tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28503207851234637992024-03-18T22:46:31.493-04:00at tableattablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.comBlogger149125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-51822627507139335152015-10-09T14:21:00.000-04:002015-10-09T14:21:05.644-04:0031 for 21: StorytimeI broke library rules today and took quite a few pictures of Max at storytime. I realized that he's nearly 3, nearly aging out of the "baby" storytime and ready for the "preschool" storytime, and I needed some mementos of his favorite part of the week.<br />
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Max loves storytime. He isn't shy about pulling up a carpet square front and center. (He was actually sitting in the middle of the circle, alone, for five minutes before the other boys came to join him.) For a long time he has been signing along to the familiar songs--they start and end with the same ones each week. Lately he has really started signing along with everything. He copy's the librarian's motions, he adds his own signs when none are prescribed. (Today when they talked about a "black" train he signed "block," and when the train went around the "back" he signed "backpack". "Train," however, he knows, and just signs "train.")<br />
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Don't tell his PT, but this is his best hour of physical therapy each week. He stands to do the rhymes, walks over to get his own book to read, and tries to jump around. Afterwards today he kept on trying to practice his walking--I think watching all the other kids running around motivates him. Every time a song ends, Max signs off by blowing kisses as he lets his legs go limp and sits back on the floor.<br />
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I'm not going to name any names, but my first son? He would run crazy all during storytime and not pay one bit of attention. So please excuse me if I brag a bit about how the younger brother pays attention, plays along, and generally sets a good example for all the other kids. This is my 20 minutes of showing off, my turn to reassure the other moms, "It's okay, your kid will catch on eventually."attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-38541422027801102342015-10-08T14:19:00.002-04:002015-10-08T14:19:33.785-04:0031 for 21: Picky EaterI tell everyone we have a picky eater and then this happens:<br />
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Do not get between the boy and his spaghetti! Our list of things Max will reliably eat includes spaghetti, cheerios with milk, pulled pork, graham crackers, milk, milk with instant breakfast mixed in, sweet yogurt, vanilla ice cream, and chocolate cake. I think that's it. There are a few other foods he will eat when Taylor Swift is playing. Sigh. Toddlers.attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-42054568399085659522015-10-07T22:17:00.000-04:002015-10-07T22:17:07.699-04:0031 for 21: Why An Inclusive Preschool Classroom?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday I got to attack some misconceptions and assumptions I've heard as we've explained our decision to send Max to a mainstream preschool. Now for the fun part--some of the reasons why we ARE making this choice.<br />
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<li>We want to give inclusion a try. It seems easier now than it might be as Max gets older and the differences become more distinct.</li>
<li>Timing, schedules, location, cost -- all the factors that are a part of figuring out any kids' childcare. The location and hours are pretty much a perfect fit for my work schedule.</li>
<li>This preschool came well-recommended. Why wouldn't we want the same great things for our kid that all our friends are finding for theirs?</li>
<li>Preschool is just one part of Max's day. I'm mostly at home with him, I'm able to drive him to therapy and practice skills with him at home. If we were looking for full time childcare we might have been more interested in the Special Education preschool and all of the services it provides. But for now Max is only away from me for a few hours each week, and so our priority was on a few hours of inclusion.</li>
<li>We've observed how Max lights up and participates in programming for typical toddlers around town. Storytime at the library, gymnastics at the Y, sneaking in to Toby's dance class--Max wants to participate in the stuff everyone else is doing. As long as that is the case, there doesn't seem to be a reason to separate him.</li>
<li>Max's teachers and classmates are learning about Down syndrome, and, more generally, about diversity.</li>
<li>It's what we would do if Max didn't have Down syndrome. When we brought Max home from the hospital, all of the doctors and nurses and NICU social workers said the same thing, "Treat him like any other baby. Raise him the same way you would your other children." This is one of our first opportunities to do just that.</li>
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attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-35437638616852961582015-10-06T20:51:00.000-04:002015-10-06T20:51:58.993-04:0031 for 21: Why Not Special Education Preschool?You might have caught in the last post that Max is attending a regular, private, church run preschool. Kids with developmental delays or disabilities are entitled to free, public preschool when they turn 3, and so we're doing something a bit different from many families in our area. Our decision is something I want to write about because I don't talk about it much. Unfortunately, the discussions we've had often pit typical classrooms against special education classrooms. Since I hope that both inclusive settings and professionals with special education experience will have a lot of influence on Max's learning, I hate this dichotomy. So, to set the record straight:<br />
