Birthday Party. Questions.

Saturday I took the kids to a birthday party by myself. The daughter of a friend of mine from the mom’s group I was in when Ellie was a newborn turned one (how is that the babies are turning one?). The party was held at a building within a park, adjacent to a playground. I knew as soon as I saw the playground that we would not be going inside to the party. When Leo sees a play structure it is pretty much over. He loves him a good playground.

I was a little disappointed since I had been alone with the kids all day (Erin had to fly to New Orleans at the last minute for a funeral—don’t even get me started on the sadness that is the death of a 39-year-old mother of three to breast cancer). When I’m alone with the kids all day I usually try to schedule at least one “event,” that is, one thing that the day is centered around. Well this birthday party was the “event” and it was looking like my one chance at a social interaction for the day with someone over the age of three was going to end up being me sitting on a bench watching Leo play, bouncing Ellie on my knee.

Don’t get me wrong--I like watching Leo play. I like watching him try to figure out how to move his body. He is very daring and adventurous but he’s not impractical or unrealistic. He knows his limits and he’s very good about asking for help when he needs it. It’s rare that he gets himself into a situation on a structure that he can’t get out of. He’s big into ladders and rock walls right now which is great, but I don’t really trust him on these by himself. I have to hover a bit, which I think annoys him and I don’t love it either. Now that Ellie is officially way too big for the Bjorn (threw out my back last week and learned that lesson the hard way) taking the two of them to the playground myself is a little challenging. Also, Ellie wants to climb all over the structures herself and she is definitely not practical or realistic about what her little body can do.

I pushed Ellie in the swing and I let her climb a bit but I got tired of trying to keep her from eating sawdust and finally she was getting to heavy to carry around, so I plopped her in the stroller, completely expecting her to start whining and squirming. To my surprise she sat there quite content to watch her brother and I was relieved to be able to take a short break. After a minute or so, a woman came and sat down next to us. She was watching her daughter who looked to be four or five. I asked the woman if she was here for the party and she said she was. After a few minutes of silence she asked me how old Leo was. I told her he was almost four and she nodded and pointed to her a little boy who was a few play structures away.

“So he’s about the same as mine,” she said, nodding in her son’s direction. “He’s three.”

No, I thought to myself. He’s not the same as yours. He’s a year older. I wondered why she would say something like that when at that age, one year is a pretty big difference. Was she just assuming that because Leo has Down syndrome he’s a year behind? (he is, at least, but that’s beside the point). And then I wondered what I also wonder when people ask me Leo’s age. Are they asking because of the Down syndrome? Are they asking because he’s not speaking in comprehensible (to them) words? Do they even notice the DS?

“My son has autism,” she said.

I nodded. That was when I got it. That was when it all changed. Suddenly I didn’t mind that she compared her son to Leo. Not that Leo has autism but I understood that she was seeing that Leo was different but not as someone who didn’t understand difference. Rather as someone who has been there.

She stood up for a moment and started towards her son who was looking like he might need some help on a ladder. But then a man, the boy’s father I assumed, appeared and so she sat back down.

“He loves the playground,” she said. “We won’t be able to get him out of here for a while.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I was hoping to go the party but I don’t think we’ll be going in for a while. My friend doesn’t even know we’re here yet.”

Moments like these depress me. They make me feel isolated. Why can’t Leo just be a regular almost-four-year-old who walks into a party and joins the group, rather than seeing a playground and becoming completely transfixed by it, unable to do anything else but Play. But then I have to remind myself; it’s not necessarily the Down syndrome, stupid. How many typical 3 ½ -year-olds give a hoot about a birthday party? It’s the playground all the way, baby.

“Leo, do you want to go inside and eat some cake?” I called. No response. I was trying to think of a way to get him inside the building because seriously, my friend didn’t even know we’d arrived and since I’d gotten lost getting to the party we were ridiculously late. The party was practically over.

“Mine travels with his own cake,” the woman said, as her little boy toddled in our direction. He was holding an upside down, topless chocolate cupcake which he had smeared all over his cheeks and yellow t-shirt.

Eventually, we did get to go inside. The cake was gone but Leo got a balloon, a shiny pink Mylar one, which he adored (later he would let go of it in the parking lot but for a moment it was his and he loved it). He hugged my friend’s husband at the knees when he gave it to Leo. Friend’s husband called out to the remaining partygoers, “Look at Leo, I gave him a balloon and he hugged me! I love Leo!”

That was a good moment. That’s when I think about how Leo is living up to his reputation as the cute kid with Down syndrome. But what about when we finally had to leave and I had to carry him out kicking and screaming, balancing him on one hip while I pushed Ellie’s stroller with one hand. That was not a good moment. He would. not. walk. He went, as I like to call, "boneless." It’s not fair to Leo to expect him to be the Down syndrome ambassador, always on his best, cute behavior. But I’d be lying if I said I don’t hope that he will be. I go back to my earlier thought, that plenty of typical 3 ½ year olds don’t attend parties gracefully. Why should I expect Leo to? He doesn’t always have to be cute. He doesn’t always have to be giving hugs. But some of the people at the party have never met anyone with Down syndrome, and they may never meet anyone again. Leo will be it. The one. That’s a lot of pressure for a 3-½ year old.