Lately, I have been a magnet for bizarre, somewhat inappropriate, and most unwelcome comments from total strangers. This week alone I received two such comments.

First, early in the week while out with my three boys, minding my own business, trying to keep them from antagonizing each other and screaming too loudly in public, I noticed a woman watching us. All you moms that have kids with Down syndrome know what I'm talking about. I smiled at her, not yet sure if she was a friend or foe of Ds.

Turns out she wasn't looking at Bean. She was looking at me. And wondering about my age. "Are these your boys?" she asked. I told her yes, to which she replied, "They are so young. You must have started late, huh?"

Uhhh, yes, I guess I did. Thank you very much, perfect stranger, for pointing that out.



And then, this afternoon, walking through the parking lot of the grocery store, again, minding my own business, a man two steps behind me said, "whatchyou so stressed about?"

Looking around, wondering who he was talking to, I raised my eyebrows. Pardon?

He went on, "I said, whatchyou so stressed about. You sure got lotsa gray hair. How'd you get that? What's got you so stressed out?"

Seriously? Seriously? Did this man really just say that to me? I wanted to stop dead in my tracks and tell him what has given me each and every gray hair so I could enjoy his stunned silence and hopefully teach him to keep his thoughts to himself. But instead I chuckled and gave him some inane answer about it either being my boys or genetics.

What is it that makes people say such things to perfect strangers? If you know, please, fill me in.


On the flip side, I have received a very nice compliment recently. I received it right here in the blogosphere. From Cheryl of Ruby's Life.

She bestowed upon me an award. The "lovey award."

What is the lovey award? Here is the description I lifted from her site.

"These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find friends and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. (although it seems a little self-aggrandizing that I am even posting this, no?) Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships will be propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. "

I'm touched, Cheryl! Thanks so much.

I'm supposed to pass this along to others but. . . I am not going to do that. Chain letters always ended with me too.

I will, however, share with you some of the blogs I enjoy reading regularly. Check them out when you have time.

Confessions of a Pioneer Woman - I have been reading Ree's blog for at least two years now. When I found her she received around 3-400 comments a day. Now she receives thousands upon thousands. Check her out and you will see why.

C Jane and NieNie are sisters. They are mormon and speak about their faith often. That is not what I find fascinating. I enjoy C Jane's tongue in cheek writing style and her sister Nie, well, you need to read through her archives to learn her story. It is heartbreaking and hope filled all at the same time.

ivy mae - I know this gal from our years in Florida. She and her husband now live in Charleston, SC. I love reading about all her projects from the kitchen to the garden to sewing and knitting. She writes with wit and throws in great stories about her high school literature students. Oh and her husband, Mr. Mae, is the photographer. Great team.

The Meanest Mom - Great and hysterical take on parenting and mothering.

not that you asked - this is the only blogger on my list that has a child with Down syndrome. (though there are tons out there that I read and enjoy) I like reading Beth because she is thoughtful, honest, and humble. She almost always makes me think. Maybe I like her because some of the things she wrestles with regarding the world of disabiltiy and down syndrome I relate to, and it makes me feel not so alone.

Before the dark cloud of illness descended on our home, bringing hand, foot, mouth disease, croup, ear infection's, pink eye, and bronchial infections, we went to Florida for Spring Break.

Hope you all are having a good Spring!!

It is high time I give you the credit you deserve. Ever since little boys entered my life (and not to single anyone out or anything but especially since a certain 2 year old boy entered my life) you have been there for me in a big way.


When no one else has the answers, when there is no one else to turn to, you are there. And you have the answers. You not only give me the answers but you calm me down and give me step by step instructions to fix what ails me, or my house, as the case may be.


Like the time when I needed to know how to get permanent marker off my kitchen table. You were a wealth of information. You gave me several options to undo the damage my littlest spawn created.


Or like the time when Bean and Tank, led, no doubt, by Tank, tipped over my grandmother's antique pie crust table so many times that it lost almost all of it's "crust." You instructed me, you encouraged me, you taught me about wood glue. Sadly, the tipping continued and the crust came off again. But now I know how to fix it. And I will, when they are grown and out of the house.