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<li>We aren't sending Max to a typical preschool because we're worried about the quality of the special education programs in our district. We've got lots of friends in those programs and they love them.</li>
<li>We aren't sending Max to a typical preschool because we're worried about the influence of kids with other disabilities. Honestly, that is the biggest downside to what we're doing. In my perfect world Max would be in a classroom with kids with a variety of abilities. (And really, considering the things my 1st grader comes home repeating, I'm more worried about the bad influence of the typically developing kids...)</li>
<li>We aren't sending Max to a typical preschool because we don't see the value in trained Special Education teachers and therapists. We love our current EI therapists, and I'm certain we will have many, many positive interactions with Special Education teachers in the future. I'm new to this whole disability thing--and I am grateful for the support and experience that we are able to pull from in our community.</li>
<li>We aren't sending Max to a typical preschool because we want him to catch up with his typical peers. We're good with Max being Max and doing things in his own time. We don't want to normalize him or erase his Down syndrome. But we think he can be himself in an inclusive environment.</li>
<li>We aren't interested in sending Max to a typical preschool because we want to make a statement. Sure, encouraging inclusion is a great statement. But if this doesn't work for Max? If we need to make a switch so that he can learn and grow? Then we'll make the switch. We want to find the best fit for Max.</li>
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That's enough for today. Tomorrow, some reasons why we ARE sending Max to a typical preschool.</div>
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attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-23762852122864929002015-10-06T13:33:00.002-04:002015-10-06T13:33:36.491-04:0031 for 21: PreschoolToday Max went to the library without me. With his preschool.<br />
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(For the record, I started writing this last night. You know, one post a day and all that. But before I finished life happened, and then I was asleep, and, well, here we are. So I scrapped what I had, and started over, because, as I just said, Max went on his first ever field trip today.)<br />
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Until two months ago, a friend cared for Max at her in-home daycare. She's an amazing baby-whisperer type, and dropping Max off with her felt like leaving him with family. So I knew I would be okay dropping him off, and he would be okay playing and learning without me, but I was worried about how he would be received, and what new challenges we would find as he entered a classroom setting.<br />
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Our school? They have been amazing. They didn't bat an eye when they heard the words Down syndrome. The director has been diligent about thinking of the places where Max might need a hand (for instance, knowing who is responsible for carrying him out during a fire drill since he doesn't walk), but not smothering him. His teachers report back on his antics, tell me when he's learned something new, but generally don't dwell on listing off how he was or wasn't keeping up with the class each day. Max had a first picture day, brought home his first artwork, went on his first field trip.<br />
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The best part, for me, is watching him communicate with his new class all on his own. One day when I picked him up he was wearing a hat--a hat he found in his classroom in the morning and hadn't given up all day. It's a little thing, but he loves hats at home, too, and I was so glad that without many words he was able to let that piece of his personality shine. He asks to hear songs again and again, he pushes his way to the front of the room to watch the video they see before naptime. He comes home covered in paint one day and spaghetti sauce the next. He's being himself, and his teachers and friends are loving him for it.<br />
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The preschool director, Max's two teachers (and one's daughter), one parent and one student attended the Buddy Walk with us this year. That's six folks who were at the Buddy Walk who wouldn't have had a connection with Down syndrome if we hadn't taken a chance on sending Max to a mainstream preschool.<br />
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I do worry that our experience in the last month has made me unreasonably optimistic about my expectations for inclusion in the future. After all, it's not too hard to include an adorable two-year-old, when all of the other two-year-olds are also wearing diapers and learning how to talk. I've heard the refrain that it gets harder. But I'm going to ignore it for now. Preschool, for me, is a delightful little bubble, and we'll deal with the rest when we get there.<br />
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After all, Max now has 6 new advocates working for his inclusion.attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-38182137100900347132015-10-04T22:18:00.001-04:002015-10-04T22:18:16.986-04:0031 for 21: Cozy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Time for a end-of-the-weekend photo post. On day 4, really? I wasn't posting shameless photos until at least halfway through last year.attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-62816857338828032252015-10-03T23:00:00.001-04:002015-10-03T23:00:55.526-04:0031 for 21: AwarenessFor the first three days of October, my Facebook feed has been full of awareness. Facts and stories and reposts and reminders. It is Down syndrome awareness month, after all.<div>
