Hanging Out With Eagles

Today was another one of those hold-your-breath-its-really-happening days.

I've been letting Patrick hang out on his own at home.

Just like with typical kids, there's no manual for kids with Down Syndrome.

No rule book.  No cheat sheet.

I really wish there was, trust me, because most of the time my parenting tactic is: 

guess --> see what happens and hold your breath --> adjust.

I try not to be too crazy cautious with Patrick.

That alone is a leap of faith...and a generous reliance on the rest of humanity 

out there in the big, bad world, 

and it's oh so hard.

Not hard for him by the way...just hard for me.

Anyway, he's been on his own at home, probably watching too much TV but learning to have independence.

Today I had to run around and do errands and thought that might be a good chance for Patrick to hang out on his own.

Every other time I've left him, I've found him watching TV or on the computer when I get home.

Today I found him cooking.

He made his lunch.

It was a gourmet sandwich of tuna and turkey. 

He found some tortilla chips and some cream cheese and thought that might be a good combo as well.

When I got back, he had that smile on his face that feels so great to see.

The I-did-it-and-I'm-awesome smile.

As a parent, there is nothing better.

When they're toddlers or preschoolers, you see that look all the time.

As a school age child, occasionally you see it and boy, does it feel amazing.

As your kid gets older and older, it's like a rare sighting of Sasquatch,  you're not even sure if you've seen it...many, many times, their eyes are down and they are smiling to themselves...sometimes there's a perfect moment and your eyes catch each other and you telepathically high five -- with a goofy grin across your face.

Maybe it's because every single step forward is hard won for Patrick, 

or maybe it's because I just don't have any reference points on my trail...

no cute pile of three rocks showing me I've made it to the next spot,

for some reason, the most basic steps forward to independence are marvels and wonders.

Every time, it makes me value my own independence.

It's pretty amazing I can live on my own, navigate the world, pursue my dreams and help my kids and John to work toward theirs.

I don't need much support...but maybe that's because I've been allowed to hang out with eagles my whole life...

there was no question I would fly.

But when you're born with a disability, people want you to hang out with the chickens...

they want you to earn your way to the eagle's nest.

You need to prove your worthiness.

*****

Sometimes, you don't even get to hang out with chickens...you are thrown away, discarded and worst of all disregarded.

Here's a real life example of what just happened to a baby that had the audacity to be born with Down Syndrome while his twin sister did not.

*****

So today, Patrick made his lunch, watched the clock, got his stuff together and 

headed off on his bike to camp.

I hounded him to make sure and text me when he got there.

He promised he would,

and he did.

Later he texted me this costume pic...technology is amazing.

...another trail marker...

three pretty rocks.

Presume competence.

Offer supports.

And then,

...hang out with the eagles, my boy...

Fly, Patrick, Fly.

In Praise Of Those Pesky Dandelions In The Middle Of Our Manicured Lawns...and Other Thoughts On The Pursuit Of Pefection

Stop for a moment and take a look at this...

weed?

piece of perfection?

natural mystery?

perpetual propeller?

We pass it by every day.

Sometimes we are annoyed with the dandelion fluff as it teases us, even mocks us, as it stands so tall among the well-behaved blades of grass...daring you to try to remove it.

Good luck!

Just by the very action of plucking it, you spread its seeds...such a clever mode of transportation.

Maybe you could pick it and make a wish...transporting yourself to a more carefree chapter in time.

Or you can wish it didn't exist with its bold brand of yellow...wish it away...and there's always the option of raining down a little poison.  

Round Up Ready.

So much of our life is just like this...

trashing the miracle...

wishing it away...

trying to change it...

and pouring on the poison.

We poison ourselves with the pursuit of the perfect lawn, the perfect abs, the perfect wrinkle-free skin and see no joy in any of these gifts.

As I watch all of my neighbors kill their lawns because of our severe drought, I sure wouldn't mind a lawn or two with dandelions.

As I notice people with so many health problems, I'm pretty happy with my abs of imperfection.

As I slather on the sunscreen around my eyes, I can't help but feel those laugh lines as they get deeper and more pronounced...almost everyday I wonder what I've been laughing about.

Too many good memories.

So fun to imagine which joke, which comedy, which unexpected joy made those lines.

I must have been having one heck of a time along the way.

Perfection is a hollow pursuit.

We know this.

In our heart  of hearts we feel its truth.

Yet, still we let the illusion allow us to abort babies that we wanted but have suddenly been identified with an extra chromosome.