Or like the time you gave me tips on getting greasy peanut butter out of the carpet. Tank was very pleased with himself. He was finger painting, you see. Getting the peanut butter off the hardwood floors, door frames, and pantry shelves was a piece of cake. I handled that fine. But the carpet? That was a whole different ball game. But you came to my aid and helped me get the job done.


And then there was today. When moments, and I mean moments, after James and I decided to place our house on the market I wandered into the guest room to find this:

A brand new bottle of Elmer's glue, open, on it's side, and empty, the contents absorbed into the carpet. My first instinct, after I panicked, was to get a wet rag and rub. I should never act on my first instinct. It was a big ole' gloppy mess.

Then, I remembered. My friend the Internet will surely know how to help me. And true to form you were there. You told me not to worry, that it will come up, and gave me only three steps to get the job done.

It took some time. But you did not fail me.

So, thank you dear Internet! Thank you for your consistency and faithfulness and for always being there to keep my home from becoming the disaster it's young residents seem intent on making it.

It's been a good seven years

since I got a good, solid, wake-up-feeling-refreshed night's sleep. Just when I think it might happen, when the boys are tucked in early and all is quiet, when I, too, am settled in at a reasonable hour and already experiencing the bliss of nocturnal goodness, something like this happens. (could i have possibly used more comma's in that last sentence? i am sure they are all misplaced, too. stop your shuttering kim)

Spinner's door opens. He has been asleep a good 4 -5 hours by now. His attempt to be quiet does not work and I wake, though, admittedly, it doesn't take much to wake me.

Bean starts screaming because Spinner woke him leaving the room.

I ignore it all in an attempt to drift back to sleep and hope they will do the same.

Then I realize that Spinner did not exit the bathroom and can see the stream of light coming down the hall. I elbow James and beg him to check on him. I'm thoughtful like that. That's when I heard the crying.

I make my way to the bathroom thinking we had another sick kid on our hands. Thankfully we did not. We just had a sleep deprived, confused, possessed, kid on our hands.

Spinner is standing in the middle of the bathroom crying and crying, head hung, face read, lips wet with drool. James tries to talk with him but is only met with blank stares.

Me: I think he's asleep, James.

James: No, he's not asleep.

Me: Spinner, what's wrong? why are you crying?

Spinner: stares blankly

James: Spinner, you have to talk to us so we know why you are crying. Are you sick?

Spinner: I don't know.

*hugs*

Me: Does something hurt?

Spinner: No.

*hugs*

Me: Did you have an accident in bed?

Spinner: No.

*hugs*

James: Did you have a nightmare?

Spinner: No.

*hugs*

Still crying. . .

Me: Can you tell me what you are feeling, Spinner?

Spinner: Sad.

Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

Me: What is making you sad?

Spinner: I feel sad when you guys send me off places.

What the heck is he talking about?

Me: Are you afraid we're going to send you somewhere?

Spinner: tears still falling, Yes.

Me: Where, Spinner, where are you afraid we will send you?

Spinner: Africa.

Oh, of course. James and I exchange a glance, trying not to laugh.

*more hugs*

Me: Oh honey, I promise we will not send you to Africa. Can we all go back to bed now?

Spinner: wiping his eyes, Okay.

And no, we have no clue what this was about. But then that's not unusual.

Dear Bean,

Today, you are four.

At four, you are eager to learn. You love school and you work very hard. You work as hard as anyone I know. You have pushed yourself since you were a baby, struggling to hold your head up or roll over. To nurse, which was so tough for you, or balance on your therapy ball. Now, at four, you push yourself to walk up the stairs without assistance, to climb the hill at Nonnie and Papa’s. You concentrate on stacking your blocks and you work hard on feeding yourself with a spoon. I'm so proud of you!

At four, you know what you like. Your personality is strong and you let us know how you are feeling. Sometimes through signs. Sometimes through words. At other times it is through your intense laughter, or your intense tears.

You have added some words this year. One of your favorites is “horse.” When asked, you say your name, your age, and sign that you are a boy. You call out “Mama” and Da-dy” when you need something. But the word that we most often hear from you is “Papa.”
At four, your Papa seems to always be on your mind. When we get in the car you ask if we are going to Papa’s. When Nonnie comes by the house, you ask if Papa is with her. If, while out in public, you spot a man with gray hair and a mustache, you call for Papa.