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I'm not exactly sure where I fit into this all. <br /><div>
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It's not that I mind having opinions. I have quite a few opinions, and I'm not shy (or even particularly socially competent) about sharing them.</div>
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It's personal, certainly. While it might be fuel for some, for me it just makes it harder. Last month we had our first meeting with the school district -- maybe that is worth it's own post someday. Let's just say that while I have all sorts of articulate opinions in the abstract, when it came down to trying to advocate for my specific child and the specific options available for him, I quickly became a blubbering mess.</div>
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It's also not personal. I'm not the one with Down syndrome. And the little guy I'm advocating for is 2. He doesn't have too many opinions yet--at least not beyond his picky taste in food and music. Any advocacy I do is with him in mind, and he hasn't told me yet how he wants me to advocate.</div>
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I'm not sure exactly what steps I want to ask others to take. I'm not even sure what steps I want to take. There isn't a cure to find or a bill that needs to be signed or prayers that need to be said. There's research I could be learning about in all sorts of directions, but mostly I just want to sing silly songs with my toddler.</div>
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So to the rest of you, keep up your awareness building. I'm watching and figuring, and waiting for some piece of this whole advocacy thing to set me on fire. Until then I'll keep on wondering if I'm doing enough, and keep on learning about Down syndrome one day at a time.</div>
attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-80410382184594356342015-10-02T20:46:00.002-04:002015-10-02T20:46:24.174-04:0031 for 21: Brothers6-year old Toby came home today with a picture he drew of "being a good citizen." And he explained it to me.<div>
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"This person is saying 'ouch,' and the other one is saying 'hahahahahaha.'"</div>
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Wait, what?</div>
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"Um, Toby, how does that show you being a good citizen?"</div>
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"That's me saying 'ouch,' and Max laughing."</div>
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Right. Because that's how the boys entertain each other. Toby encourages Max to hit him, and Max does, and then they both topple over laughing.</div>
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Or take the other night, when Toby jumped out at Max, and scared him, and caused some real tears. With Max in one arm I turned to Toby. "You scared him," I scolded. "What can you do to make him feel better?"</div>
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Toby shrugged sheepishly. Max, however, took a breath, stopped crying, and started performing the actions to "The Itsy Bitsy Spider." Well, there you go Toby, that's your penance. Start singing.</div>
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And then there was the day at the park, earlier this summer. There was a van full of young adults with various disabilities also stretching at the park. Most were hanging out on the swings, chatting with their chaperones. But two flirtatious teens were playing tag on the climbing equipment. Toby joined them.</div>
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On the way home Toby asked, "Did that guy have Down syndrome?" Yes, I said, he did. "I thought so. That is why I was on his team."</div>
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I don't think Toby quite figured out that the guy wanted to be caught. But it's good to know that Toby is proud to be on Max's team. For now, goofy games and silly songs will do. He's got some time to learn how to be a proper wing man.</div>
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attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-36330115606643201652015-10-01T12:53:00.001-04:002015-10-01T12:53:20.976-04:0031 for 21: Hello World!I'm back! It's been a whole year since I've stopped by the blog, but I didn't forget about October. Once again I am going to attempt to write something on this blog every day during Down Syndrome Awareness month.<br />
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We've got some new things going on around here. Max is 2 1/2 now. He's considering walking, exploding in his signing, inserting himself into our jokes and comforting us when we're upset. He loves music and rhymes and routine. He's not a fan of fruits or vegetables, or of sleeping through the night. He started preschool a month ago and we've started talking about "Transitioning" from EI to the school system. I'm itching to write down a few things, and although I didn't miss blogging I think I'm good to stick with it for the month<br />
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Last night I read back over last year's posts. That was when I discovered that all of my pictures from old posts are missing. Last spring I changed the way I was backing up my photos from my computer and phone, and in the process I think I deleted the google directory that had the blog photos in it. Oops. I still have the photos backed up elsewhere, but I don't see myself finding time to go back and reinsert them in the right places. I'm bummed, because the photos were a big part of the story I was telling. <br />
