In my family, for the most part, we know what we will be receiving for Christmas. It's just easier that way. Everyone gets what they want. No one wastes their money. We don't have to feign loving gifts that we just don't dig and then figure out what to do with them. And we don't have to fight the after Christmas traffic to return unwanted or unneeded gifts. We like it this way. Now, admittedly it takes away the element of surprise for the giver and the receiver but we have learned through the years that, eh, that's a small price to pay. This year, however, I got a fun little surprise. But first I must give a little back story. . .

A couple weeks ago I had another "what has happened to my life" moment. My cousin has opened a new boutique. She is a fashionista of sorts. Very hip and stylish and wears designers I only read about. She recently opened her own boutique, called Max and Prissy. Needing some fresh air and desperate to get out of the house I decided to go check out her new store. There was a time when I would not leave the house without at least applying a little lip gloss and mascara but not anymore. I went up to visit my cousin's store in all my ragged glory - no makeup, hair disheveled, with all the boys - Timothy had dried blood running down his nose from banging it on the bed frame earlier and Wil had dried up yogurt on his face because he has an everlovinfit if I try to wipe it off and that day it just wasn't in me. And Luke was with me too, filthy cowboy boots and all. So here I go traipsing into this cool boutique with its hip sofa's, chair's and clothing displays. There is my cousin - looking all cutting edge along with her manager, also looking very cute and stylish. Now, I try to maintain some level of style but really I felt pretty darn UNHIP! And old. And wrinkly. And outdated. And boring.

So we descended on her store and I noted how very out of touch with up to date fashion I have become. I tried on a couple of cute pieces including a darling coat that I could not justify purchasing. Not only was it not within our budget but it wasn't practical for this mom of three small boys who just doesn't get out that much. I mean really, where would I wear such a cool, tweed, knee length coat? But it's fun to look right? So I replaced the clothes, peeled Luke off the floor where he had found a place to color, and loaded them back in my oh-so-cool minivan and declared myself officially "last season" as we headed home.

But first I got a Starbucks. At least I can have a Starbucks. As we drove home I looked in the rear view mirror at the boys laughing at each other and decided that I would take all my drabness for the madness that is my life. I don't think that being a mom means you have to give up on all the great styles that are out there but for me they have surely been redefined.

And my fun, surprise gift? The cool, tweed, knee length coat. I just love it. It was a gift from my mom, dad, and aunt Susan. Thanks you guys for keeping me hip and happeinin'!

Here is a picture of the coat. It surely doesn't do it justice. But Leah, I knew you would ask. :)and for those of you who are really bored and want a good look at the detail here are a couple more pics.
So if you are ever traveling through Columbia on I-20 make sure you get off on Clemson and visit Max and Prissy.

Karen Gaffney is an inspiration to many in the Down syndrome community but I think you will be inspired by her too. The Today Show did a great job of highlighting one of her latest accomplishments as well as communicating the importance of changing the way the medical community and society as a whole view people with Down syndrome.

MyHeritage: Family tree - Genealogy - Celeb - Collage - Morph

MyHeritage: Celebrity Collage - Vintage photographs

MyHeritage: Family trees - Genealogy - Celebrities - Collage - Morph

A friend and educator from another state is updating a "new parents packet" that is given out in her community. When she was given this task she was surprised to see that there was not anything to address parents of special needs children or adopted children so she set about to change that. In addition to collecting resources to include she asked that I write a bit about our initial response to Wil's diagnosis. Because I get occasional feedback from new parents of children with Down syndrome I thought I would also share this here.

*Thanks Holli for making a difference for families who don't start off in the typical manner!

By Katy Wheeler
The oldest man in the world with Down's syndrome has died aged 68. Doctors didn't expect Peter Davison to live past 14, but he went on to have a long, healthy life and was even awarded the title of "Oldest man with Down's syndrome living" by Guinness World Records. He died peacefully on December 12 surrounded by friends and family at Barnes Court Nursing Home in Wycliffe Road, High Barnes, Sunderland.

Today his devoted big brother Alf paid tribute to a man who "showed others what people with Down's syndrome could achieve". Alf, 76, said: "Everyone was really proud of Peter. When he was born handicapped children tended to be hidden away, but that was never the case with Peter. "My parents made sure he had his independence, and everyone knew him in the area. He was always smiling and was a proper little character."