You are playful. You take great joy in your brothers and initiate a wrestling match with them more often than they do you. One of your favorite positions is standing behind Spinner, when he is sitting on the floor, with arms wrapped around his neck, leaning against his back. And always with a big grin on your face. You and Tank struggle sometimes. You guys are either rolling around like puppies, laughing and playing, or pushing, hitting, and screaming at each other.

You love to be outside. You are content to sit in the grass or watch your brothers play in the creek. You love to swing, screaming, “weee” with every push. You love to take rides with Nonnie in the golf cart, snuggling up against her side as she drives you through the pasture to see the horses or up the drive to get the mail. You love to take walks with Daddy around the neighborhood and you know exactly where all the dogs live. Splashing in the pool or playing in the sprinkler is a favorite summertime activity. You stay in until your fingers are soft and wrinkled.

At four, music is your comfort. You love to dance and bob your head to the rhythm of whatever is on. When you are unhappy music will normally cheer you up.

You love “Horton Hears a Who” and laugh out loud over that elephant’s silliness.

You are almost always eager to give out hugs and kisses and you love to cuddle. When you settle in beside dad or me you throw your arms back behind your head. You have done this since you were a baby.

In four short years you have radically changed our lives. You have introduced us to an entirely new world. You have taught us to delight in the small things. You have tenderized us and toughened us at the same time. You have deepened our capacity to love. You have taught us about the really important things in life.

I love being your mom, Bean, and I wish you a very Happy Birthday!!

Wow, it's been a super swell day at the Walden house. And because I don't like my husband to miss out on all the fun, I documented the day to share with him.


This is Tank. Moments after waking. I have Spinner and Bean in the car ready to make the drop off rounds. Tank refuses to comply. With anything. He was angry I removed him from his crib, crying "cwib, cwib, cwib," as I carried him downstairs. He cried for his 'vaffle,' then rejected it the moment he laid eyes on it. I took it back, then he screamed "vaffle, vaffle." And so it went. He refused to walk to the car so I physically wrestled him into his seat in order to avoid tardy slips for his brothers.

In addition to a disdain for being in the car, Bean gets highly upset every single morning when we go straight rather than right at the four way stop outside of our neighborhood. Why? Because going straight does not take us to Papa's and he knows this. And apparently, Papa's is the only place that makes him happy these days.

Once home, Tank sets off playing. While doing so he finds an old sippy cup that went missing weeks ago. He guzzled like he'd had no liquids in a week. Then he projectile vomited the curdled milk he had unwittingly ingested, looking at me like I had betrayed him in the worst way.

Later, while comforting Bean (who would not nap today) in the den, I hear the water running in the upstairs bathroom. I call out to Tank, who is obsessed with brushing his teeth, to turn the water off and come downstairs. I turn back to Bean and moments later find Tank behind me quietly saying, "sour, sour," (shower) while pointing upstairs.

I remove his clothes and deposit him in the den, where I have turned on 'Horton Hears a Who' in an attempt to paralyze his mind so I can clean up his bathroom. He did not, in fact, turn on the shower, but used a cup to pour water from the sink all over himself and the bathroom, amounting to about 1/4 inch of water all over the floor, making its way to the carpeted hall. I used a load's worth of towels to sop it up and returned downstairs.

To find this.

Tank, who did not want his cooked 'vaffle' this morning had retrieved the waffles from the freezer and was eating them from the bag, FROZEN. And he was NAKED. Yes, he removed his diaper. Then urinated on the rug and coffee table. But he was thoughtful and pointed it out to me, saying, "yucky, yucky."

Simultaneously, I was saying "no" to Spinner's request to call friends to come over and play in the rain. This did not make him happy. He let me know.

Then he took a stool onto the front porch to watch out for kids who had nice parents that let them play outside in the rain. Pitiful.

That, was followed by this.

Big tears while discussing the need to get a prescription for eye drops. Seems he has contracted conjunctivitis.

You know what that means. Tank and Bean will be next.

The day has been documented. Not one of them appreciated my bringing out the camera in the midst of their tantrums, but hey, what are mom's for if not to laugh at their kids? Don't worry, I doled out hugs too. I also yelled a little. It was a well balanced day.

And now, weary as I feel, I am laughing and feeling thankful for my spunky, highly spirited boys.