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It seems the only solution is to start adding more photos. So, welcome October, welcome new readers, and here we go!attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-90201708943754753132014-10-31T12:27:00.000-04:002014-10-31T12:27:00.873-04:0031 for 21: Imagination<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think I've posted about this before, but as we reach the end of our month I think it deserves repeating. Every now and then, the interwebs are good for my imagination. And that is why I joined in to the 31 for 21 challenge this year.<br />
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I haven't spent as much time reading blogs about Down syndrome lately as I did that first year. But I've tried to make the rounds through the 31 for 21 participants this month. As before, it is fun to just see the variety of families represented. Some feel like kindred spirits, others I probably wouldn't have read if it weren't for the Ds connection. Seeing so many options of what families with special needs children can look like keeps me from settling in to one idea of what Down syndrome will look like in our life. Peeking at other families keeps my imagination healthy. Sometimes I'm inspired, and take away an idea or a hope of "Yes! I can do that!" But most of the time I don't really want to copy what anyone else is doing. I'm just happy know that our family fits in to the mosaic, one of many. We're just figuring out one way of the many, many ways to walk this path.<br />
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I write because I have fun writing, and I have fun sharing about my family. But I also write to give back to the internet community a bit. For all the ways other blogs have expanded my imagination, I offer a picture of our life in hopes of returning the favor.<br />
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So for the past month I tried to take on the challenge of sharing us consistently -- the worries, the achievements, the celebrations, the everyday. I don't think there's anything unusual or interesting or inspiring about our family. But we are one of many, and so we are a part of something special.</div>
attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-18214595762816952412014-10-30T10:53:00.004-04:002014-10-30T10:53:49.046-04:0031 for 21: And Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Another skipped day yesterday. Oh well, my track record has been pretty good this year. Again, I blame it on the Royals. I really hoped to post a "yay Royals" post after the game last night. But then, they lost, and I just didn't have the energy to bother with it. After staying up late for the game we are all a bit low on energy this morning. Thank goodness that I took way too many cute photos at the pumpkin patch this weekend. I'm getting a lot of mileage out of them.<br />
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If I can pull myself together I'll try to make a real post, with real opinions & stuff, for the final day of October.<br />
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I might be tired & a bit sad for my Royals today, but it was totally worth it to see them in the World Series. I'm already looking forward to 2043 when they can do it again!attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-67837788783659998892014-10-28T22:15:00.005-04:002014-10-28T22:15:52.389-04:0031 for 21: I Almost Forgot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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But I didn't. So here's my post.<br />
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Yes, you know it's the end of the month when this sort of slack counts as a post. But whatever.<br />
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If you need me, I'll be watching baseball. Go Royals!attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-62138056783853355702014-10-27T14:43:00.001-04:002014-10-27T14:43:04.757-04:0031 for 21: Following<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Keeping a closer eye on the internet's Down syndrome community this month means that I've caught a few references to an article written by a mother of a 50-year old with Ds. According to the headline, even today, she thinks abortion would have been an easier road than raising her son.<div>
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I haven't clicked that link. Maybe because the sensational headline feels like click-bait. Maybe because I'm not sure what there is for me to learn from someone harboring that sort of regret. Maybe because the whole issue is so seeped in politics that I don't trust the internet to contain such sadness. Maybe because I don't want to revel in self-righteousness after reading a short statement out of a life I have not lived.</div>
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But I did click on <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/hayley-goleniowska/parenting-children-with-downs-syndrome_b_6040708.html" target="_blank">this link, this response</a>. And I'm glad I did. It's an incredibly well-written reminder of how difficult it is to walk in another mother's shoes. And it's a reminder to all of us touched by disability to remember the debt we owe to previous generations.</div>
