Timeline Meme

I don't usually do memes, but this one sounds constructive. And it sure beats the series of posts that have been knocking around in my head and are basically a reliving of some of my most traumatic experiences. Now, doesn't that sound fun?

Timeline meme

25 years ago: It was 1979 and I was newly 5 years old. I was in my 3rd year of preschool, since my parents were planning a move and wanted me to start Kindergarten in the new place. I remember a few things from this year, like finding the black widow spider in our Albuquerque back yard and taking it in for show-and-tell after my mother killed it. And being regularly beaten up by my "friend" from across the street; I still have a negative association with the green roofing Lincoln Logs. And being such a slow eater that I got left alone in the lunchroom one day at preschool. That didn't bother me at all until I realized that I wasn't big or strong enough to open the doors to let myself out.

20 years ago: I was in the 4th grade, and reality finally hit me. Until this point, I had always been the best, the fastest, the smartest, the teacher's pet. This year I had Mrs. Neal, who believed that she needed to make up for all the spoiling I'd received over the past 10 years. She was very effective, but I know that she secretly loved me because of the really awesome book she gave me for Christmas (she gave everyone a different new book). This year I also painfully learned long division and got my first bra. My favorite T shirt had Garfield on it and said, "I'm cute, and housebroken too." I put myself on my first diet.

15 Years ago: In the fall of 1989 I was in 9th grade. My mother had gone back to work full time, and I celebrated my freedom by always being late for school. I learned to sneak through the greenhouse into my first period science glass so that I didn't get into trouble. I played volleyball and basketball, and I was on the drill team (pom pons, halftime shows), and was in several plays. I'd spent the previous summer getting over the worst relationship of my life and some really impressive depression. I had also taken Driver's Ed and earned my restricted license, an experience that you city folk really missed out on.

10 Years ago: I was in the first semester of my second year of college. At this point I was casting about wildly. I knew I'd made a mistake choosing my university, but it had felt so right at the time. I chose English as my major simply because that's where my best grades were. I was in year two of an unhealthy relationship with a rich asshole that I still remember fondly and often. I decided to pledge a co-ed service fraternity to meet new people and make better friends. It was one of the best decisions of my life.

5 years ago: In 1999 life was good. I'd been out of school for two years and I had a good job, great apartment, and wonderful boyfriend (who I met through that co-ed service fraternity in college). I had my first brand-spanking-new car, a leased, silver Saturn coup. I was in great shape and playing roller hockey several times a week. Although I didn't know it, I was about to become engaged to be married in a couple of weeks.

3 years ago: I was 27, the year I'd always imagined I'd be officially grown up. One look in the mirror showed me that I wasn't at all what I'd expected to be. I had a good job that I enjoyed, an adorable little pug named Lizzi, a great husband (though he was working in Michigan at the time and was only home on weekends, causing lots of stress and arguments), and owned a house. But my life seemed . . . ordinary, my career undistinguished.

1 year ago: I had just given birth to my daughter, Eleanor. I had expected to be squashed flat as a bug by post-partum depression and was surprised to find myself buoyant, instead. I loved my daughter, loved my life as a new mom, loved the 2 weeks of daddy and mommy and baby home alone together in our little bubble before daddy went back to work, and was very proud of what my body had done. But there were terrible things looming on the horizon that I was about to have to deal with.

This year: Oh, this year. I turned 30 in September. Ellie had open-heart surgery in January. She had lots of firsts, many of which are amazing and exciting and wonderful. I love her more than I imagined I would, but it's sometimes so crushingly depressing, this incurable Down syndrome, even though she's amazing, remarkable, and very high-functioning. Still, every new thing: is this normal? So, to be healthy, to be happy, I should focus some on me, right? Do I return to work, or not? Could I actually be a writer? I started writing again, for the first time since college. I like it.

Yesterday: For no good reason, I made a Greek meal for my family (Paul, my parents, my 96-year-old grandfather, my sisters and their partners) and then Paul, Ellie, Lizzi the pug, and I drove back to St. Louis from Northwest Indiana. Exhausting. So Paul and I capped off the evening with a nasty, meaningless argument.

Today: It was cold and rainy and Ellie and I stayed inside for much of the day and napped together in my big, warm bed this afternoon. I didn't get anything productive accomplished, except for some Christmas decorating.

Tomorrow: Tuesdays are busy with my Bible study and Ellie's Physical Therapy. I might go to a mommy/baby happy hour with some acquaintances, or I might stay home and try to get through one of my critical to-do piles. Maybe I'll even write a little. The sky's the limit.