No longer satisfied with ordinary seeds we literally add toxins to the DNA of seeds to resist the pesticides and call them natural.  We praise genetic engineering while pouring on even more pesticides on our crops.

Not good enough.

We berate ourselves internally for our "muffin tops", our "wobbly thighs", our age spots, our gray hair...never cherishing the stories behind each of these changes.

We can't have our houses clean enough, our clothes pressed enough, our children well-behaved enough or our spouse sexy enough.

We are always asking for more.

Me included.

Which brings me back to the dandelion.

Thank God for them.

Thank God for mine.

I'm done with the poisonous lies.

Done with the fractions of truths.

Done with it.

Today, I was reintroduced to a piece of art that I learned about in 2006.

It's called "Sam and The Perfect World" by Peter Lentz.

In 2006, it won the National Portrait Gallery's Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition.

Here are Peter Lentz's words:

"My wife Rosemarie had just given birth to our son Sam, and although he appeared perfectly healthy, something, nevertheless, didn't seem right. There was an awkward silence in the room, no words of congratulation or comments about how cute he was even though he was cute. Five minutes later the diagnosis was given: Sam has Down Syndrome. "Are you going to keep him?" a nurse asked. Later that evening someone else came by to "console" us. "It's every mother's worst nightmare," she said.

Welcome to the world, Sam.

In America today, perfection is highly valued. We dump loads of chemicals on our lawns to try and get rid of every weed, every dandelion. Models and supermodels are tall, impossibly fit, their clothes stylish and wrinkle-free. Images like this tend to change our perceptions, our ideals, until finally they leave us looking around at the peeling paint on our own houses, and our less than fit bodies, and it leaves us wanting.

Perfection, I would submit, is overrated. And besides, I like dandelions.

In the painting Sam assumes the role of presenter, host, even tutor, of this most revealing examination of the civilization man has made for himself. Sam is not society's accepted definition of perfection. In spite of that, or perhaps because of that, he really does have an important message for everyone to hear."

Umm, I like dandelions too.

I'm blowing it off.

Making my wish.

Enjoying the bright, bold yellow in the thick of the green.

Perfection deserves some Round Up.

Not us...not a single one of us.

Your job today: accept and love the people in your life, 

most especially, yourself.

Girlfriends

Susan Branch font :)


Yesterday I was smiling...all day long.
Magically, it had happened again, the calendars were free, pockets of time were secreted away and I could make my way to have dinner with my girlfriend.

I got the kids handed off and properly freshened myself up from the dust of the day and got in the car...
hooked up Pandora...and drove like the wind.
Singing out loud...LOUD...to MY music...rocking out inappropriately, dancing in the car I could feel the tension of daily annoyances, lists of things to do, and chores that hang over my head just melt away...
an hour in the car all to yourself can be a very good thing.

Along with significant time with your dear friend.

This chick and I have been hanging out, spending hours on the phone since high school.
My dad would just be mystified as I laid on my bed and gabbed the hours away with someone I had already been with for six hours at school.

What did we talk about??

Looking back, I have no idea.
(Note to teens today: keep copious notes and journal like crazy so you can remember these things.)
I'm guessing it was:
Boys.
Drama.
School.
Homework.
Life's injustices.
Dreams.
The good stuff of high school.

I feel sorry for teens today who don't dish on the phone.
They are missing out on some serious fun.

We went to the same college and lived together for part of it, but we weren't joined at the hip.
We joined different sororities.
We had different groups of friends.
Our own interests and dreams.
But like a fantastic score for a movie, she was always in the background, making my world better.

We got our jobs, figured out our paths and saw less and less of each other.
We lived about an hour away from each other and would meet for dinner.

We've been doing it for decades.

There is something so magical about a good friend.
Someone who just gets it.
Who's always on your side.
Who cheers for you.
Who cries with you.
Who does crazy things on your behalf.
Who will pray or pay or play whenever you ask...and many times when you don't even say it out loud...she just seems to know.

I'm blessed to have several good girlfriends.
People who have my back...and whose back I cover whenever I can.
It goes both ways.
It's comfort and care...bravery and honesty...saying the hard stuff out loud.
Owning it...and figuring it out...
or sometimes just recognizing there's no solution to be had and finding a way to make peace with it.

It's righteous anger and hilarious mortification and breath-taking beauty.
It's the wonder and sacredness of getting to be a girl and getting to go deeper
and have those kind of friends.

Leisurely eating dinner last night, sharing salads and delicious taste treats and desserts and secrets and hopes,
I found myself so sentimental...so full of gratefulness  for
this right here...that moment right there...
the good stuff.
So so blessed by friendship...long lasting...
all-the-walls-down kind of friends.

