Nine Years and Happiness

Today marks nine years…NINE YEARS (yes, I’m screaming and maybe even stomping my feet a little) since my mom died.

I know, I know. Here I go again. But it still doesn’t seem possible. It doesn’t seem possible that she’s gone and it certainly doesn’t seem possible that it’s been as long as it has.

But then I look at all I have done in that time, at who I’ve become, at how I’ve changed, and then it does maybe seem real (I say this as if I have a choice in the matter).

My mom liked to write down inspirational or just quality quotes. Here’s one that was on her bulletin board on the day she died:

“Being happy is largely a matter of deciding to stop being unhappy.”

I’ve scoured the Internet and quote books looking for the source, but have yet to find it. I imagine she heard it on the radio, perhaps an author was interviewed and mom furiously copied it on the scrap of paper (I come by my love of NPR honestly, throughout my childhood it was the constant “hum” in our house). But the quote: I love its simplicity, its no nonsense matter-of-factness. I recently rediscovered it shoved in a box labeled “Mom stuff” and tacked it on my bulletin board at work as a friendly little reminder-I find comfort in the message as well as the familiar loopy scrawl of my mother’s writing.

My mom and I have a lot in common and moods are one of them. She might not have liked me saying this, but she could be difficult-dissatisfied for no apparent reason, snappy and yes, moody. And if she was mad at you, well you definitely knew it. There was a restlessness about her (that I share). She took a lot of walks. She sighed. She cleaned a lot. She seemed to always be in motion. It was as though she was searching for something. She wasn’t always happy (to be fair, who is?) but there was an underlying melancholy about her sometimes, as if there was some disappointment she couldn’t quite put her finger on. I guess I’ll never know what this was about. Maybe it was just a part of who she was.

But I think this restlessness, this searching, was also what caused her to always be looking to improve herself. She read voraciously (she once told me how she was punished as a child for getting so engrossed reading the cereal box at the breakfast table that she didn’t answer her mother). She began studying French in her forties. She was always taking some kind of class and was proficient in cooking something from nearly every country (she would get on “kicks:” Malaysia one year, Thailand the next). I won't go into the number of attempts that were made at the perfect daal or chapati bread.

On the flip side of the restlessness, she also really knew how to enjoy life. She adored traveling with her beloved husband (my stepfather), and would start planning their next trip the day she returned from their last. She could make a feast out of leftovers (“Oh this? I just used what we had!”) but look out if you let her loose in her favorite market, where she’d return home with treats for everyone: fresh mozzarella, five kinds of olives, fresh pasta, warm baguette and of course, something from the bakery in a pink box tied with a crisp white string.

When she was happy, she was happy and everyone knew it. And if she loved you, she could make you feel like the most important person in the world. She showered her loved ones with gifts, and with what sometimes seemed like almost eerie psychic powers, often got people exactly what they wanted, without having to tell her in advance. For her, giving was receiving, in the extreme. I’ve written here before about how she once complimented me on my "joie de vivre" (French for “enjoyment of life). Mom, I came by it honestly. She was a great teacher.

Like any mother, my mom worried about me (her only child). I know she wasn’t happy with all of the choices I made in my life. She tried to support me as best she could and in the end, for the most part, embraced my decisions. But I’m pretty sure that one of my mother’s greatest fears for me was that I wouldn’t have children and that by extension, she wouldn’t get to be a grandmother.

I think she’d be pleased to know that her fears went seriously unfounded.

And I think I can say, unequivocally, her grandchildren would have made her happy.

The Boy of Summer

Without further ado, I give you, the result of the first ever (non baby) haircut that did not result in violence or tears (shed by us or Leo and we try not to remember the bloody nose given to the stylist at the mall kid haircutting place but it’s hard). If I didn’t know better I would say that Leo has nerves in his hair, that’s how freaked out he usually gets when you come near him with a pair of scissors.


I realize it’s not that noticeable, but it was getting mighty shaggy. In fact, Leo’s new nickname had become Wolverine. Or Helmet Head (because his hair is so incredibly thick it looked like a freaking helmet I’m not kidding).