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Via frog, the most interesting (and, sadly, coincidently, only) combination of Christian, feminist, lesbian, and bibliophile I've ever met. Er, if you count knowing someone online for 4 or 5 years meeting. I do.

The Funnest Game in the World

"Uh oh! Ellie's got mommy's glasses! Will you give them to me? Give them to me? Give them to me!"

This is the best game ever because it's the first game Ellie's invented and really really loves. I mean, she's played peekaboo for months and she'll gamely clap along with pattycake, but I always get the feeling that she's humoring me. This game is clearly her favorite thing in the world to do other than biting (she's teething, ouch ouch).

Whenever a four-eyed face comes into her general vicinity, she gets a very deliberate look on her face and then her little hand darts out as quickly as a striking viper and before you can blink your glasses are in her hand and she's watching you for your reaction. Now it's your turn. With the proper singsong inflection, you're supposed to say the above line.

And now it's her turn again. She's knows "give it to me." She understands it. She even knows how to release intentionally (a surprisingly complex skill). So you watch her and wait for her to make the next move. And she either smiles and drops the glasses into your outstretched hand or she grins and swivels away from you as fast as she can. That girl can spin on her tushie faster than I could on a sit-n-spin.

The best part about this game, surprisingly, is not the perpetually smeary lenses. It's the pure delight she gets from playing it. She gets that this is a game. She's directing it. It's predictable (from us) and she's running the show. Which is, apparently, absolutely hilarious.

Sorry, World

Have you all seen the Sorry Everybody site? Some of the pictures are funny. Others are really creative. Or cute. Or heartbreaking (check out the Evanston woman and the Marine on P.10).

I submitted a picture of Ellie in her donkey suit, but I can't find it. If you see it, please let me know what page she's on!

Ellie Rocks!

Lest anyone begin to think that I'm being too serious, I'll share another adorable picture of Ellie. She's had an amazing week, with new teeth, pulling to stand, horn-playing, and truly lovely babbling. Here are Ellie and Lizzi preparing for an evening walk.

Orson Scott Card Goes Off the Deep End

Orson Scott Card has an essay on his site (Emotions, the Draft, UnBush, Black Voters, and Local Candidates) that I'd like to respond to. I enjoy Card's fiction. I have listened to him speak and enjoyed him there, too. Frankly, I was surprised to see him making such weak arguments here.

Point 1: "All the networks" agree not to show footage of the World Trade Center collapse because it will "enflame emotions". Yet some networks are willing to enflame emotions by naming or humanizing the soldiers who have died in Iraq. "We Americans can't be allowed to see footage that would inflame our emotions in support of the war. But anything that might inflame emotions against the war is the networks' civic duty to run."

Response:
We have all seen footage of the World Trade Center collapse, over and over and over. I'm sure I've seen it hundreds of times. Eventually, hundreds and thousands of survivors, family members of victims, and other traumatized Americans petitioned the networks to stop showing video of their loved ones being killed over and over again. This is a vastly different situation than one in which the government decides that the American public shall not be allowed to see coffins coming home from war, or hear the names of fallen soldiers read aloud. We have always honored those who sacrifice their lives for our country in this way. No one wants to see bloody footage of soldiers dying, but silence greeting our fallen trivializes their sacrifice.

Point 2: "Of course, the stupid answer to what I just said is, 'Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11. Therefore footage of 9/11 has nothing to do with this war.'"

Response:
It's far more "stupid" to conflate the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. It's ridiculous to assert that the war in Iraq (a preemptive strike without adequate planning) has made the world safer from terrorism. Iraq was run by an evil dictator, as are far too many countries on this earth. Sadaam was no friend to al Queda, and the terrorists had no home in Iraq. Terrorist attacks have sharply increased across the globe since the war in Iraq began. Terrorists are not "reduced to murdering Iraqi soldiers" exclusively by any stretch of the imagination.

Point 3: "If Kerry wins, the insurgents and foreign terrorists in Iraq will be vastly encouraged. In fact, Kerry's campaign has been one long promise of hope to the embattled terrorist movement within Islam. They firmly believe that if they can just keep up the pressure, the American Left will deliver them a victory just as forty years ago the American Left delivered the North Vietnamese a victory that they could not win on the battlefield."


