Our October calendar is quickly filling up. I don’t know about you, but our schedule is always feast of famine. We will have days or weeks of relatively nothing on the books, and then everything sort of happens at once. October is like that for us. I will be travelling three weekends in October, and although I’m really excited about all of it, I’m already feeling exhausted. Next week Mark and I are headed to Austin for the Together for Adoption Conference. This . . .
what I want you to know: down syndrome
Today's post is by Jennifer, who wants you to know about having a child with Down syndrome: What I want you to know is that when I was 20 weeks pregnant with my second child, I got a phone call that changed my life for good. This phone call delivered the news from my amniocentesis test, that revealed that my baby boy has Down syndrome. I will admit that my first reaction was one of utter devastation. I had outdated ideas of what Down syndrome meant and God . . .
as I was saying . . .
Jafta’s open house was tonight. As I approached the classroom, I noticed the teacher had posted pictures that each child made, along with their answer to the question, “What is your favorite part of kindergarten?” Jafta’s answer: “My favorite part of kindergarten is going to the cafeteria because I buy lunch.” . . .
lunch money
Jafta is stoked on kindergarten so far. I’m actually a bit shocked at how little complaining there has been. One of his favorite things about school is the “hot lunch”. He loves everything about it . . . the greasy food, the compartmentalized plates, but especially the fact that he gets to take a wallet to school and buy it himself. It all makes him feel very grown-up and self important. We’ve been letting him get hot lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m not . . .
if you give a mouse a drainpipe
We are finally settling our accounts for all of the repairs that had to be made from The Great Flood and Exile of 2010 – which seems like a very dramatic description of a laundry load consisting of two towels. But lest you think I’m being overdramatic, this rodent did some hefty damage. And as it turns out, it wasn’t even a rat. It was a tiny little mouse that wreaked all of this havoc. By taking a bite out of the drainpipe of the washing machine, and setting into motion: . . .
twice as nice (the beans and rice revolution)
Figuring out how to feed our growing family has been a challenge this year. I don’t know why, but I find lunches especially challenging. Probably because I find grocery shopping especially challenging. I never seem to have all of the right ingredients for lunch. Menu-planning has never been my forte. Maybe I have bread, but no peanut butter, or sandwich stuff but nothing to serve with it . . . and every family member has their own particular request. . . .
the best friends that weren’t
It feels like so often, I write about specifics of our journey with Kembe just as issues are starting to resolve. I think it feels safer that way. Things are getting better, every day. He has become much more bonded to me in the last month. I can see him relaxing into our relationship with each day, and the constant testing is becoming less constant. I can see progress, even in the midst of challenge. One of the things about Kembe’s homecoming that has been . . .
99 problems but hip dysplasia ain’t one
This week . . . was not my best week. It was one of those weeks with way too many things on the to-do list for one person, in part due to my inability to set boundaries for myself, and in part because of my knack for procrastinating. I am terribly overcommitted right now in several areas, which is it’s own post, but I did finally get some resolution on a few things that were raising my stress level from moderate to DEFCON 5. We have been living with a half-finished kitchen for . . .
what I want you to know: stillbirth
I am truly blown away by the submissions and the comments to this idea of telling our stories, and seeking to understand. I am posting the first today, about stillbirth. While I have not experienced this personally, I do know the grief of multiple pregnancy losses, and I appreciate what Tara has to say: My name is Tara Beth Warrick, I am 25 years old, I live in a small town in western North Carolina. I am a pediatric occupational therapist by vocation, a dance teacher for fun, and . . .
what does it mean to be white?
In my diversity class this evening, we will be discussing the identity of whiteness. I find that typically, white people have a really hard time defining their own culture . . . that we often see ourselves as either lacking in ethnic or cultural identity, or ascribing our personal culture as the default or “standard”. So, tonight I will be asking students to come up with the cultural values and traditions that are practiced by white Americans. What would your answer be? . . .
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