I’m quite pleased. And it was totally DIY because Erin is among many of her talents, also a hairstylist extraordinaire.

It is a huge relief, because who could forget the great crewcut of ’09:

Yea, us either (OK, it wasn’t that bad in this picture but trust me when I tell you the back had no shape and frankly this just isn’t Leo’s style). And I'm sorry, I know I'm his mommy but Leo has GORGEOUS hair and there needs to be more of it than a crew cut allows.

Erin talked him through it and gave him tons of positive reinforcement, let him hold the scissors a few times. Honestly I think what helped is she did it close to a mirror and so Leo was able to see himself throughout the process. I swear that boy is vain vain vain. It is not uncommon to find him admiring himself in the reflection of the toaster or garbage can.

Anyway, with the new ‘do it was a lovely weekend to enjoy one of the best things about summer.

This was such a nice moment. Ellie was napping and Leo and I just sat out on the deck and enjoyed a fruit pop.

And we also talked. He told me all about the animals he’d seen at the zoo the day before. He’s becoming quite the conversationalist.

Talking 'bout penguins.

Touching the Stone and Also, Rickrack

I’ve been feeling a little blah lately, hence the no writing. I’m not depressed, just don’t feel like I have much of interest to say. The days have been feeling kind of monotonous, kind of like there are hoops that have to be gone through, tasks to cross off a list and then the end of the day comes and there is the overwhelming feeling that it all starts up again. The laundry keeps piling, the breakfasts and lunches kept having to be made, the commute has to be tolerated, the work day has to be completed.

You know the drill.

Life.

I’m working on trying to pause and enjoy the moment. And being more patient. Instead of cleaning up the kitchen while the kids eat, sit and talk with them. Instead of rushing them into the house when we get home in the evenings, let them literally stop and smell the flowers (which they love to do and try to do every single night even when I’m trying my hardest to be a joyless, rushed grow-up). The rhododendrons in our front yard seem to minds of their own—they don’t bloom every year but for some reason they are all ablaze this year in glorious fuchsia, purple and white. How can they be denied?



So in the tradition of not letting the fact that I have not much to say never stopping me from writing...

--Discipline is hard. The kids are getting old enough to understand consequences. Does that make them listen to me? Um, no. The problem with saying If you don't stop yelling at Ellie you won't get a tortilla (yes these words actually came out of my mouth this morning) is that you actually can't give Leo the tortilla if he yells at Ellie. And then you have to deal with the consequences of Leo not getting the tortilla, which is not possible to do if anyone is expected to get to school and work on time. (And yes, Leo's new, latest favorite snack is a plain, flour tortilla). Probably not going to win an nutrition awards but also, it could be worse.

--Not even a week after I raved about Leo walking straight to the car in the morning without any mad dashes to the street, he of course, made a mad dash toward the street two mornings ago. I flew towards him, leaving poor Ellie half buckled into her car seat (totally safe I assure you, but still!) as Leo made it halfway to our neighbor's yard which is on the corner and close to the street. I SCREAMED. Nice. What must the neighbors think, I don't even want to know. God love Leo's energy and enthusiasm for life but I could REALLY do without the impulsive behavior. And the fearlessness can be frightening.

--Speaking of car seats: Ellie can pretty much climb into hers. When did that happen? She’s still almost too small to reach it but she’s darn close. With a little push on the bottom she’s able to make it. And oh you should see how proud she is. And you should hear Leo cheer for her! He really is the most enthusiastic cheerleader. I think he has a future in it.

--Ellie said “No, Leo!” yesterday. I guess she hears me say it so much that she’s picked it up. Hopefully it will help her begin to be able to defend herself better. She now repeats after me, whenever she hears it (which sadly, is a lot, more than I probably should…). On the bright side, both kids are very good about cheering the other one on for a job well done (see above, re. Ellie car seat climbing).