Response:
Obviously, Card wrote this one before watching the recent bin Laden tape. Global support for a new American administration is what Islamic terrorists want? This one is so far out there and is such complete conjecture – unsupported by any facts whatsoever – that it's hard to know where to begin. And I'd be interested in seeing a version of history that blames Vietnam on "the American Left" by actual historians. Being an armchair revisionist historian is perhaps a danger of writing too much fiction.

Point 4: "Neither the administration nor the military is asking for more troops."

Response:
Military officials have repeatedly said that they do not have and have not had enough troops to do the job in Iraq. But Card is right that Bush is not planning to send more troops.

Point 5: "Kerry's election will be interpreted by everyone in the world as meaning that the American people no longer have the will to fight until our enemies are defeated."

Response:
This would certainly be an odd interpretation considering Kerry's repeated assertion that he is committed to "hunting down" and "killing" terrorists. Following that bizarre assertion was some blather about how Kerry keeps his plans top secret, insinuating that he doesn't really have plans. It's true that Kerry's plans, like most good foreign and domestic policy, doesn't fit well into 30-second sound bites. If Card had clicked on over to Kerry's website, he could have read at great length about Kerry's plans for fighting the war on terror.

I've got to stop now, but I encourage you all to read on. The essay is funny when Card talks about how Democrats are going to steal the election (especially given the actual result, where only in places where there was receipt-free e-voting were the exit polls substantially off-target). It gets pretty good when Card explains why African-American voters are just too stupid to realize that the Republican party is really the party with their best interests at heart. Then he devolves into a discussion of local politics, wherein he prefers a candidate to be "inept and ineffective". What a patriot.

I Want Change

1) Accountability for political advertisements (These are good suggestions).
2) Stop running to the center. Run on what really you believe.

In short – I want honesty in politics.

Bush address during election returns

Someone who knows things, please blog about this.

My questions:
1) Is it really illegal for an incumbant President to use air time while the polls are open to make a political statement?
2) What was Bush planning to say?
3) Why didn't he say it? Or if it was on tape, why didn't the news organizations play the tape?
4) Why is no one talking about this?

Birthday, Beautiful, and Patriotic

That's it. I'm doing NaNoWriMo this month, so things might be quiet here. You can go read my "novel" if you really want to lose all respect for me. Or you can just come by here from time to time to look at these adorable pictures of my kid.

"I'm a Christian"

Nearly everyone I know is Christian, Jewish, or very anti-organized religion. The Christians are mainstream/line Protestants, evangelical Protestants, or Roman Catholics - many of whom don't realize that the word "Christian" applies to Catholics.

The Catholics might be onto something here. I've begun to hate the word "Christian". When someone describes him- or herself that way, I'm immediately turned off. I make assumptions: Evangelical! Conservative! Judgemental! And, yes, I note the irony here.

There are 50 million mainline Protestants in the U.S., 65 million Catholics, and 40 million evangelicals. Evangelical denominations are the only Christian denominations that are showing any real growth lately. I don't know if there's anything I can do about that scary trend, or about Americans' related need to see everything in very simple black-and-white. I hope that I can do something about the fact that "Christian" is starting to sound like a dirty word. (And researching the figures in this paragraph was incredibly depressing.)

I hope I can help remind people that 50 million of us are like this. We can see shades of gray. We value context. We don't blindly follow our leaders. We don't vote en mass.

I'm thinking of doing that November Blogger novel thing.

Toys

Ellie turned one a couple of weeks ago. Wow! Her birthday celebration is in three parts, the last of which is this weekend, and I still haven't bought her a present. Last week I tried shopping at Target but didn't find anything appealing. Today we went to Toys R Us, for the first time ever (for either of us). That place seriously sucks. First I thought I'd get her The Radio Flyer Classic Walker Wagon, but the only walker toys they had were brightly colored, light-weight, plastic monstrosities. Then I thought I'd get her a baby computer keyboard but they didn't have anything like that, either. So I decided to just look around for some quality wooden toys but they didn't have anything wooden except for a couple of puzzles, which she already owns. Sigh. I left with a few classic board books and a Thomas The Tank Engine train that's a little too old for her. Very frustrating.

When my sisters and I were little, we had this great Creative Playthings indoor slide/playhouse thing. It wasn't too big - it fit in a corner of the dining room - and it was wooden so it was both quality construction and attractive. (It turns out that it was also deadly because of a slight gap where some enterprising toddler once jammed his head between the top rung of the ladder and the slide platform, but that's easily remedied.) I have looked and looked but I can't find anything like that anywhere anymore.