Alf cared for Peter at the family home in Midmoor Road, Pallion, for 27 years after the death of their parents, Joe and Della. A keen knitter, rug-maker and puzzle-solver, Peter was always active and attended the Fulwell Training Centre for 40 years. One of Alf's proudest moments was in May when Peter, then aged 67, was recognised by Guinness as the oldest living man with Down's syndrome. He went on to extend the record by 215 days. In the last 12 months Peter's health had deteriorated as he developed dementia and Alf had to do everything for his brother – but he wouldn't have had it any other way. The former driver for the Little Sisters of the Poor said: "I wanted him to stay in the house he knew. He was very intelligent. His speech wasn't very good but I knew exactly what he meant."

On July 31 this year, Peter's health took a turn for the worse and he was admitted to hospital with a urinary blockage. This led to other complications and over the next few weeks he was in and out of temporary respite homes, as his condition was too severe for Alf to look after him. During this time he contracted MRSA and was unable to use his legs. Eventually he was admitted to Barnes Court Nursing Home where he spent h is final few weeks before he died from bronchial pneumonia and a heart attack. Brothers Joseph, 80, Alf and sister Maureen, 71, were by his side. Alf said: "We would visit him every day, so it was some comfort that we were there when he died. He didn't suffer." Neighbour Marie Wood also paid tribute to Peter and says he will be sadly missed in the area. She said: "He was a gorgeous man who was always friendly and smiling. He used to say that my seven-year-old son Jay was his best friend and Jay would make him cards and go round and watch TV with him. He will be a big miss in the neighbourhood." Alf said: "I just want to thank everybody who helped Peter on his last journey: Barnes Court, the Carers' Centre and Doctor Wilderman. All the neighbours have been marvellous as well."

Wil has many signs but only a few spoken words. He can say "Dadee", "Hi", "Ooww", "Mooo", and "Ba" which means bath. His newest word is "Uh oh" and I love his little voice when he says it.

I often have Wil and T hang out in my room in the morning while I am getting ready. I have learned the hard way that it is the only way to keep them out of trouble. They keep themselves busy while I shower and get ready for the day by emptying all bathroom drawers within reach and placing everything in the garden tub, pulling clothes out of drawers, rearranging the shoes in our closet, clearing our bedside tables, removing books from shelves and well, you get the picture. This morning when I got out of the shower I found everything as disastrous as usual with T sitting in the middle of it all but Wil was quiet. After a quick search I found him in the closet. Hiding! He was definitely hiding because when I rounded the corner he looked over and broke out into a big grin and giggled like he had really fooled me. He was also pretty pleased that he had found such a great perch on dad's shoe rack.

At one and the same time I seem to want to communicate to others that our lives, because of Wil's presence, are not any different than anyone elses and our lives are quite a bit different than everyone elses. We strive to advocate for Wil, to remind others that having Down syndrome simply gives him an extra 21st chromosome and that given time he will accomplish many of the things his peers will accomplish. And we do believe that he will. But our lives are different. When I look at how my friends that do not have kids with special needs spend their time or plan their outings I realize, yes our lives are different. I am not complaining. It is our reality and I wouldn't change it. I have been thinking about this reality the last few days though. While certainly not exhaustive, here are a few ways you know you have a child with special needs in your home:

Luke is really growing up. Some days I marvel at how mature he seems for a five year old. He asks such thoughtful questions. He is so helpful around the house. He is so insightful.

With some frequency we are asked when Wil is going to walk. He will be three in March. Most kids with Down syndome are walking by 28 months or so; Wil is definitely considered a "late walker." Our answer, of course, is that we don't know. Admittedly I have days when I wish he were walking. Usually that desire springs from my own aching back than from hopes for him. It's not that I don't want him to walk - I do - it's just that I really do enjoy Wil exactly where he is and I enjoy watching him strive, explore, work, and play as he learns about the world around him.
And here they are testing out the kiddie seesaw.

Timothy has also picked up all of Wil's sign language, which is great, though he is seemingly uninterested in trying out verbal communication. Unless it involves guttural squeals.

Timothy and Wil are great buddies. For now, Wil is being looked up to as big brother. He is being admired by Timothy. He is being mimicked throughout the day, it is really sweet. I know that one day that will stop. I know that one day Timothy will grow into his own skin, he will stop wanting to be like his big brother and Wil's place in the family may shift. One day it is going to be Wil trying to keep up with T, so for now I am going to enjoy the dynamic and the fact that I am getting some forced exercise with 28 lbs in each arm.

Okay, here it is.