-I’ve mentioned before that Leo calls me “Dee-dee” (his version of Mommy). I’ve wondered if Leo’s speech/language would rub off on Ellie and so far she calls me Mommy and all the other “right” words are used, except one. Leo has always said “Day” for thanks. He says it with a sign and everything (touching his hand to his chin) I guess day does sort of sound like thanks...guess who else says “day” for “thanks” now? You got it. Oh well. At least they are both quite polite.

--This weekend I was doing puzzles with the kids and had to pick my jaw up off the floor as I watched Ellie assemble the alphabet puzzle perfectly, all the letters into their appropriate spots. I know this is just typical almost 2-year old stuff but I am aghast at how easy everything is for her. It’s almost like she’s cheating or something. I know this makes no sense but it’s just the thought that came to me as I watched her in action.

-In a similar vein, Ellie’s language trajectory continues to stun me. I say something once, ONCE and she picks it up. She can say zebra (and knows what one is). And umbrella. And garbage truck. I know, all typical stuff but for me it is completely new territory.

--We went to a fundraiser for Leo’s school on Sunday. It was held at an old Elk’s Lounge that looked straight out of 1958, no joke. There was a dance floor, a DJ playing oldies, a huge buffet, and a lot of people with Down syndrome dancing. Leo wanted nothing to do with it. Friends and teachers from Leo’s school came over to say Hello and he was the opposite of friendly. He buried his head in Erin’s neck and shot dirty looks to everyone who dared approach us. At one point, when he was sitting at the table with his arms folded on the table, his full lips in a perfect pout. I leaned over to Erin and said “People with Down syndrome are always so happy!”

I honestly think Leo is so busy and social during the week that on the weekends he prefers to be a social hermit. Sometimes I can’t blame him. I worry a little bit about something sensory going on (I kind of hate that term though, doesn’t it seem like A LOT of kids have sensory issues, Down syndrome or no?) Maybe a lot of kids just don’t like loud stuff? I think most of them grow out of it.

--I’ve been watching “In Treatment.” I’ve watched it On Demand and so far have only watched the ones about Mia and April. It’s interesting and so well written. I suppose it appeals to the voyeur in me and also, I love watching people with WORSE problems than mine. It's a little like a car wreck (can't look away) but also strangely reassuring. I am gearing up for the long swath of horrific television that summer TV is. And “Breaking Bad” (the ultimate guy show, but seriously if you are not watching this show you need to be. Don't let the violence scare you. This is one smart show that reaches far beyond its subject matter (dying chemistry teaching cooking crystal meth--yea I know, doesn't get you right away as something you could relate to does it but trust me) is almost over. Whatever will I do?

Lastly, here are two summer items I can’t stop thinking about.

This, for me.

Our kitchen, our whole downstairs really gets crazy hot in the summer (and it's not even summer yet). I suddenly have no tolerance for regular old normal, plastic fans.

And these, for Ellie. I think I got a pair every summer as a little girl.

I’d like to get Leo some sandals too. These
would be adorable on him except they wouldn't work with his orthotics. Also his stupid school makes him wear stupid closed toe shoes (how's that for pouty?).

Oh and speaking of Leo’s feet, his PT called me to inform me that his $375 orthotics don’t appear to fit him. Too small. WTH?

I called the physiatrist (I think that’s what it’s called). His response: PTs say this ALL the time. It’s a constant problem with PTs disagreeing with orthopedists and with the fitting of orthotics. Who knew. We have a follow-up with the orthopedist scheduled for a few weeks from now so we'll see.

Lastly, and perhaps most exciting of all (I definitely buried the lede, folks), Amy has a beautiful new blog! If you read me you probably already read her, but check her out if you haven't already. There's rickrack and more. Because really, you cannot go wrong with rickrack, (and also a wonderful picture of Amy and her gorgeous girls) to say nothing of the writing which will make you laugh, cry and think, probably all at the same time.

Ha

Thanks to Suz at (S)motheringsuburbia for sending me to Awkward Family Photos. So freaking funny.