I hate brightly colorful plastic.

Prideful Ignorance

Do you remember, in elementary school, when it was the worst shame imaginable to be called upon when you didn't know the answer, barring only the prospect of blanking out while standing in front of the class during the highly competitive "blackboard races" teachers were fond of officiating during rainy recess periods?

Then, sometime in junior high or high school, there was suddenly this kid who could make not knowing the answer look cool. It was like he just didn't care enough to try, and of course not caring is the the very height of coolness. This attitude caught on like wildfire, and pretty soon it was absolutely uncool to "be smart", which really just meant having some vague idea of what was going on in the classroom.

During the 2000 presidential campaign, Governor Bush proved that he is, indeed, schoolboy cool. Waaaay cooler, in fact, than his smartypants "liberal intellectual" opponent. Bush didn't seem the slightest bit ashamed when he demonstrated an appalling lack of basic knowledge about foreign leaders and the locations of foreign countries, let alone understanding of foreign policy. Meanwhile, Vice President Gore was chided for throwing around "too many facts and figures" and using "fuzzy math" in the debates. Bear with me for a moment while I build up to one reason, I think, why Conservative and Ignorance walk proudly hand-in-hand lately.

First you have Catholicism, where laypeople have not always been encouraged to read the Bible themselves; priests interpret The Word of God for the masses. Indeed, Catholics go through intercessary priests to be granted absolution for their sins.

Then Protestants come along. Protestants are encouraged to read along and even study the Bible on their own, coming to church to hear interpretative sermons by educated ministers who have taken classes on exegesis as context for their own faith experiences. Protestants are encouraged to confess their sins directly to God, cutting out one important layer of the priestly middle-man.

Finally you have the evangelical Christians. There's a feeling here that every man's reading of the scripture and communication with the Lord is as valid as any other man's. Pastors rarely have (graduate) seminary degrees and sometimes don't even have bachelor's degrees. Religious scholars and theologians are ridiculed. It's not the book-smarts that matter; it's all about the Spirit, baby. The evangelical Christians' stronghold in the Republican party is contributing to the culture of prideful ignorance.

Plus, it's easier to be ignorant.

And keeping things the same is pretty much what "conservative" means, anyway.

As President Clinton said on The Daily Show in August, "When people think, [Democrats] win."

A Day In My Life

Or, what do you do as a stay at home mom, anyway?

2:30 a.m. I'm finished reading blogs and am finally ready for bed. Ellie wakes up. I change her diaper and wet pajamas and nurse her, then put her in her crib. She starts to cry. Paul wakes up, doesn't realize that I haven't gone to bed yet because I'm an idiot, and goes to rock her back to sleep. (She usually sleeps through the night so this doesn't happen more than once or twice a week.)

6:30 a.m. Ellie wakes up again. Paul gets up, changes her diaper, and feeds her cereal and juice then comes to get me. I get up and nurse Ellie while Paul gets ready for work. She falls asleep shortly after he leaves, around 8:00) and I put her in her crib. (This nap is unusual and is related to the previous night's interrupted sleep.) I take advantage of a few minutes more sleep, after getting myself dressed for the day.

9:00 a.m. Ellie wakes up again. I change her diaper, dress her, and nurse her. We play on the floor in the family room for several minutes. Our repertoire includes classics like "trotty horse" as well as disguised therapy exercises like holding a hands and knees position while I sing "row row row your boat." She seems sleepy so I try rocking her and singing. That doesn't work so we go for a walk around the block with the dog. That doesn't work so we try rocking and singing again. Success! Ellie goes down for her usual (hah! I wish!) morning nap around 10:30. She seems to want to be left alone to fall asleep (this happens from time to time) but she fusses a bit so I sit down to check my email etc. while I wait for her to fall asleep. Then I hit the sack myself. I was up until 3:00, remember?

11:30 a.m. Ellie wakes up, but she still seems sleepy. I change her diaper, then we go watch Sesame Street for the first time ever. She loves it! (for about 15 minutes). We cuddle and play with toys on the floor in the family room for a bit.

12:00 p.m. I get lunch together. Ellie has leftover homemade macaroni and cheese, apple, and white grape juice. I have leftover BBQ pork. And a cookie. After lunch, Ellie nurses again.

1:30 p.m. More playing on the floor, this time in the front room with different toys. I put Ellie on her riding toy and try to get her to push forward.