What is it you ask? why it is a vase filled with cranberries crammed with woody branches. I made it as a centerpiece for a church function last night. It worked quite well. Is that the best you can come up with for your substitute tree you ask? Yes. Yes it is.

You see, I'm tired. I know. You are tired of hearing me say that I am tired. But it's true all the same. And here we are at the end of another round of rotavirus for Wil. It's been a bad week for him. And he ended with a bang today. He got it all out (do ya know what I mean? he cleared those bowels big time - it musta felt good!) this morning in our front room. I was upstairs changing Timothy's poopy diaper when Luke started screaming ( he is mildly dramatic) that Wil had stinky everywhere. Yup! James got him upstairs to the tub while I finished with T. I then finished up with Wil so James could get to work. I dashed downstairs to gather our things only to find poop everywhere. On the rug, on the sofa, on the books. All discovered as we were loading up to take Luke to pre-school. I couldn't just leave it because that is Wil's "therapy" room and his PT would be arriving shortly after we returned. Fun times. Here is Wil's pitiful self the past few days.

Luke has been keeping himself, and us, entertained by drawing on his socks and providing puppet shows.

And speaking of Luke. He does have some concerns about the "tree." "What if Santa doesn't know what it is?" * "Santa won't know exactly where to leave the presents." * "What if the cranberries go bad?" (good point - I will change those my bright young child) Of course, two days ago Luke came to me and exclaimed, " I don't think that Santa is real." "Oh no?" I say. "No, I just don't think there could be such a person, you know doing all that stuff in one night." "uh, huh, did you talk about that with someone?" I ask "No, I was just thinking it," he shrugged.

Ahhh. . . more good news just came by phone. Our beloved jeep that has been in and out of the shop for the last few weeks must go to the vehicular graveyard. sigh.

So back to the "tree" - yeah - that's the best I can do this year. Sorry kids. :)

Are these curls forming on the head of our third child?
If this is the case he may never receive a haircut. I don't think I can bare to cut them. :)

James and I had hoped to make a day trip to Asheville today. It wasn't meant to be. Again.

My body still feels crummy but my spirits are soaring. We are so proud of this little guy!

Over the years we have made several changes in our home in an effort to keep our guys safe as they grow and explore. Lots of little things like getting rid of the coffee table to avoid losing an eye from slamming into the corner or wrapping rubber bands around kitchen cabinet knobs to make them more difficult to get into (Luke's brilliant idea - and much more effective than all the child proofing gadgets on the market!). Really there is only so much that can be done. And most of the damage over the last few years has not been to the children, it has been to our belongings. We have lost many dishes thanks to both Luke and Wil. (James and I have certainly had our share of mishaps, too) My favorite lamp has been broken and repaired twice. My grandmother's pie crust table, which we had refinished last year has lost all of it's "crust" thanks to Wil and Timothy - they get a big kick out of tipping that thing over! Luke sprayed bleach on a brand new shower curtain and rug. Our books. Well they have seen better days. We are constantly putting the rugs back in place, moving the chairs back to the table (this is the newest fascination - using the kitchen chairs as push toys, works great on the hardwood floors), putting the books back in place, closing the shutters, putting the cd's back in the armoire drawers, and so many other things.

A couple of days ago I posted about the report that came out of Serbia on the conditions and treatment of the mentally disabled in the country's institutions. A fellow mom and blogger, Michelle, of a daughter with Down syndrome has come up with some great ideas for those of us that would like to find ways to help. Here's what she suggests at DownBlogger on ways to help.

We all see and hear of things around us that leave us feeling angry, sad, helpless. Today's report on the "Mental Institutions" in Serbia has left me feeling that way. I am pretty speechless actually. Here is the link from NBC, story.

Washington State Congresswoman Cathy McMorris Rodgers was interviewed by CNN yesterday. The interview was not about policy, elections, or any political controversy. It was about her son Cole, who happens to have Down syndrome. He was born last May and is adorable. To see the brief interview click here.

I hope that we will hear more from Ms. Rodgers and Cole in the months to come!

Luke especially loves a house full of people. The more the better. This group seemed to encourage some very random statements, proverbs if you will, from little Luke around the breakfast table. The crowd favorite, that we all pondered, but left us a little puzzled was, "If you want peace then you must sleep with your hair squared." This was evidently inspired by Ryan's coif.

