All Hail the Disability/Birthday(!) Wednesday BLOG HOP!

Meriah is a genius when it comes to thinking up brilliant ideas for blog posts.  Or for events.  Or for blogs themselves (just ask her...she's got a trail of littered blog titles fanning out behind her).  Or for...well...stuff.  All of it entertaining, all of it interesting, most all of it insightful and thought-provoking.  Well, this time she's outdone herself.  Introducing, Disability Wednesday, the Blog Hop with none other than...Captain Kirk.  Uh, not really, but he's optional, and I like him, and I'm a sucker for a guy in uniform (even if he has lace on his sleeves), so he stays.  This week, Kirk has asked us bloggers about our connection to disability. 

In all seriousness, my connection to disability really doesn't go back terribly far.  Some people have those other figures in their lives who helped shape who they were, other people who may have connected them in some way to the disability community.  Perhaps they were connected themselves through their own disability.  I have only minor brushes with disability prior to the birth of my daughter, 6 years ago today (yes, today is Samantha's 6th birthday!!!). 

Let me begin by clarifying that there is, to me, a huge difference between the words "disability" and "disabled."  My daughter has a disability, but in no way is she disabled.  She is perfectly able to do things, given the tools and the instruction.  Her disability prevents her from learning or doing things in the same way as other people, meaning there may be additional steps involved, a more circuitous (on my list of words I love, btw) route to reach her goals. 

Growing up in the 70s and 80s, while it doesn't seem all that long ago to me, was a very, very different time for the disability community.  Those times were still pre-enlightenment, as I like to think of it.  Before people with disabilities were brought out into the light.  When they were still shuttered away, kept out of view, pushed aside.  I have some brief memories of people who crossed my path, who made impressions on me, and I feel fortunate to have learned from them.

I didn't actually know anyone with Down syndrome, although when Samantha was born I was convinced, in retrospect, that my older cousin, L., had it.  It turns out that she'd had a birth injury that led to her intellectual disability, not an extra chromosome.  I spent enough time with her to know that she was different, that you had to be patient with her, but that she was part of the family, kept at home by parents forging the way, refusing to shut her away in an institution.  I never knew much about L., other than that she was just there at the family gatherings, one of us.  I haven't seen her in years, and think of her often. 

My next door neighbors during my grade school years, playmates of mine, had an older sister, probably in her late teens or early 20s.  I don't actually recall her ever setting foot outside of the house, not even in their garden.  But they loved her, their parents loved her enough to protect her from the world, kept behind closed doors with the mentality of a 4 year old.  She was always there, always doting on me, always disregarded, although not maliciously, as someone we didn't necessarily want to play with.  I had forgotten about her until recently.  It was almost a shock when I remembered her, suddenly, and I was sad.  I wished I could go back and spend time with her, to help brighten her day, open up her world.  I wonder where she is now...

There were the occasional glimpses of others, in the hall at school as they switched between those classrooms, the ones that were far from our own, separate, different.      

You know at the beginning of this post where I said that my connection to disability doesn't actually go back all that far?  I think I was wrong.  It went back way further than I realized when I began to write.  I think if we all dig back, dig deep, into the hidden corners of our memories, we may find those pieces of our puzzles and see that we were prepared long in advance for our enhanced lives today.

My latest connection to disability, the one that cements my life, has made it what it is right now, has enhanced it beyond my wildest dreams, began 6 years ago today.  May 30th, 2006.  The day Samantha was born, the day we were introduced to our new baby girl.  But our lives do not revolve around Down syndrome, they do not revolve around disability.  Our lives are normal, average, better.  Our eyes are more open to the world.  Disability exists.  Down syndrome exists.  That's the connection.

The big 6 year old, on her birthday morning before school (from my cell).

Interlude

On Saturday morning, Samantha and I took a drive down to Lake Anna to visit my parents for the day and spend the night.  It's always a nice little getaway, with a beautiful drive down to get there, through rolling countryside, barren green battlefields and small, historic villages.  To be perfectly honest, however, one of the highlights is always a quick stop at a Wawa just before we exit the more populated part of our trip.  Don't laugh!  I'm serious!  Don't know what Wawa is?  Let's just say that, having grown up in South Jersey in the shadow of Pennsylvania Dutch country, Wawa is the most awesome, fantastic, excellent convenience store chain on the planet, and we're very, very sad that there isn't one anywhere close to us.  Weird, I know, but I could easily write a whole post about it.  Take 7-11 and turbo-charge it with real, hand-prepared hot and cold sandwich selections, a massive coffee station, flawless customer service, and, in most cases, a nice, clean rest room.  Samantha knows it better as the place where we buy a donut for the road.

Anyway, I digress...

