“I easily release that which I no longer need.  The past is over and I am free.”

She emailed me today, asking whether or not I breast fed Ava and how did it go?  Did I have any tricks up my sleeve to help her along in her quest to nurse her wee lad.  I emailed her back with a few pointers, but unfortunately didn’t have the time today to call her to chat about it more.  And now, with the time difference, it’s much too late for me to call her.

Katie’s question has been in the back of my mind all day long.  It brought back so many memories of a teeny tiny baby Ava, still swimming in preemie clothes at 6 weeks old.  And she was never a preemie–she just didn’t want to eat those first couple of months.  And the anguish–I’m certainly glad it’s in the past.

This happens all the time for me, and today is no different.  A situation like this one makes me realize how much time has passed, how much I’ve learned about Down syndrome, about Ava, about my family and about me since she graced us with her presence.  Eating is certainly not a problem anymore–she’d likely devour an entire bag of cookies if I let her go for it.  There’s other things now.

She’s busy as heck.  She’s frustrated that she understands every stinking word someone says to her but can’t respond like you and I.  She’s really into playing on the bed with Reid….  Lots of things.

And the things that seem so frustrating to me today – just like her lack of eating as a baby – will likely, one day, be a thing of the past that I’ll reflect upon, glad it’s where it is, and deal with the current day.

Today is today.  Yesterday was yesterday.  And tomorrow is tomorrow.  And so it goes….

Just this morning I lost it when I broke a cereal bowl.  Shattered to bits on my kitchen floor and I start crying.  What the f–k was that all about?  I lost it because having to clean up the broken bowl bits was just one more thing I had to do at this most wonderful time of the year.  That and pick up the trash that some critter went through in the night and gloriously spread all over our yard.  Oh, and rebuild my iphone.  And don’t forget that 2, yes 2, warning lights were on in my car when I started it up for the first time today.

So now I’m sitting back and venting to the world.  But my venting is not in vain.

I’m also here to say that I’m pleased that I am able to bend down and pick up the broken bowl bits, that I’m glad a hungry critter got an unexpected snack in the night, that I have an iphone, and that I’m lucky enough to not only have a car but be able-bodied enough to drive it (Sean would argue “kinda”) and see while I’m doing so.

So enough of the consumerism and the mayhem of the holiday season.  Here’s to honestly and heartfully being thankful and grateful for what I have in my life: an amazing partner, exceptional children, a loving family and some of the best friends a person can ask for.

Need I more?  Absolutely not.

Her learning curve is just so big.

And I think so is mine.

There have been so many times this past week that I’ve thought to myself, “I only had to tell Reid [insert safety violation/warning/reminder here] once when HE was a toddler.  When is SHE going to get it?!”  And for whatever reason, this past week has found me reacting poorly, tangled in a knot about what to do next that I feel completely unsure at times.

The other day we were at my friend’s house, bidding her a’dieu on her move, and I really wanted to just talk to my friend and let Ava play.  But Ava was a complete and utter nightmare: running all over the place, having mini-tantrums, cornering my friend’s daughter because she was just so keen on hugging and kissing her.  It was like a fire was on inside her and I could do only my best to keep it semi-contained.

Ava’s fire is a wonderful thing if you really think about it.  Her stubbornness, her glory of life, her attraction to so many people and her unabashed joy in the things so many others find simple.  But sometimes, for me, it seems like it’s way over the top.  Like if Ava were to slow down every once in awhile (aside from when she’s sleeping) that she could capture more of the essence of life, get along better with her peers and brother and me, for that matter.

But her fire keeps on raging, at a pace that can be difficult at best to keep up with.  My inclination is that she should adjust to us, me.  But is that the correct assumption?  Is it in my right or purview to tone her down to my comfort zone, or is it better that I eat it and step up to the plate and come to her level, embrace her fire and figure it out for me?

And is that dangerous–me conforming to her and not vice-versa?  I really don’t know.  All I can say for certain is that I feel, strongly, that I am entering new territory here.  I’m unsure how to proceed.  Do I extinguish her flame in exchange for a more docile, agreeable girl?  Or do I embrace her seeming insanity and just roll with it?

A good time was had by all.  Oh, and ideas began….  (Click on the link above to learn more about that.)

Watching the old oil rig engines.

I have no idea who these people are, but love the photo.

Reid's "gimmie Lego" cap

Gratuitous photo of Ava completely out of context. She was not much into the tractors.

This acronym has been used in my family of late, most recently to describe my nephew’s arrival at college.  It is also very appropriate for the little man in our family.

After a lot of transition last year, Reid certainly had a few days in kindergarten that were less than stellar.  So at the start of this school year, I was admittedly a little nervous for the first day of first grade.  The FIRST time, ever, he’s been “on his own,” if you will.  On his own to stand in line for class, go to lunch with all of the big kids, follow the rules for the bells when recess is over, etc.

Last week, when we went to Blossom Hill School to find out who his teacher was, he was really excited to know no less than 5 kids in his class.  And good friends at that.

Monday morning rolled around, and he was ready and rearing to go.  A little anxious, I could tell, but putting on a very brave face.  When we found his class line, he was thrilled to see his friends, hugged several of them, and off he went.  I drove by the school later that day and blew him a kiss from the car, wishing him a great first day.

Well, I’m pleased to say that at pick-up on the first day of first grade, I asked Reid, “How was your day?”  And you know what he said?

“Mom…it was AWESOME!”

Go Reid!!!  My Big Man on Campus.

Tonight, as I was helping her get ready for bed, she got that sure look on her face.  ”A big one is coming, Mom,” she might have said.  It’s unmistakable when she has to go, and when she goes, she really goes. 

As she was gearing up, I asked Ava: “Want to go use the potty?”  Sure enough, she got up and walked to the bathroom quicker than me.  When I got there, she was sitting on her potty, holding on to the sides and going for it.  It took awhile, as it usually does, but this time it was without tears, cries, or any other signs of distress.  She just sat, pooped for awhile, and then said, “All done.”  Wiped herself for awhile, and then I helped, too, mom that I am.

I gave her a huge high-five!  She had a great big smile on her face.

When we got back to her room, while putting on her jammies, I asked Ava if she thought she should be done with diapers and wanted to be a big girl now.  She said “yeah, all done.”

Yeah!