2:30 p.m. She seems tired again, and this is a good time for an afternoon nap. I try nursing her down. No luck. I try rocking and singing. Very frustrating. It's raining so no walking. I put her in her crib with a couple of toys and go check my email again. She falls asleep very quickly. I too take a nap, after taking care of several phone calls and appointment scheduling details, including dickering with the insurance company about how Ellie's pediatrician is not really a specialist, etc.

4:30 p.m. Ellie wakes up. I nurse her, we go outside with the dog and check the mail, then we go play in the front room some more. I make her stand at her activity table for a while. When I get bored (how terrible! I get bored!) I leave her with her toys for a few minutes so I can shop online for her birthday gift and write Paul an email.

5:30 p.m. I go to the kitchen to start on dinner, and bring Ellie with me. She sits on the floor pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard.

6:00 p.m. Daddy's home! Daddy's home! Daddy's home! He plays with Ellie while I finish dinner (the roles are often reversed here) and we all eat together.

7:00 p.m. Daddy gives Ellie a bath then dresses her for bed and I play Nintendo (or mess around on the computer or read).

7:30 p.m. I nurse Ellie down to sleep by 8:00. Hah! Just kidding! Not tonight! Maybe the enchiladas were a bit much, but she fights sleep hard and wakes up screaming after falling asleep several times. Paul and I take turns working at it (rocking, singing, walking, driving) and she finally goes to sleep around 11:00 p.m. (This time the trick was to lay her on the gliding ottoman and gently push her back and forth.) I remember when 11:00 would have felt like a real accomplishment.

This was a very unusual day, in its way, and yet totally normal too. Ellie has therapy 3-5 days a week, so having a day off now and then is a nice break. When we're not having therapists over, we always go out, even if it's just to a playgroup or the library or the grocery. It's quite unusual for the two of us to be home alone together all day. And wonderful, upon occasion. And she really doesn't usually nap this well. Naps are very hit-or-miss around here.

Tomorrow we have a doctor's appointment and Physical Therapy. Wednesday there is Speech Therapy and two playgroups. Thursday is another doctor's appointment, and Friday is Speech Therapy and a playgroup. We also need to go to the grocery store and the library this week. And I need to make a run to CostCo. for toilet paper, and . . .

Ideally, someday I'll start going to bed at a reasonable hour. Then I can get stuff done during the daytime rather than napping. But you know what? I love this time alone after everyone else is asleep. I cherish it. And I love to nap. Now I'm off to bed. Too late, as usual!

Country Music

My first car: The fall of my senior year of college, my father acquired a car for me from a friend of his whose mother could no longer drive. It cost me $250 and was a 1976 Buick Skylark. This thing was big and ugly. My father, who is color-blind, had it repainted (cream) and had a new vinyl roof put on (brown). Before the car even made it down to me, it needed a new radiator. It was much later before I could afford the new springs it needed. Because of the bad suspension, the car rode with the back way low and the front way up high. Very hip. The front bench seat was stuck all the way back, and I had to prop myself up with pillows because of the slant. To top it all off, the car only got two radio stations: Christian talk, and country. That spring I spent a lot of time driving around, trying to procure myself furniture, an apartment, and a job (yes, in that order). I learned to appreciate country music.

Now that I have a car with a functional radio, tape deck, and CD-player, I'd never consider programming in a country music station. But on a long drive in the middle of the night, I love me some country music. I try to forget the fact that much of Nashville supports President Bush. I do this by convincing myself, whenever I hear a song that I enjoy, that "This guy is obviously an exception." Denial is a powerful thing, and this trick works surprisingly well.

Country music is great for long drives in part because you only need to hear the chorus once, then you can sing along for several more minutes. The melodies are simple, the lyrics are predictable, and both are repetitive. I'll confess that I like the really catchy tunes like the one about the "Watermelon Crawl" and the sing-your-heart-out belters like "How Do I Live?"

The other reason country music can be such fun is that sometimes the songs tell great little stories. I don't love the songs that, like pop songs, wail on and on about some lost love or stolen pick-em-up truck, or whatever. I really enjoy the songs that tell a sweet story, and I get all caught up in listening to a story about a farmer and his wife on the porch during an afternoon rainstorm; a father telling his son about the way daddies love their kids; or a husband telling his wife that although he understands that she misses the way she looked at 17, he really loves the way she fills out her jeans now, and, if she hasn't noticed, the kids are asleep. "So . . . you wanna?"