On a whim, I stopped off in the parking lot of one of the battlefields to take a couple of pics of my still-cooperative child.  The stop took us less than 5 minutes before that cooperative-ness degraded to an ornery whine, but I got some of what I wanted, and we carried happily on our way to the Wawa lake. 

Yes, that's an Olivia tattoo on her arm.  I'm knowingly contributing to the delinquency of minors.

The Domestic Diva: Weekend Warrior Edition, Part 3 (?)

Continuing on with my (languishing) series about my quest to become a domestic diva on the weekends, I wanted to share some of the things I've been doing lately. This past weekend, I made a little pact with myself to ensure that I do a bit more cooking, especially for Samantha. Our meals consist of whatever's frozen and easy to make, and that's all for a very good reason - because it's easy, and we're lazy busy. But I'd like to try to find actual recipes that I can make that are just as easy, but fresher, (potentially) healthier, and more memorable.

(By the way, have any of you noticed that I've gone nearly a whole week without including any photos of Samantha?  Definitely just an oversight...I'm sure I'll more than make up for it soon enough.)

I know this is not a cooking blog, but because I don't cook, I get pretty self-congratulatory when I actually do. And my high fives and kudos and pats on the back need to be shared. With you, you lucky people. But, in all honesty, I know that you all benefit from it, too. You're just as "busy," right? So I'll do the test driving, then share my results, and you can all take from it what you will.

My requirements for recipes: 

• Must be easily adaptable to hide include vegetables
• Must have inexpensive ingredients that are easy to find, or, better still, in my kitchen cabinets already
• Must have short prep times.  I hate prep.  Defeats the purpose of being labeled easy if it requires the peeling and chopping of 15 different vegetables, creation of sauces, or putting together fancy pieces of kitchen equipment that have too many parts and take too long to clean afterwards
• Must use a minimal number of pots/pans/utensils/etc.
• Must have easy instructions

Simple, right?  We have about 300 cookbooks in the house.  But Googling "One Pot Meals" is a great way to find something quickly to fit the bill.

This weekend I made 2 new things.  First was on a whim.  I had bought a quarter of a watermelon at the store, knowing that Samantha likes watermelon.  However, every time I offered it to her, she didn't want any.  Yeah, my kid doesn't really dig fruit all that much...  Worried that it would just sit and rot in the fridge until it became a liquified puddle of goo covered in Saran Wrap, I thought I'd look up a recipe for watermelon ice.  This is the recipe I found: Watermelon Ice

I made a few modifications, such as using a seedless watermelon (no seeding required!), adding a chopped mango, adding a handful of mint from my back yard, and using orange Jello because it was the only gelatin I had in the house.  Also, I highly recommend cutting the sugar back by about half of what the recipe calls for, if not removing it altogether.  Prep time was about 10 minutes, and by morning I had the perfect desert to serve to guests (uh, if we had any guests...guess I'll keep this under my belt until...well, until whenever). 

Photographed with another cut-up mango.  Missing a frou frou mint sprig for full-effect...  :-) 

I also made not one, but two huge dishes of baked ziti.  I've never made it before, but found this recipe that was too easy and too delicious to pass up:  Baked Ziti  Of course, I modified it (recipes are only ever guidelines to me, meant to be fixed) to include chunks of chopped zucchini and ground sausage (a 16 oz. roll of Jimmy Dean sage sausage). 

Coincidentally, I was approached last week by eFoods Direct who asked me to review some of their convenient, easy-to-prepare meals.  I haven't tried them yet, but can't wait!  I should have another post for you about it next week sometime.  Seriously, it sounds pretty fantastic, and if this means that I could actually have cooked, non-microwaved meals at my fingertips without expending any effort, I'm in!  EFoods' mission is to provide, in addition to delicious food, "food security" in the event of natural disaster, storm, or even financial crisis, like the loss of a job.  Their food packets store for as long as 15-25 years (!!!), and require minimal storage space.  How many of you actually have a disaster plan?  I know we don't.  Maybe it's time to start...  Check out this page for some fascinating information about their product:  Why Choose EFoods?  In remembrance of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, they're offering bloggers and our readers two special emergency preparedness offers, one for 50% off a 7-day pantry pack, and one for 40% off a 16 serving soup and entree pack.  Visit eFoods Offer to order and redeem. 

Stay tuned for my next post on this topic!  And in the meantime, I'll keep on with my quest for Domestic Diva-hood...

