Little fans

Seth is a huge fan of the Steelers. And his boys are, too, whether they know it or not.

This was Kieran at about 3 months--he still didn't quite fill out the outfit.

And this is Cael at 10 weeks--pretty much almost ready to outgrow it.

He was 12 pounds, 12 ounces at his 2-month check-up a few week ago.

800

This is my 800th blog post. That seems like a lot of posts, don't you think? Have I really had 800 posts-worth of things to say? Apparently so.

I'll celebrate by posting a few shots of my funny, loving family.

Kieran finally decided to try on the 3-D glasses my dad brought home after watching Transformers 3-D.

Cael hasn't quite perfected his "photo face."

Just the four of us

My parents and their favorite grandsons (they only have 2)

The one where I can't spell zucchini

Remember how I weeded my garden last fall? (If not, see here.)  Yes, well, between then and now, somehow the garden had unweeded itself. The spring rains made the weeds grow fast and because I was fat and pregnant, I didn't have the energy to keep after it. And so the weeds grew. And grew and grew and grew.

Finally, I'd had enough and decided to hire Chicken Neighbor's teenage son to weed it for me. And so I did. And so he did.

 And gradually, over the past few weeks, the garden has gone from looking like this ^ . . .

to looking like this ^.

Chicken Neighbor's son finished weeding a few days ago. And while he was telling me he'd finished, he offered me some of his homegrown zucchini, which I accepted gratefully. (I actually had to look up zucchini on merriam-webster.com to make sure I was spelling it correctly.)

Today, Kieran and I (mostly me, though) decided to make muffins from the zucchini. And so we did.

 The above view from my kitchen window was when we pulled the muffins (made from this recipe) out of the oven and tried one (or two or three). We both agreed that they were delish. 

Welcome to Holland

If you're the parent of a child with a special-needs diagnosis, "Welcome to Holland" is probably one of the first things you read after you received the diagnosis. Shortly after Kieran was diagnosed with Williams syndrome, Seth's parents came to visit and Seth's mom brought a printout of "Welcome to Holland" for me to read (her youngest daughter, Seth's youngest sister, has Down syndrome).
This isn't new or original to me--it's been making the rounds for years--but I was reminded of it, again, the other day and decided to post it here.

Welcome to Holland
c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this.

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But, if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

Welcome to Holland, part 2
I have been in Holland for over a decade now. It has become home. I have had time to catch my breath, to settle and adjust, to accept something different than I'd planned.

I reflect back on those years of past when I had first landed in Holland. I remember clearly my shock, my fear, my anger—the pain and uncertainty. In those first few years, I tried to get back to Italy as planned, but Holland was where I was to stay. Today, I can say how far I have come on this unexpected journey. I have learned so much more. But, this too has been a journey of time.

I worked hard. I bought new guidebooks. I learned a new language and I slowly found my way around this new land. I have met others whose plans had changed like mine, and who could share my experience. We supported one another and some have become very special friends.

Some of these fellow travelers had been in Holland longer than I and were seasoned guides, assisting me along the way. Many have encouraged me. Many have taught me to open my eyes to the wonder and gifts to behold in this new land. I have discovered a community of caring. Holland wasn't so bad.
I think that Holland is used to wayward travelers like me and grew to become a land of hospitality, reaching out to welcome, to assist and to support newcomers like me in this new land. Over the years, I've wondered what life would have been like if I'd landed in Italy as planned. Would life have been easier? Would it have been as rewarding? Would I have learned some of the important lessons I hold today?

Sure, this journey has been more challenging and at times I would (and still do) stomp my feet and cry out in frustration and protest. And, yes, Holland is slower paced than Italy and less flashy than Italy, but this too has been an unexpected gift. I have learned to slow down in ways too and look closer at things, with a new appreciation for the remarkable beauty of Holland with its tulips, windmills and Rembrandts.

I have come to love Holland and call it Home.