It's easy to gloss over it.
So normal to not make the time
or find an excuse to not be together...
but these people are what life is about.

They are only lent to us...we can't take it for granted.
We need to carve out the pockets on the calendar and say out loud:
you are important...too important to act so casually about.
We must make the time to be together.

Time for laughter and joy and friendship --
 those are the real sparkly gems shining in our cave of life.

So thank you, Tara, for finding the time and making it happen...
today, you're my grace-in-the-ordinary...
have been for decades.






more Susan Branch adorableness!

Tea for Two

"Enjoy life sip by sip, not gulp by gulp."

-- The Minister of Leaves

A tiny taste of heaven.


Do you have a secret place?
A spot you unknowingly find your way to when you need a rest or need to take a deep breath.
I have several secret spots that refuel me, that calm me, that bring it all back to the real stuff that matters.

When the world feels too crazy, I make my way to one of these places and
s-t-o-p
and breathe...big, long, deep oxygen-rich breaths.

It's not so serious.
No to-do list is that important.
It's all going to get done anyway...
who cares if it's not all done at the exact perfect time in the exact perfect way.

This, this right here -- is way more important.

And that's how I was feeling last Saturday.

I had chores to complete.
Work to finish.
Emails to return.
And a presentation to get done.

None of it mattered.

I woke up on Saturday and decided to share my secret place.

Caroline was ready.

So I zoomed out of my pj's (which really isn't-Saturday-morning-like-me), showered and got ready and whispered to Caroline...
"I'm taking you someplace special this morning, just me and you.  Will you get dressed?"

She needed no prompting...she got herself together in a flash.

We completed a tiny subset of the regular Saturday stuff that must get done and headed out...on bikes.

*****

[Now I must add here that I've been wrestling with the constant intrusion of my cell phone.  I've been feeling like it's been owning me rather than the other way around.  And then a tiny little seed sprouted in my mind...I know it shouldn't be too crazy of a thought...but sadly, it was for me...I decided to make my cell phone optional.  I was going to make Saturday (and maybe even Sunday if I got good at it!) my cell-phone-free day. And since that little thought just kept going around and around in my head, this very Saturday seemed like the day to try.  So, I told John that I was going to be out of touch for a few hours, left my cell phone on the counter and away we went.]

*****

It was the weirdest sensation!
I felt naked and free and vulnerable and information-less and
finally, finally,
blessedly undivided.

I could attend to this moment, right now.

Distraction-less.

Focused.

Centered.

Attention squarely on the important things of the moment:
this little girl, seven turning eight,
what table to choose in this darling garden patio?
what tea?
should we get a scone or another type of pastry or the fruit cup?
what is Devonshire cream anyway?

how are you?
what have you been noticing? or thinking? or hoping?

I began to notice her eyes;
the way she fashioned words;
the grown-up way she was sitting;
the way she perused the menu.

Time, so often my enemy, stood still.

Without my phone to capture the moment,
I took snapshots in my mind.
Froze it...right there.
Noticed the sunlight.
The tiny purple zigzag fringed flowers in a tiny vase on the table.
Her eagerness to watch the sand timer count out the three minutes -- the perfect amount for steeping the peach tea that we had chosen.
Her willingness to pour our tiny glass chiseled cups carefully full of the golden elixir.

We marveled.
We sniffed and savored and stopped.

We giggled at the dollhouse sized wooden spoons that were what allowed the Devonshire cream and jam to make it to our scones.
We talked and talked.

It goes without saying that my secret place has become her secret place...and, as is the worry with sharing secrets, she loved it so much she wants everyone to go there.
Immediately she asked if Daddy and Patrick could come next time.
How about her cousins?
Maybe this was a place for a birthday party?

I just smiled...and told her sometimes secret places have to be kept quiet and shared carefully.

My answer to every question was Cheshire Cat confusing...maybe...we'll have to see how it goes...
maybe.

Right now I want to hold it close and keep it tucked out of sight.

But I know it won't last long...
she's itching to go again...trying for a second Saturday in a row.

I know she loved the tea and the garden and the Devonshire cream but I really think she's asking for more undivided attention.

I'm going to honor that request...try even harder...and I admit, I've done a poor job this week.
But, there's always Saturday.

Glorious Saturday:
 A pot of tea
Some denim blue eyes
Time, lingering and lounging like a friend,
And the supreme comfort of really being present
as my present.

Thank You, Monet!

"I hope some day to meet God, 

because I want to thank Him for the flowers."  