A Life Like Yours, Redux

I wrote this post on July 15th, 2007.  It was my 4th blog post ever.  I got my first comment on it yesterday, and was reminded, upon re-reading, just how important that moment was for me.  And how long ago and lost in the mire of the 650-something posts since then it has fallen.  I don't know if anyone else had ever read it, and while it's not my finest example of writing, it still brings tears to my eyes to read, to remember my first experience in speaking with an adult with Down syndrome.  I think, somehow, she must have known that I needed to speak to her, while I, myself, did not know that at all at the time. 

It's funny the impression someone can have on you.  I never saw her again, but be very, very sure, I never forgot her.  Coincidentally, just last year, one of my friends reported on Facebook that she and her young son met an amazing woman with Ds at the movie theater when the woman approached them and surprised her by addressing her son directly, remarking that the two of them had something in common.  Excited by the possibility that it may have been the same woman (description and location were pretty right), I sent my friend the link to that post, and was thrilled when she confirmed.  I must apologize, though, I did not have privacy in mind back then when I posted the photo.  Now, being older and wiser, I only post photos of people when I've had their permission.  But it's one of my favorite photos of all time, and I'm not about to take it down.  Unless I'm asked to, of course. 

But this post is less about specific people than it is about what we can learn from our interactions.  Those of you who may now be the me of 5 years ago, mother to a 1-year old with that little something extra, no clear idea of what the future may hold, so much fear of the unknown, please keep your minds open, please be prepared to put yourselves into situations where you may learn from the others.  I have grown to truly enjoy speaking to adults, to embracing their lives, their families, their individuality.  I still have so, so, so much to learn, and I'm ready to let Samantha teach me.  I've let go of so much of my fear for her and her future, knowing that she can be and can do so much more than I ever thought possible before that one day, back in the summer of 2007.

I've copied that post here for you, minus the photo:

I had a conversation with an amazing woman named J.. yesterday. J. is 39 years old, and has Down Syndrome. Samantha and I attended the picnic for the Arc of Northern Virginia. J.came up to us and introduced herself and asked if she could sit on the grass with us for a while. I said absolutely. Now, I have never spoken to anyone else with DS over the age of about 1. Frankly I was a little nervous. I guess because I didn't know what to expect. I've wanted to speak to an adult, but there's always that fear of the unknown. Will I be able to understand them? Will I be disappointed in the glimpse into Samantha's future? Will it be awkward? I can only say how grateful I am for the opportunity J. gave us yesterday. She is an amazingly articulate, bright, self-aware woman, and I was absolutely drawn to her. I was disappointed when she had to leave. She asked a lot of questions about Samantha's development, and spoke about some of her own. She said that she was glad to see I kept Samantha, as her mother had chosen to keep her. It makes me teary-eyed to think about that. I would never have had it any other way. She, too, had had heart surgery to correct a defect when she was young. I asked her if she works, and she said that she has been working at one of the government agencies downtown for the last 10 years (and just received her 10-year pendant!) and takes the bus and the metro every day to get to work. I wish I could remember more of the conversation, but just the overall feeling of 'fulfillment' for having spoken to her is mainly what remains. I told her and her mother about the DSANV picnic in 2 weeks, and hope to see them there. I expressed my happiness at having met her, but wish I had told her what an impression she had made on me. I hope she knows anyway.

Two to Go

Yep, this is lame.  And super-selfish.  And completely not meaning a doggone thing.  Oh, and did I use the adjective shallow yet?  No?  Well, it's that, too. 

By way of a little background history, I started this blog with a whopping single reader.  My mom.  And she wasn't a "follower," either.  Just a reader.  Then, little by little, people not in my family actually started reading, although I'm not too sure why, since those posts in the first couple of years were beyond yawn-worthy, like the kind of things foreign interrogators will subject spies to when trying torture intelligence out of them.  I think they may have had a similar effect to waterboarding.  On second thought, perhaps those early readers were foreign interrogators...it's possible, right?  The photos were bad, the writing fairly attrocious (that's not to say it's not attrocious now, but eh, I'm glad you're here anyway!).

I then started to get followers.  I didn't really even know what followers were, but it sounded good to have them, and I was happy.  I remember the number stagnating at around 86 followers.  Like, it just sat there for days, then weeks, then months.  I would focus my persuasive mental powers on it, willing it to change, and that's when it would usually drop a few digits.  Like really, why would someone stop following?  It felt like a bit of a kick in the teeth, but I know in reality, people stop blogging.  Or they reach their limit for the number of blogs that they follow (seriously, I just found out that that's even a possibility!  I hit the 300 mark, and got an error message from Blogger, who I suspect are just trying to get some money out of me.  Who will probably be getting some money out of me in the next week or two...).  Or they die.  Or they just plain don't like me.

Then the number would rise, not just by one, but by 2, or 3 all of a sudden, like they were making up for the ones that died.  And so on and so forth, until I found myself in my current predicament (see, you knew I'd get to the point, eventually, right?). 