Kisses

This morning, Ellie and I were at the moms' group/play group at Kangaroo Kids and one of my favorite mom/baby pairs (Brigitte and Jordan) were next to us. Ellie and Jordan hadn't seen each other in a couple of months, and they were fascinated by each other. First Jordan was reaching out to touch Ellie's head, then Ellie chewed on Jordan's shoe, then Jordan gently (we're all working on "gently") took Ellie's face in both of his hands and kissed her nose. He turned his head slightly, clearly waiting for a reciprocal kiss. Ellie, who is sparing with her wet, sloppy kisses, obliged. They went back and forth, to great enthusiasm from the watching crowd of mamas, until the babies got too excited and began trying to pummel and bite each other.

This was the most adorable interaction I've ever seen Ellie have with another baby. The best part was that no one said, "Aww, they're making out," or, "Ellie's got a boyfriend," or, "He's robbing the cradle!" (Jordan is 13 months old to Ellie's 11.) All of these sort of comments are so common at our more mainstream parenting groups.

It's so sad. Kids are kids for such a short time. Why do we push them so hard to grow up? Why do parents stuff their baby girls' bikini tops with tennis balls? Or put their toddler girls in hot pants with "cheerleader" written across their diapered bottoms? Why do we tell our crying baby boys to "be a man" and dress our daughters as brides for Halloween? Why are Kim Anderson-style portraits of children behaving like grown-ups so popular?

Let's let kids be kids. And more kisses, please!

God Bless You, Honey

As a first time parent, I have a hard time telling if the way people react to me is typical or is because I have a special child.

Lots and lots and lots of people (read: women) come up to me and tell me what a beautiful daughter I have. I say, "Thank you! I think so too, but of course I'm biased." I like those comments. It was months before I realized that while Ellie is of course especially beautiful, some of the comments might have something to do with the fact that she obviously has Down syndrome. People want to say something supportive, but what to say?! In these situations it's hard to tell how they mean those comments since I don't have much experience with taking other babies to the grocery store/playgroup/voting booth.

Sometimes it's pretty obvious, though. When Paul's parents were here visiting they wanted to eat at Cracker Barrel. After dinner, while they were still chatting, Ellie and I got up to walk around the store and blow off some steam. An old man came up to us, leaned in very close, and said, "God bless you, Honey." I knew what he meant. I probably should have responded, "I feel like God already has."

You know, most of the time I'm not thinking about how hard my life is, with a "special needs" child, so those comments are like a surprise elbow in the ribs as I realize how other people are seeing my daughter, seeing me. Most of the time I'm thinking that I wish she'd nap longer, cut this tooth, or grow out of spitting up. Of course, I'm not in denial so I don't mind talking about Ellie's Downs and I bring it up in context when appropriate. For instance, when we're talking about flu shots for the babies, I might mention how kids with Down syndrome are usually slightly immuno-suppressed so it's great if they can avoid the flu for the their first couple of years. That sort of thing.

In addition to:
Your baby is so beautiful!
What incredible blue eyes/blond hair!
and of course, God bless you, Honey,

I also get a lot of variations on this theme:
See, you're really strong and you're doing a great job with this. I could never handle it, which is why God didn't give me a child like Ellie.

My silent response: Bullshit.

A Family Reunion, part II

It's awfully quiet around here lately.

First, let me say that Paul and I come from similar families with similar values. This was apparent when we were still just e-flirting, before we ever went on a date or spent the night together (and since this was college, the order of those two events is frequently interchangeable). At the Thanksgiving before my January first date with Paul, my dad asked me if I was dating anyone at school and I told him that there was this guy . . . but I didn't know if he was interested . . . and I wasn't sure it was what I wanted right then since it was going to be impossible for us to ever date casually. I was right; we were practically married from our first date on.

Anyway, despite the similarities in our families and in our upbringing, there are so many ways that our families are different, and those are more fun to ponder. Don't get me wrong, I love it that our parents are good enough friends that they will travel across the country to visit each other. But there are a lot of ways they are just not the same.

The weekend before my mother's family reunion (below) Paul, Ellie, and I traveled to Iowa for his mother's family reunion. Two August family reunions in the Midwest, could they have been any more different?

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At my family reunion, we grocery shopped and prepared all of our own food because fast food and chain restaurants are just not an option.

At Paul's family reunion we ate at Applebee's every day because people liked it so much.