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I'm thankful for those who went before us. Who made it possible for me to bring my son home, who opened the doors of our neighborhood school, who insisted that he has a place as an adult in our community. They didn't always know they were pioneers at the time. Like most of us, they were just stumbling along trying to do the best they could for their kids. Often while the world around them was telling them that their kid didn't deserve the best.</div>
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Someday, perhaps, I will be more open myself to hearing the stories of the parents who sent their children away. For now, I am thankful for the parents -- sometimes flawed and all-too-human -- who made my son's road, and by extension my road, a bit wider.</div>
attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-80931388548106645412014-10-26T20:53:00.002-04:002014-10-26T20:53:26.874-04:0031 for 21: Google GIFs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
More fall fun this weekend, more photo ops:</div>
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I don't think I'll ever get tired of google turning my photo shoots into gifs:<br />
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attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-25662445039192275592014-10-25T11:12:00.001-04:002014-10-25T11:12:16.096-04:0031 for 21: OopsOops! I finally missed a day. Just plum forgot about it. Funny, I remembered to post when we were sick, but I forgot on a lazy Friday evening.<br />
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My only excuse is that I was watching the Royals instead. After TV fails and radio fails and sleep fails, this was the first post-season game I was able to watch. Go Royals!<br />
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As penance, I give you the obligatory fall raking photo:<br />
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<br />attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-62130983288417214782014-10-23T20:56:00.000-04:002014-10-23T20:56:23.188-04:0031 for 21: Papa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Whew. Okay, I think we are all through with that particular wave of illness. Here's hoping for a few days of respite before the next one hits.<br />
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It occurred to me that I might not have given Christer full credit in Tuesday's post for all he does to help mitigate the worry -- both in his care of Max and in his care of me. And if you noticed that he was absent this round of sick-baby-care and subsequent worry, you would be right. That is because he was busy having dinner with this guy:<br />
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<a href="http://jg.net/apps/pbcsi.dll/bilde?Site=JG&Date=20141021&Category=EDIT07&ArtNo=310219932&Ref=AR&Q=85&MaxW=400&MaxH=600" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://jg.net/apps/pbcsi.dll/bilde?Site=JG&Date=20141021&Category=EDIT07&ArtNo=310219932&Ref=AR&Q=85&MaxW=400&MaxH=600" width="280" /></a></div>
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Um, yeah, I was not going to call him in the middle of meeting Neil DeGrass Tyson to say, "Your baby is sick, come home."<br />
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(Okay, maybe I did text him the first part, because I needed some sympathy, but I can totally handle a few hours of puke while Christer's off having an experience. Really.)<br />
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Truth is, the last couple of times Max was sick, Christer stepped up and dealt with most of the unpleasantness. Because I was too busy working myself into a worried tizzy to be much use. And when I do worry about the Big Future Worries, my fastest relief comes from the thought that I've got this guy with me every step of the way. Some days we have no idea where we're going, but at least we're in it together.<br />
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attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-78780819587553885582014-10-22T20:23:00.002-04:002014-10-22T20:23:51.126-04:0031 for 21: Ta Da!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-69104357281197857182014-10-21T21:45:00.001-04:002014-10-21T21:45:27.167-04:0031 for 21: Worry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Max has a stomach bug this evening -- the kind that will probably interrupt my writing several times, the kind that all kids get. With it comes the parenting hassles -- the clean up, the likely sleepless night, the mental rescheduling of tomorrow's commitments. But with Max, there also comes the worry.<br />
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It's hard to ever look at an illness as just an illness. There are always a list of maybe-worries behind it, risk factors that come along with Down syndrome.<br />
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It's hard to know what to blame on the third 21st chromosome, and what to just chalk up to childhood. I've known plenty of kids who have dealt with ongoing minor illnesses, and I've watched their parents worry about them. I'm not sure how, or if, this is any different. I just know that it's hard.<br />
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This summer Max hit a growth spurt, grew two inches, and lost a pound. He also had a short string of stomach troubles. Not good, but not terribly unusual for an ever-more-active toddler. But our doctor was on top of things, and there were blood draws and changes in diet and extra weigh-ins (he's gaining again now, by the way). Thyroid? Celiac? Leukemia? Yes, I know that an upset stomach isn't a sign of leukemia, but shoot if that word doesn't pop into my mind every single time Max is sick. I worry that the whole family will get the bug, and then I turn around and worry that if we don't it might mean that something is wrong with Max. I worry with him that I am missing something, that if I could just put the pieces together his pain would go away.<br />