I have become a world traveler and discovered that it doesn't matter where you land. What's more important is what you make of your journey and how you see and enjoy the very special, the very lovely, things that Holland, or any land, has to offer.

Yes, over a decade ago I landed in a place I hadn't planned. Yet I am thankful, for this destination has been richer than I could have imagined!

Things of Import

Kieran likes to play with my camera (usually under supervision). I let him look at the screen and press the button to take a picture of whatever he's looking at.

A few days ago, he brought the camera to me, and I asked him what he wanted to take a picture of. And these were the things that were important enough to him to warrant a photo.

His ever-present blankie (a present from friends Missy and Gary)

A ball that sqeaks -- he likes to have the air that escapes during the "squeak" blown on him (a hand-me-down from Aunt Ruth)

And his tricycle (a Christmas gift from his Aunt Kenda) -- we're still working on getting him to actually use the pedals

You know you live in a holler when . . .

you purchase a new washing machine and dispose of the old one by taking it over to your neighbor who will proceed to store it in his yard until he decides to recycle it for scrap metal.

Christie's word of the day: Mendacious

Agatha Christie's detectives knew how to tell lies when the time was right (as if there's ever a time in which lying is ok).

Poirot, who could always do without a cup of tea, assented mendaciously. (One, Two, Buckle My Shoe, Agatha Christie)

Kieran usually responds to most yes-or-no questions with an automatic no. Do you want to go outside? No. Do you want to stay inside? No. Do you want to get dressed? No. Do you want to stay in your pajamas all day? No.

I don't think he's responding in this way mendaciously -- I think it's more that he's still in the process of understanding the difference between yes and no. When he really, really wants something, he'll say yes: Do you want to play with bubbles? Yes. Do you want to watch an Elmo video? Yes. Do you want to turn the light on? Yes.

(He decided to see if he could fit in Cael's carseat. He can't.)

So, tell me no lies in how you would use mendacious . . . .

(And if you're wondering what this post is all about, check out this post.)

8 weeks

Is it just me or have the last two months gone by really fast (sleepless nights notwithstanding)?

This was taken right after I said to him, "Tomorrow, we begin looking for your neck."

Freecycling

This was the view out my kitchen window a few minutes after Seth said, "A crazy-looking van has just pulled up driven by what looks like convicted felons." I'd laughed nervously, given him a shaky smile, gone to the door, thought quickly about what I'd do if I got attacked, and then handed the rough-looking guy that emerged from the van a box of . . . candlesticks and votive holders. I would have also given him a bag of baskets but they'd been claimed by someone else.

True story. 

The story began a few days ago when my dad, who is visiting and who loves (or at least is really good at) organizing, began going through a closet stuffed with . . . stuff. At my request, of course. He organized, and I purged quite a bit in the process.

Most people would host a yard sale to get rid of the excess. However, since we live at the end of a long lane in a holler, we don't get much (read: any) traffic not related to those who live here. Yard sales in the Holler go like this:

Me: "Chicken Neighbor, do you want our junk?"

Chicken Neighbor: "No, do you want ours?"

Me: "No, but I'll take one of your chickens if you're giving them away."

As you can see, yard sales in the Holler don't really work. So to get rid of our well-loved stuff, we're left with the following options: trash it (and really, the trash truck will take anything we put out there) or list it online. Hoping to use my allotted landfill-space for diapers, I chose the latter. (Taking it to Goodwill isn't an option since there are no Goodwills or Salvation Armies near here.)

Since I wanted to get rid of the jun . . . stuff quickly, I listed the items locally on Freecycle.org (but not without a bit of trepidation and thoughts of "what if a mass murderer picks up the stuff and kills me in the process?"). Within a few hours, I had takers on the blankets, the baskets, the stationery . . . and the candles. Enter the crazy black van with the guy in the black leather headband and sunglasses. He wanted candles and offered to "take them off my hands." And so I gave them to him. I'm just glad he didn't take my hands off in the process.

Strangely, no one seems to want the "microwave that sparks when you use it" . . . .