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My uncle was nearly apoplectic when my 26-year-old cousin had a beer with dinner rather than wine.

Paul's cousin only had beer at his recent wedding because "[he doesn't] know anyone who drinks that fancy-pants stuff."

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In Wisconsin we spent hours discussing politics, religion, current events, and processing interactions and events from 40 years ago.

In Iowa we didn't discuss any of those things. We talked about marriage and babies and logistics for the next time we'll all get together. Eventually we had to address the elephant in the middle of the living room – a horrible situation that's been going on for a couple of years involving one sister embezzling all of their parents money and putting "the folks" in a nursing home, possibly prematurely. Finally it became impossible to ignore.

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It's really interesting for me to observe (and participate in!) both families and see the way the familial differences play out between Paul and me in our own relationship.

Babies Sleep Funny

This morning Ellie fell fast asleep on my shoulder. I carried her, a limp sack of potatoes, to her bedroom and put her in her crib. As soon as she hit the mattress she rolled onto her left side and stuck her legs straight out in front of her, perfectly stiff, still asleep.

I went immediately to my bed and tried the same pose. Lying on my side, legs stiff and stuck out at 90* from the rest of my body. A good hamstring stretch, but not a comfortable way to sleep.

I also don't wake up in the night to find myself lying on my stomach with all my legs and arms tucked underneath me, bum high in the air.

Nor do I sleep in the center of my bed, spread eagle. Or splayed out like a frog (with no hip joints). Or twisted in the middle with my neck cocked at an awkward angle and my legs sticking out between the crib bars. And I simply can't make my body do one of Ellie's current favorite positions: flat on my belly with one foot up by my face.

I do sometimes stick one arm straight up in the air, but I'm usually half awake when I do that. What can I say; it's comfortable. So I guess I can't be too critical of babies.

No Child Left Behind – Except Mine

An Open Letter to President Bush and Senator Kerry

President Bush and Senator Kerry,

You both support the No Child Left Behind education act, and there is a critical problem with the implementation of NCLB related to students with special needs that requires an urgent response.

Under NCLB, a percentage of all students must prove grade-level proficiency via standardized tests in certain core subjects, regardless of ethnicity, gender, socio-economic status, or disability. If any one student group (e.g. students with special needs) fails to prove proficiency on any one of 40 tested criteria, the whole school fails to show "adequate yearly progress" and will be penalized. 100% student proficiency is demanded by 2014.

The federal Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) regulates education for students with special needs. Every student with a diagnosed disability or delay has an Individual Education Plan, specifying appropriate educational goals for that student.

NCLB and IDEA are meant to be complimentary pieces of legislation. However, the two federal regulations, as they are interpreted by many states across the nation, are at loggerheads. Students with developmental delays are being tested on material they have not been taught and might be incapable of mastering at an age-appropriate level. Students of normal intelligence with learning disabilities (e.g. dyslexia) who require extra time or other considerations to complete their work are not being granted exceptions. And schools are being penalized for their high failure rates.

This is a very important problem and it needs to be addressed immediately. Federal clarification and oversight are necessary to insure that the students who need the most help are getting it. Blind adherence to standardized tests for all students is serving to exclude those students for whom primary and secondary education is most critical.

Let's not leave more of our children behind.

Sincerely,
Sarahlynn
Kirkwood, MO

No Child Left Behind - Except Mine (draft 1)

President Bush is pleased as punch about his "No Child Left Behind" education act. Senator Kerry says that he supports the NCLBA - with a few modifications. Nothing on his website suggests that students with disabilities fall into his category for needed modifications. This was originally to be an open letter to both Kerry and Bush letting them know my most pressing concern about NCLB, but it seems that I'm not yet calm enough to write a cogent letter.

Under No Child Left Behind, a certain percentage of all students (regardless of sex, race, ethnicity, socio-economic status, or disability must pass standardized tests in order for the school to keep its federal funding. Well, duh. Obviously this pressures schools to divest themselves of students who aren't performing up to grade level.

Each student with a diagnosed disability has a federally required Individual Education Plan (IEP) with realistic goals for that child given her or his special needs. Two federal mandates are clashing here.

Regardless of a child's special needs, regardless of what the IEP specifies as appropriate target educational goals for each student, all students are tested equally under No Child Left Behind. And if kids with special needs aren't passing, then the school is assessed serious penalties.