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On these worrying nights, it also hits me that it is likely Max will always have a guardian of some kind. Most days I can't wrap my mind around being responsible for two human beings until they turn 18. It is so hard, oh so hard, to make decisions for a baby and a child who can't explain their bodies in words. Is Toby sick enough to keep home from school? Is Max up again at night because of teething, or a sore throat, or a grumbling belly? How long will Christer and I be the ones making decisions for Max, and how many times will we make the wrong call.<br />
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So I write, and then I run back upstairs to cuddle and comfort. And I remember that worries are always worst in the dark.<br />
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Sleep well, little Max. Here's hoping that we're both feeling a little better come morning.attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-2625037452146592212014-10-20T21:02:00.001-04:002014-10-20T21:02:29.293-04:0031 for 21: Worth A Listen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last year, Christer & I had the chance to see Temple Grandin speak. The University's auditorium was packed, and it was a diverse audience. The usual crowd of college faculty & students were there (including more than a few students in the line to prove their attendance). Then there were people on the autism spectrum there, and their families. There were special education teachers and other professionals that work in the disability community. And then there was a whole separate set of folks who knew of Grandin from her work -- folks interested in animal behavior and agriculture. And then there were the animal activist types, curious about this woman who's work has led to more humane treatment of animals on their way to be slaughtered.<br />
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Temple Grandin owned that audience. Her presentation was unlike any other lecture I have ever attended. It was obvious that she is not a linear thinker -- I had to work hard to keep up with her tangents and loops. She was straightforward when describing the importance of her work, abrupt in answering questions, and blunt when scolding the tech booth for messing up her slides. And the audience was with her through it all -- sometimes in quiet concentration, sometimes in slightly uneasy laughter, sometimes with enthusiastic applause.<br />
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The audience was excited to see Temple Grandin, and was willing to enter her space in order to hear what she had to say. We were rewarded by seeing the topics of her talk through her eyes for a few moments. We were rewarded by seeing both the scientific accomplishments she has made, and the ways that her autism gave her a view of the world that made those accomplishments possible.<br />
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This is what I want for Max. Not from a packed auditorium, necessarily, but from his friends, and coworkers, and from the teller at the bank. I want people to be so genuinely interested in him that they are willing to take a step into his space in order to really hear what he has to say.<br />
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And, if I'm honest, this is also what I hope for myself. Look, it's tough really listening to people. I have hard enough time staying present with the folks closest to me in my life. When someone comes along who is challenging (a bully in the workplace, an over-dramatic friend, a five year old child living in my house...) it is easier to shut down, to walk away, to disengage. It's tempting, when someone doesn't act the way I would like them to, to ascribe my own reasons for their behavior instead of paying attention long enough to understand where they are coming from.<br />
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I'm going to mess this up along the way. I'm going to miss out on things that Max is trying to tell me. Heck, I've missed out on few key messages from both of my children already. But months after Temple Grandin's speech, the whole experience -- hearing her, watching the audience, and being a part of the audience -- it all sticks with me. There are models out there for how to connect across differences. There will be places where Max is appreciated and understood. And, if I'm lucky, I'll get to step inside his space, too.attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-62844558646815330202014-10-19T20:22:00.002-04:002014-10-19T20:22:18.784-04:0031 for 21: More Halloween I think this might be the money shot -- both boys, in costume, smiling:<br />
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Toby wanted to be Pikachu, so we made Max a little jacket and hat so he could be Ash (pikachu's human handler). Pikachu got lots of love, especially from excited teenagers. I'm not sure anyone recognized Ash, though.</div>
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And after all the photos I forced on the boys, Toby was pleased to get a chance to take this one of the grown-ups.</div>
attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-32904892911182055992014-10-18T21:21:00.000-04:002014-10-18T21:21:17.401-04:0031 for 21: Dance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I tried to stand Max on the dance floor. He isn't standing on his own yet, but he's usually happy to put some weight on his feet if you'll keep him balanced. But not tonight. I'd put him down, and he'd swing his legs up to his ears. I tried several times, and then gave up and plopped him sitting on the floor. As soon as I let go, he started busting a move--and the telltale giggles of half a dozen onlookers let me know that the whole scene had an audience.<br />