Surprises (The Good Kind)

The two nights following my last entry were of course, great.

There was a moment on Wednesday night when Leo was ordering me to sit “right here!” (meaning next to him, he copies this from Ellie who tells me where to go constantly). And so there we sat, Leo on one side, Ellie on the other, eating scrambled eggs. Every once in a while Leo would lean over and kiss my arm, rest his soft little head on my shoulder. He’s had a burst of affection lately. He’s always been a sweetie, but kind of like a cat, on his own terms. That seems to be changing. I can rub his back and he doesn’t flinch, and he’s taken to leaning on me, resting his round little baseball mit shaped hand on my knee, during book time before bed. It tears me up a little.

When Leo is good, he is very, very good.

This morning he helped me take the garbage out. He calmly went downstairs without making too much noise and waking Ellie. He put on his coat without making me chase him around the house. Two mornings in a row he has walked directly to the car and climbed into his carseat without straying (he is famous for the fake-out-sprint-toward-the-street-heart-attack-to-mommy-move).

I just want to give him the credit where it’s due.

Another huge thing? This is the first time since he was an infant (ah … he was such a sweet, agreeable, mellow little baby…) that he has taken medication without needing to be put into a headlock. He was put on oral antibiotics for strep throat last week. As I prepared his first dose I steeled myself, preparing for the usual violence when I tried to give him the penicillin. I was caught off-guard by the illness and was out of yogurt smoothie (which is what I normally mix his antibiotics with) so was concerned about him taking it “straight.”

Imagine my surprise when he just took it straight, without objection, without commotion. He took it in the syringe that is awesome (thanks Amy!) in three calm swallows.

It brings to mind one of the best pieces of parenting advice I’ve ever been given. I was in the early days of sleep hell with Ellie and my friend Lisa (otherwise known as the Sleep Master, she has all three of her kids (twins and a singleton, all under 2!) in bed by 7 p.m. every night (and yes they sleep through the night). Yes she is a golden god, but that is another topic.

“Try it again,” Lisa said to me, when I was whining and moaning about all the sleep techniques that didn’t work. “If it didn’t work last week, try it again this week. They change every day.”

She is SO right. It’s been the case more with Ellie than Leo, just because at this rate their speed of development is so different--Leo’s stages seem so molasses slow sometimes that I forget that he will change. He will mature. But this week he took his medicine like a big boy, not a wild animal. It is a nice reminder. My little boy is growing up.

I need to give him the room to change. I am so quick to assume that he can't or won't do things. And he is capable of so much.

In no particular order, some events of note that are not all that notable, but mostly I just want to remember them.

-Ellie has become very interested in watching me put on my makeup. It is pretty much the last thing I do before leaving the house—I quickly apply a little powder, blush, eyeliner and mascara—an attempt to look slightly human and not exhausted—at the mirror by mudroom door. No matter what she is doing Ellie now races to my side when she sees the makeup bag come out. She runs the blush brush through her hair and tries her hardest to get the mascara open. She dug a hole in my pressed powder with her index finger—oops. I find her fascination both frightening and adorable.

-Leo’s been putting more and more sentences together! This week I’ve heard: “Dee-dee, more Dora” and “Dee-dee, more pasta, here.” Also, “Dee-dee, play, eat,” which means he wants to eat breakfast downstairs in the playroom, something I let him do when I am desperate to keep him out of my hair during the breakfast-lunch-being-made-in-the-morning-crunch.

-Ellie is also putting more and more sentences together. She also said "Mommy pasta here." Something about that pasta seems to really provoke language. Must share this phenomenon with Leo's ST.

-Ellie ate chips and salsa this week. I should add this was medium salsa. Not at all mild. She didn’t blink. In fact she seemed to enjoy it because she didn’t stop and flames didn’t shoot out of her ears. I watched her closely with the chip and she did fine. I wouldn’t make a habit out of this but she was insistent (she saw me eating it). Of course, we’re talking about a person who at barely one year old vigorously and happily gulped down saag paneer, so why should I be surprised by a little salsa.