--Robert Brault

Caroline in a field of white and purple daisies.

It's that time of year, or maybe it's because we just had earth day, or maybe it's because I spent some time at my favorite place, the beach, but I have this beautiful planet on my heart.


No matter where you walk, right now it's showing off.

Taken as I was driving because I was so so utterly blown away by the fleeting majesty.

In my heart, I want to be a photographer, if only to capture the momentary glory and remember...
to press it on my heart in hard times and times of deep sadness...
to know that right around me -- always within reach --
is this.

I have an irrational fondness for these tiny, tiny daisies that sprout up only at this time of year amid the regular grass...as if trying to blend in...and finding it an impossible task:

We have wild mustard blooming and those magical California poppies and lupines and iris and roses...always the roses.

I can't help myself.  

I'm in love...with this earth, with the non-stop wonders that surround me... 

with the everyday holiness.

It's sacred.

Found at a Brownie meeting...in between skit practice and singing campfire songs.

One of my most recent favorite books had the dad thinking aloud with his terminally ill teen-age daughter about our world:
"Sometimes it seems the universe wants to be noticed.  That's what I believe...I think the universe is improbably biased toward consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed."
The Fault In Our Stars -- John Green


I agree!
It's pretty obvious it wants to be noticed...

This happens every, single day.  No.big.deal.

How do we stop noticing??
How can we not tear up with the beauty?
I guess it's called taking it for granted...
but I want to stop and notice.
I want to fill my heart up with the every day glory that is only here in this moment, right now.

*****

I recently taught an art lesson to a bunch of 2nd graders.  We went to our local arboretum and looked at some bridges and wild flowers and just stopped and got quiet and paid attention.

I told them that Claude Monet painted the same bridge in London, the Waterloo Bridge, over 100 times.
This took my breath away.
I showed them the same bridge painted on three different days, years apart by Monet...
one was a gorgeous pinkish hue, fused with early light;
one was bluish in tone with a hint of fog...the blue, a light turquoise with some green tints as well;
one was a lavender, dusky and melancholy and utterly breath-taking.

I've been thinking so much about Monet's wisdom.

Nothing is the same.

Each day it is a bit older, a bit more lush, or broken in, a bit more overgrown or mowed or the tree limbs are bare or that flower is just springing up or the light plays a different way.

His passion for seeing the very same scene with different eyes has transformed me.

Seals and Crofts said it best:
"We may never pass this way again."

Just for today, let's notice.

Happy Underwear

"Think big thoughts but relish small pleasures."

-- H. Jackson Browne

I'm going to share a little secret.  

In fact, it's so good, I kind of want to make my own line of it, trademark it, sell it at Target and make every woman's day. 

Ready??

How do you start your day?

I have one guaranteed, sure-fire, way to make your very first moments of the day good ones.

Happy underwear.

No, I'm not joking.

Don't make fun.

Give it a try.

Get an "A" for effort -- go out and find yourself some happy underwear.

Now, I'm not talking sexy underwear.

Although I think we can make the argument that happy can be sexy.

I'm talking underwear that is comfy, perfectly yours and super cute.

When you see those undies in your drawer, you smile.

When you see them in your laundry basket, you can't help it...you just have to fold them up and tuck them away for that great day called tomorrow.

Trust me, 

when you put on happy underwear, 

you can't help it...you get happy.

I just went out and found some more happy underwear...heck, if the kids get new school shoes, the least we can do for ourselves is to find a few new pair of cute, comfy undies.

They weren't expensive.

No, I didn't find mine at Victoria's Secret...although I won't judge you if that's your spot.

I just want every woman to have some happy undies.

Your spouse will thank me.

Your kids will thank me.

Why should the toddlers have all the fun?

It's a simple pleasure and one that can really make a big difference.

If you put on something that makes you feel like a frump, well, then, I guess you give off that frump vibe and you feel like a frump all day long. 

It doesn't even matter how cute that outfit is.  

I can do simple arithmetic.

Frumpy undies + cute outfit = zero.

And, if you're really sad, well, that's OK, stick with some sad undies for awhile...

but, just so you know, there's no downside to happy undies.

I've been on the happy undie bandwagon for years -- decades even.

Life is way too short to have boring undies.

Toss out the utilitarian neutral-colored blah guys.

Anything with snags, (God forbid) holes, extra strings or bad spots must go.

Go ahead.  

Find the time.

 Get some happy underwear and have yourself a great day.

Even you ladies sporting a burqa...bust out for the happy undies.

You can thank me later. :)