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Max loves dancing right now. Toes thumping, arms waving, head bobbing, he's got his own set of moves. So we sat in the corner of the dance floor at the community's Halloween dance tonight. (His brother was on the other side of the room mixing up a batch of "zombie snot" courtesy of the science museum.)<br />
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<br />attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-103892577804782712014-10-17T21:03:00.001-04:002014-10-17T21:03:03.655-04:0031 for 21: Fall BreakAfter a dreary, wet week, we finally got some sunshine, and I finally got some new photos for the blog! Yay!<br />
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Today was Toby's one-day Fall Break. We celebrated with a pajama morning. Kindergarten has taken a big bite out of the time spent in pajamas around here. The whole transition to Kindergarten is taking a bit longer than I'd anticipated. Two months into the school year, it still seems like a very long time for our 5-year-old to keep focused, get along with his friends & teachers, and generally behave himself. He comes home tired, and ready to have some time to himself without anyone telling him what to do.<br />
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So we spent the morning in pajamas, and the boys spent most of the morning in a big pile of pillows and blankets.<br />
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When we did get outside, we were greeted with one of the last short-sleeve days of the year. We found Christer at work for lunch, played with the ice cream machine in the cafeteria, and checked out the toys in the Physics supply closet.<br />
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We spent the rest of the afternoon at the park, and brought home two tired boys. It was nice to have a slow day today before jumping into a busy weekend. Tomorrow the Halloween festivities begin!attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-54493092895068562392014-10-16T21:31:00.003-04:002014-10-16T21:31:56.096-04:0031 for 21: Down Syndrome Awareness MonthI figure that at least once this month I should post a link to the 15 minute video "<a href="http://www.justlikeyou-downsyndrome.org/" target="_blank">Just Like You.</a>" It's the best intro-to-Down-syndrome I've found for kids (I'm guessing it would play well with elementary through high school aged students). Three sets of teens, answering basic questions about Down syndrome, asking the silly questions so that you don't have to. So if you haven't seen it already, go, take a look.attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-26952419384178492822014-10-15T21:03:00.003-04:002014-10-15T21:03:42.097-04:0031 for 21: Wednesdays<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wednesdays are our busiest day right now. A busy morning with Max, a busy afternoon of after-school activities for Toby, and then an evening at church. Wednesday dinner at church just might be my favorite part of the week. It's a crazy bustling scene--catching up with friends, herding kids, checking in with my Sunday school teachers, getting different family members to their separate nursery/choir/bible studies. Getting everyone where they need to be a bit late because we spent too much time chatting around the table.<br />
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Which means that by the time I get home and get the kids to bed, I don't have much left to say. So please enjoy this photo of a baby making faces with his spoon.attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2850320785123463799.post-81995313908757921912014-10-14T21:37:00.000-04:002014-10-14T21:37:01.914-04:0031 for 21: A Toddler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This fall, we've moved from having a baby to having a toddler.<br />
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I think it started at the beginning of the school year, when I decided it was time to take him to Toddler Storytime at the library instead of Baby Storytime. It just seemed like he was the biggest kid in the class, and it was time. And he loved it. He loved the energy of all the toddlers running around and making lots of noise. </div>
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Then there's been the trouble with his appetite. Our little baby Max once gobbled up every spoonful that came his way. Many days we were certain he was eating more than Toby. And then it stopped. Along with his pincer grasp came the ability to carefully pick up food from his tray and drop it onto the ground. Not surprisingly, this change was accompanied by a drop in weight, so now we are reduced to begging him to eat. I might have spent tonight's dinner singing, because the only time he would open his mouth was on the "wash" part of "wash the spider down."</div>
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And in the last few weeks, we've seen the attitude. Screeching when he's bored. Yanking toys away from other toddlers. Refusing to give away contraband cords, legos and lint without a fight. Bursting into tears when he hears the word "no." Pivoting around so that his back is facing his therapists when he's done playing their games, and doing so with a big grin on his face. He is still a remarkably easygoing little boy -- but he's getting opinions.</div>
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So I've been calling him a toddler lately, mostly without apology. Actual toddling will come when it will, we have a toddler in the house.</div>
attablebloghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09353959378506921682noreply@blogger.com1