Like I said, I need to remember they can surprise me, in good ways.

Growl

I know Leo is just being an older brother. I should be happy, thrilled even, that he appears to be smart enough to be menacing. I do think it shows true intelligence to figure out that A) one’s behavior has an affect on people or a person (in this case Ellie) and to B) carry out a plan of “attack.” I love the guy but he can be sneaky and conniving. Brilliant, actually.

Back to the “growl.” Slowly Leo has begun to realize he can “growl” at his sister and terrify the pants off of her. He roars, growls really, close to her and in her face often, and her tiny little body jumps, then comes the terrified scamper towards Mommy or Mama and the pleas for “Uppy! Uppy! Uppy.”

I know this is normal sibling stuff (or so I’m told as I have no point of reference) but it’s upsetting. It’s upsetting to see Ellie so scared and it’s upsetting that my pleas to Leo to stop go completely and utterly unheard. Time-outs? He whines and then laughs at me as he’s freed.

When I’m alone with the two of them, Leo often (to be, fair not always) does not listen to me at all. It’s obvious he’s very jealous of Ellie and who can blame him? It’s his job to be jealous of her and annoyed by her, she’s the little sister, he’s the big brother. It’s just hard, because no matter what I say or do (time-out, “treat” restriction), Leo doesn’t seem to mind at all. He keeps on growling. And Ellie keeps on reacting (she’s the perfect victim, by the way).

Not to say that Leo is pure evil and Ellie is pure innocence. She can certainly hold her own in the Annoying Little Sister Department. But still.

I just keep telling myself, it’s a phase. It’s a phase.

Last night after Erin came home from work (she had to work late) I stood at the sink washing dishes for the morning lunches and I recalled to her the particularly bad night.

Everyone was tired (including me, did I mention I have strep throat? Gah!). Leo was not at his finest and frankly, neither was I. He figured out that in addition to growling at Ellie he could also swipe the paci out of her mouth (a move that features the added bonus of sort of hitting her but also upsetting her by dislodging beloved paci). Then there was the coup de grace: as I was trying to wrangle two squirming bodies from potty time to the bath tub, Leo managed to find the plunger and toilet scrubby behind the commode and attempted a nice jab in the face with the aforementioned tools, at his sister.

“I just wish Ellie was better at defending herself,” I said to Erin. “It’s our job to make sure she feels safe in her own home. Not to mention I hate that I feel like all I do lately is yell at Leo.”

“Cheer up,” Erin said. “Pretty soon Ellie’s going to be bigger and smarter than Leo and you won’t have to worry about her so much.”

It’s sad to say, but I think it’s true. And it kind of breaks my heart.

But I it’s more than that. Erin and I talked about it a little again this morning. With Ellie’s burgeoning maturity and understanding, she’s soon going to understand Leo more and why he behaves the way he does (at least that’s my hope). She’s also going to have to learn patience and tolerance. My hunch is she might understand Leo better than any of us do..

Hands down, Leo adores Ellie. Ask him who his favorite person is and every time the answer is the same: “Ellie.” And we did not plant this answer in his head, he came up with it himself. The funny thing is, when Leo tries to show Ellie affection, be it through a hug or a kiss, she beats the door down to get away. And so in classic “if he likes you he’ll pick on you fashion,” Leo chooses to growl to get Ellie’s attention. It might not be the attention Ellie wants, but there you go.

So maybe I just need to be more patient with the growling.

Easier said than done.

A kinder, sweeter, non-growling moment. They do exist.

A Happy Mother's Day

For many years, Mother's Day was wonderful, filled with brunches with three generations, my grandmother (Bubby), my mom, and me. There were cards exchanged, gifts given and received (perfume and earrings were big favorites). Most likely we'd spend the afternoon going to a movie or shopping.

And then there were two. My grandmother died in 1987. Then it was just my mom and me. When I got older I took her out to brunch. I still gave her earrings or perfume, sometimes both.