Hello?!! Why aren't people talking about this? Why aren't people enraged? We don't like to think about disabled kids. Well, wake up, people! This could be your child. We're not just talking about poor black babies from elsewhere who were born addicted to crack. We're also talking about very intelligent white kids from the suburbs who have dyslexia or some other learning disability and require extended time for standardized tests. And we're talking about kids with Down syndrome, like my Ellie. This is not something that we can ignore. This is something we have to address - now - before more children get left behind.

The students who need the most help are the ones being pushed toward the door, and that is simply not right.

Read This

When asked if they want to have a boy or a girl, "good" people respond, "I don't care, as long as the baby is healthy." You've read it here first: I am not good people. When asked that same question, I would laugh and respond, "I don't care, as long as he loves to read." Or, "I don't care, as long as she's smart." I was being light-hearted, but I really couldn't imagine having a child that was so different from me. How could I love a child who wasn't passionate about reading? How could I relate to a child who struggled terribly in school? Fear of the unknown is a very powerful thing.

It turns out that, shockingly enough, just like everybody says, you love your child anyway. Well, I do, anyway. Besides, she loves books. And I think she's a freaking genius, in her own way. But before she's born, before you know her, before you love her, when you learn that she's not going to be exactly as you'd hoped and dreamed that she would be, there's fear. Icy, gut-twisting, the-world-looks-too-bright-and-still-today fear.

When we first learned about Ellie's diagnoses, our genetics counselor (the very same one who had earlier counseled us to relax because we have nothing to worry about, a very nice young woman who seems to be in the wrong profession) tracked us down to recommend a book. She says that she always recommends Choosing Naia to families "in your position." Obediently I went out and bought the book. It sucks. Granted, I had a pretty emotional response to it, and it's not all the book's fault. But I'm about to write my first ever scathing review and I hope I don't get sued for it. On the surface, it sounded perfect. Hey, here's a book about a well-educated, intelligent, career-driven, progressive, pro-choice couple expecting their first baby. They find out that the baby has Down syndrome and a serious heart defect. They must come to terms with this and decide whether or not to terminate the pregnancy. Hey! Just like me!

This book is poorly written and incredibly depressing. I was frustrated by the very short, simple sentences that made the book choppy and awkward to read. Halfway through, I had an epiphany: Hey! This author, he must have Down syndrome! This is a young man with Down syndrome telling this story in a direct, simple fashion. Actually, this book is really well written! Awesome! I should have left well-enough alone, but instead I looked up the author (have you noticed that I can't even use his name while I'm dissing him?). It turns out that not only does he not have Down syndrome, he's an award-winning journalist. Oops. Well, I guess the short, simple sentences are a bad habit from newspaper writing, then. Anyway, the book reads kind of like an 8th grade essay.

Plus, it's incredibly depressing. Filling in background on what it means to have Down syndrome, the author (oh, OK, Mitchell Zuckoff) introduces another character, a "high-functioning" young woman with Down syndrome, as a best-case scenario. She lives semi-independently but will never be completely independent. She's really lonely because she functions at a level above most folks with Down syndrome but slightly below most typical adults. She doesn't date. She doesn't have many friends. She has a hard time finding a job. Cheers!

When I first met Ellie's awesome, wonderful, amazing, gift-from-God pediatrician, she recommended Expecting Adam instead. Wow! Well-written! Not sappy! Honest! Fun to read! I loved it so much that I selected it when it was my turn to choose a book for my bookclub recently. The women in my bookclub loved it so much that they in turn bought it for their friends and family. And none of them know anyone with Down syndrome (except for Ellie, of course). Expecting Adam is about two Harvard PhD students who learn that their second child will have Down syndrome, but it's told in such a refreshing way that it's fun to read. I don't buy it all, and I have two criticisms: Beck is harsh on Harvard, but it's not really Harvard that she's railing against for much of the book; it's actually her family. Also, I just can't quite believe all of the supernatural stuff, though some of it rings very true for me.

Anyway, if you want to read up on a this surprisingly compelling topic, there's a second book I want to recommend. This one is incredible; I just loved this book. It's about yet another couple with PhDs who have a baby with Down syndrome, but this book is a bit different. There's certainly an aspect of personal essay to the book, which is a big part of why it's so fun to read, but it's also a political argument, an academic work. And it is work to read this book, but work that makes you feel like you've exercised your brain a little bit and now it's idling at a slightly higher pace. Read Life As We Know It: A Father, A Family, and an Exceptional Child; you'll love it. And while you're on Berube's site, check out his blog.