198. 

One hundred and ninety eight. 

A frustrating place to be.  Not budging.  So close to such a beautific round number.  Oh, how fun it would be to hear, "Two Hundred."  Such a regal number. 

Lovely.

So, if you happen to not actually follow me, but read my blog in some other way, feel free to click that little button on the right side!

I'd appreciate it immensely. 

Of course now, just to spite me, some of you will probably unfollow.  Just because you can, and because you now know the pain it'll cause me (*ahem*).

But I'm sure I'll be okay.  And I'll forgive you for your transgressions.  And the blog will go on.

Because I'm actually kinda nice.  :-) 

(Update: I wrote this whole post out and now, a couple of hours later, still a full 14 hours before I'm about to publish it, I need to actually change the title to "One to Go..." Figures. Now I look like a big fat liar. Gah.)

(Update to update:  You guys are awesome!!!)

New Obsession

Of course I'm way, way behind the times with some of this new-fangled technology...  Being within only a year of even knowing what an app is, I approach each one warily, not sure if it's going to confound my technology-soft brain, or if it'll make sense quickly and easily, if it's going to cost a bundle, or if it'll be free, or if it's compatible with my Android, or if I would need to have the reviled iPhone to make it work. 

For months I've been hearing about Instagram, but always in the context of iPhone technology.  So I shrugged it off, stated, with the overwhelming taste of sour grapes in my mouth, that I didn't want it anyway.  So there.  But secretly, back behind my contrary, could-care-less exterior, I longed to make my lame, cell-phone snapshots of my every-day activities look interesting, even artistic.  And secretly, I wished to have that unattainable app, too. 

Actually, I wasn't too worried - I have been assuming, for some time now, that anything that's available for iPhone technology only would eventually come around to the Android market anyway.  Naturally!  And after a quick inquiry to a co-worker on Friday, I found out that, lo and behold, Instagram had come to Android.  Naturally!

That night, after an effortless 30-second download (or is it upload?  I can never tell which is which), and a quick self-guided tour, I was ready to rock and roll. 

Dang this stuff is fun!  But, being as late to the party as I was, I'm pretty sure that means that the fad will end and I'll be the one left standing.  For a time.  Looking foolish.  In the meantime, I'll take what I can get.  And if I can get a snapshot of 3 ears of corn to look cool, then so be it.

Here are a few of my favorites (can you hear distant strains of the chorus from "Seasons in the Sun" as you re-visit my grainy, sepia-tinted childhood memories of the 70s?):

Loving the Felines



Photo from circa 2004


My poor cats.  For 5 years Samantha barely acknowledged their existence, allowing them to be blissfully ignorant of the woes known to house cats the world over who have the misfortune of sharing their spaces with small children.

Blissfully ignorant no more, they have awoken to the dawn of a new day, a day in which a child, hopelessly in love with the very idea of feline companionship, sees fit to hug, kiss, chase, sit on and otherwise maul said felines.

Here's a sample:

Me:  Remember, just pet the cat, Sammi.  No, just PET her, don't pick her up!  PET!  What are you doing?!?  Baby, Delilah's really old.  You have to be gentle.  Pet her, like this.  God job!  Do you hear that?  What's she doing?

Sammi:  She's purring!

Me:  That's right.  And how does she feel?

Sammi:  She feels happy!

Me:  Exactly.  So pet her only. 

How many times, exactly, do we need to have this conversation?  How many times do I have to yell, "RED LIGHT!" to try to get her to stop running after a terrified cat, maniacally giggling, calling, "Here, kittykittykittykitty..." as her graceless feet thud against the hardwood flooring, contrasting with the mad scrabbling of cat claws.

Walking into her room one day, I saw one of the poor, cornered cats, being held upside down in her clutches.  More discussion of petting only and why what she did hurt him.  More pouting and the usual "Okay, Mommy." 
Oh, and did I mention that these felines in question are upwards in age of 16 years old?  I stopped counting a while back, so I'm guessing now, but they're at least that old.  And one has 3 legs and a raging thyroid condition and weighs a mere 5 lbs. in contrast to her healthier, younger 20 lb. self...

On the plus side, my child has learned how to feed them.  When I get home from work and am rushing around to get stuff done and get her ready for bed, all I have to do is say, "Samantha, feed the cats, please..." and she is beyond happy to do so, from getting a fork from the drawer to scraping the old food out of the dishes, to putting new dry food in the dishes, all the while saying, "No, Addy, don't eat the food yet!  Wait, Delilah, not yet," and gently pushing them away.  I do the wet food part, but that's because she can't yet open the cans.

Maybe that's why the kitties are so tolerant.