Unfortunately it's that last Mother's Day in 2000 that I remember most clearly. I still recall standing in a busy card store on an unseasonably hot May day on the Upper West Side of New York City. I stood frozen in front of the card racks, terrified. I had to find the perfect card for my mom, the one that said it all. I knew in my heart of hearts that this was going to be our last Mother's Day.

For years after that, Mother's Day was terrible. Erin and I would go out to brunch (she would sweetly always try to not work that day, knowing I hated spending it alone). But brunch out was painful, almost masochistic because who goes to brunch on Mother's Day? Mothers! And I didn't have one anymore.

And so some years I would hide. I would have a glass of pity wine in the early afternoon, and mope.

Then came the first year I got a Mother's Day card. It was May of 2003 and I was pregnant. But I knew in my heart of hearts that I was miscarrying (the "numbers" weren't doubling as they were supposed to, so said the bloodwork I'd gotten back on Friday). Still, Erin optimistically gave me a Mother's Day card. It was bittersweet--we both knew (hoped) that even if that pregnancy didn't work out there would be another. And there was, six months later I got pregnant with Leo.

May of 2005. My first Mother's Day as a mother.

The sadness magically lifted, not completely, but more than I ever thought it could have. I still missed (still miss) my mom, truly and deeply and every damn day.

But now I am a mother. And it's not just that I'm too busy to be sad, it's something bigger than that. It's something I can't quite put my finger on, but there you go. Maybe it is all the other mothers that I know now. There is the caregiver at Leo's school, old enough to be my mom, who kisses me on the cheek and hugs me and wishes me a happy Mother's Day. There are the clerks at the grocery store, who say it too, and I find it touching. Does that make me desperate or a sap? Who knows.

I still miss someone being my mom, having that maternal figure to check in with, that touchstone. But somehow becoming a mother myself has completed some kind of necessary circle that has erased at least some of the sadness. It's filled some of the hole, though it will never be completely filled again. Of course it's also a little bittersweet, having these two wonderful little people running around and no Mom or Bubby here to take in all the miniature deliciousness.

I still miss those brunches with Bubby and Mom, some 22 years ago (god I'm old!). It's like they were in another lifetime, and in a way, they were.

Today was not very Mother's Day like. Erin had to work, so the kids and went shopping at Costco, then came home and ate popsicles in the backyard. It was a beautiful day, breezy, crisp and clear, almost autumnal. Ellie is taking a marathon nap right now (which is the only reason I am even able to sneak this post in) and for the moment, Leo is playing semi-quietly. That is what I call the ultimate Mother's Day present.

There was no brunch (unless you count yogurt and strawberries with a toddler at 6:30 a.m., not quite my idea of brunch). In true Murphy's Law fashion, Leo slept in so Ellie naturally decided to get up early (what is it with those two?).

Bubby and my mom would have loved to have been here, I think. After all, they both liked to wake up early. And we all know they loved to shop.

Staph

With my recent spate of freak encounters I hadn't even had a chance to post about Leo's weird face rash. It looks like acne really. I've been calling him my little 14-year old boy and teasing him that he needs Clearasil. I wasn't really worried about it because it was just limited to his face. And like any awesome working mom I've been stretching the limits, hoping he didn't need to be kept home for some pimples.

But I took him to the doctor today. It just couldn't be ignored any longer and turns out it's staph. Or what looks to be staph, and so they're treating it as such. And yes, the doctor even decided to amp up my freakout factor by mentioning MRSA, you know, the drug resistant staph. Isn't that also related to the flesh eating virus? I'm going to try not to Google anything more on it for fear that I won't sleep for the next week.

The doctor assured me it's most probably NOT that and that what Leo has is super, super common amongst kids.

So we're home, pretty much quarantined for the next few days and armed with multiple antibiotics for multiple orifices. Oh and also, the whole family gets to be treated.

Awesome.

What to Say

Thanks for the comments on what happened at the party on Saturday night. I felt sort of blue all day Sunday about it, which might sound silly, but it was just upsetting, and weighed on my mind like an icky dream you try to forget but can’t.