We so enjoyed the added chaos for the weekend. These guys were such an encouragment to us and left us only slightly homesick for Gainesville. :)

That's what Luke said to me as I was backing out of the garage with everyone in the van while on the cell phone filing a claim with the insurance company for a broken windshield (honestly, having them confined in their seats feels like the only time I can get through a business call). Slam! I ran into the jeep. The jeep which had just returned from the shop. Sigh. The part that bothers me about this is not that I hit the jeep. No harm done to the jeep or van - a few more black scuffs actually makes it easier to identify among the sea of silver vans in the Wal Mart parking lot. No, what really bothers me is how quickly Luke jumped in to emotionally take care of me. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate his sensitivity and love that he is a compassionate little boy. But I do worry that, at five, he is taking on roles he should not. He tells me often that he can't wait for his brothers to walk and talk so they can play with him ( me too, I think ) and does his very best to play on their level. I have been his play mate and companion for some time now and Luke has watched me closely. He has watched me struggle after Wil was born, struggle through Timothy's pregnancy and then his birth, struggle with our recent move and the strain it has caused. I am always aware that he is watching and try to be careful about what I am communicating but I am also aware that Luke picks up far more than I realize. And somewhere in the midst of all this he is feeling like he needs to take care of me. So, this dynamic. Not good. I'm not worried, we'll get it worked out. Just not so bummed I hit the jeep anymore.

Happy Birthday to my Wonderful Dad! A man who has loved and served well his whole live. He has served his country with commitment and honor as a Marine, he has served his community for three decades in law enforcement and now has the often thankless job of keeping kids safe (and in many cases keeping the community safe from the kids) for a local school district. Most importantly, at least to some of us, he has sacrificially loved and served his family with consistency and strength. And now that he has three demanding grandsons down the street he is back in the business of putting together toys, pulling out splinters, and flipping burgers for birthday parties. Not to mention providing handyman services for James and me.

I have kissed and made up with blogspot - this blog - and am sticking with it. The kinks have been worked out and I have too many other things going on to get used to a new blog host and all its funny ways.

Thank you for baring with me as I test drove wordpress.com. I am happy to be back where I am more comfortable here at blogspot.

On the home front I sense another round of doctor visits on the horizon as Timothy can be heard from all corners of the house barking a painful sounding dry cough. Wil has been crying on and off all day for no apparent reason apart from the fact that he has not been sleeping well the last week and is likely fatigued. And Luke just came out of his room and told me "his body feels like it needs medicine." He couldn't point to anything in particular that was bothering him, just a generalized ickiness. So, I am thinking tonight might be the beginning of another round of the sickies.

And on an embarrassing note, yesterday we had some time to spare before church so were enjoying the brisk afternoon air while walking around five-points when Luke started fussing about a rash on his bottom. This happens from time to time. Luke, having very sensitive skin, must be very careful to clean up well after using the restroom otherwise he gets rashy. And being five and all he just doesn't want help in this area any more. On the other hand being five has done very little for his ability to control himself when he is feeling discomfort. So I grabbed W and T's diaper ointment and headed into the Starbucks bathroom to take a look at Luke's bottom. He was indeed red. As I was trying to clean him up he screamed like I was sticking red hot needles in his eyeballs saying, "get that out of my bottom!" Now, I am certain that everyone on the other side of the door could hear us. I try to calm him down by telling him that someone is going to take him away from me if he doesn't stop screaming. Naturally this doesn't help. I tell him to just let me get the ointment on, it will feel better and we can go. He is still crying heavily but agrees. When I apply the ointment he lets out another wail, "it burns, it burns, take it off!" Oh my. We get a few glances when we emerge, most keep their heads down and give a quick look over their books as we scurry out. I don't have to wonder where James is with Timothy and Wil, I just follow Wil's screams.

Church at 5 pm. After "falling back" for daylight savings time, fun times.

I went up to put Wil down for his nap today and this is what I found. Luke’s spiderweb. Of course I couldn’t get Wil to bed without removing the web because much of the string was wrapped around his crib. Luke managed to use an entire ball of string that I have managed to hold onto for years now. He also managed to wrap it around every possible fixed object in their room multiple times. I was going to get the scissors and just slice right through it but some obsessive part of me wanted to keep this ball of string in tact. Sooo, I took Wil back downstairs, delaying his nap, Luke’s quiet time and mine, in order to find the end of the string and weave it in and out and through the web until I had my ball of string back. Luke was awed and amazed when he walked upstairs and saw that once again the string was back in a ball. It is now beyond the reach of five year old fingers.