I think I was also disappointed because since we’ve moved to the ‘burbs it hasn’t been that easy to connect with a community or find many easily accessible, like-minded people. It’s not that I was expecting to fall into a huge group of new awesome friends at the party (I’m not all that crazy about our neighbors, to be honest, so why would I want to be best friends with their friends?). I think I was just looking forward to the possibility of meeting some new people, and didn’t expect to end up leaving kind of abruptly, with hurt feelings.

Which brings me to my next point: I’ve got to, got to grow some thicker skin. I also have to start thinking a little more on my feet (aren’t I full of the clichés this morning). I need to not be passive about offensive or inappropriate remarks or questions. (That includes use of the word “retard” by a friend or acquaintance—thankfully, it hasn’t come up lately but I’m sure that since I’m writing this it will—I have yet to confront anyone about it despite multiple opportunities in the past). A sidenote: I love the hell out of Dan Savage but I really wish he’d stop using the “R” word.

So. Going forth, no more Mrs. Nice Girl. Like any good, well-socialized female, I know that I tend towards “making nice.” Don’t rock the boat; don’t cause conflict, never call people on their crap. I need to stop. I owe this to myself. Most of all, I owe this to Leo.

I had a sort of opportunity this morning to do something (another odd run-in though not exactly upsetting, just, well, ODD).

I was standing outside Leo’s room at the daycare, Leo at my feet, refusing to go into the room. He’s been sick (more on that in a different post) and was having an “I don’t want to go to school moment.” A newish dad (I’ve never spoken to him before-his daughter just started at the daycare about two months ago and is in the preschool room) was dropping off his daughter. He studied Leo for a moment.

“Reminds me of this autistic girl I saw on TV. You couldn’t tell there was anything wrong with her and boy could she sing! It was amazing!”

Um, OK?

Honestly I didn’t know what to say. What he said wasn’t insulting, it was just completely odd. Like, hello non sequitur! I thought about correcting him by saying that Leo didn’t have autism, or asking him, hmm, I wonder why Leo, who is laying down in the hallway not wanting to go to daycare is reminding you of a singing girl with autism?

Instead, I just “nothinged” him. That’s an old family expression when you just ignore someone you don’t want to deal with. I was tempted to say something about it to the teacher who I’m pretty sure overheard the whole, strange interaction, but I decided not to.

The old me may have smiled and tried to chat Odd Dad up.

But not the new me.

Not exactly an “educational” moment for sure, but I certainly didn’t go out of my way to be nice. For me, that’s progress. Of course, hind sight being what it is, I wish I'd handled things differently. I think I should have said something to the effect that Leo doesn't have autism, but I didn't. One more favorite cliche applies here: "Rome wasn't built in a day."

I feel that I need to add a caveat here, that it’s not that I plan on going out of my way to be snarky or rude to people who say what I deem to be inappropriate things, I just need to stop feeling like I need to make them feel comfortable. These incidents are not going to go away. If anything, as Leo gets older and is more of a presence out in the world and independent of us us, they're going to increase. I also can't help but think that as the precision and ease of prenatal testing increases and the Down syndrome community possibly (let's face it, probably) shrinks, there will also be more questions.

I also have to shed (or at the very least lose some of) the weight that Leo is the Poster Child for Down syndrome and all people who come in contact with him will form their opinions/impressions of DS based on poor Leo. He’s one little boy. And we’re one family, just doing the best we can.

We’ll see how it goes.

Just Wondering

What is it about having a child with Down syndrome that causes people to ask incredibly personal and in my view, inappropriate questions?

I wish I knew. I mean, I know there was some alcohol involved (just returned from next door neighbor's 40th birthday bash and the red wine was a-flowin') but come on. Would I Have Had My Son if I Had Known? Um, I don't know. It's Saturday night...it's a party and I have NEVER FREAKING MET YOU. Do I want to discuss this?

Just wondering. Why some people are the way they are.