...And in the air, the fireflies, our only light in paradise. We'll show the world that they were wrong, and teach them all to sing along; singing Amen I, I'm alive. Amen I, I'm alive...

- Nickelback, If Everyone Cared

For All The Right Reasons Album

And I'm singing Aaa-ayyy-men, I'm alive!

William Leonidas November 12th, 2009
My only regret is that I cried so many tears while I waited for you.

"...I'll try ~ but it's so hard to believe. I'll try ~ but I can't see what you see. I'll try and try to understand the distance between the love I feel ~ the thing I fear ~ and every single dream. I can finally see it. Now I have to believe all those precious stories. All the world is made of faith ~ and trust ~ and pixie dust. So I'll try ~ because I finally believe. I'll try ~ because I can see what you see. I'll try, I'll try ~ to fly..."

Jonatha Brooke "I'll try"

Fear thou not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God; I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. Isaiah 41:10

Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you..." Jeremiah 1:4-5

For Thou didst form my inward parts; Thou didst weave me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to Thee for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; wonderful are Thy works, and my soul knows it very well. Psalms 139:13-14

Monday March 5th, 2010

So Why Stinkerie?

It's simple, really. It's the first thing I whispered against my newborn little Dumpling's temple as I held him alone for that very first time. "There's my Little Stinkerie." And all was right with the world as I brushed my lips across his delicate dewy soft newborn-pink skin and sniffed at his sparse smattering of downy soft hair. Corny and sappy, huh? I can't help it when describing my new Little Puppy. But don't get used to it - I have been told I am "irreverent."

Anyway, it just came out and he's been Stinkerie ever since. As well as Stink Pie, Stink Pot, Stinkey Pete, Little Stinks, Stinks, Puppy, Ducky, Baby, Baby Head, Baby Head Jenkins, Jack, Jack-Jack, Jackie Boy, Jax, Snork, Snorkis, Snorkle, Billy Boy, Billy Bob, Bobby Sue, Billy-Joe-Jim-Bob, Will, Willie, Willister, and the name given by my mentor turned friend Beth - Snake. When I write to her I call him either The Snakester or Slither! And of course, Dumpling, because he is my Little Dumpling - warm and soft and comforting. It's alright to combine comfort food with baby names, right? Have you ever watched the movie Where the Heart Is? If you have, you'll know why I mention this in my defense!

Long story short, you're likely to encounter any one or more of these names in a single post. Because I can. It's my blog!

Something to Consider

Bad decisions make good stories.

Something to Think About

With any pregnancy, there are concerns. With any child, there are worries. When you have a diagnosis of Down syndrome, you know what to worry about. You know what to look for. You have a plan of action. With your typical child, there is no limit to the things that can 'go wrong' or 'happen.' There's no place to focus your worry and concerns. 'IT' will always be out there, waiting. You'll always be on guard. Even when the child is 55 and has grandchildren. With Down syndrome we have a battle plan. With Down syndrome, there is a finite number of things that can go awry. With a typical child, there's isn't. It's a crap shoot. I'm sticking with the Ds and taking the other two back to the hospital for a refund.

Head Above Water

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Saturday, July 11, 2009

Primer, Spackle, Paint and Goobers

Today we bought Spackle for the holes in the soon-to-be nursery walls and two gallons of primer. It's a small room, really, and two gallons of primer might be a bit much, but that pepto-pink really is quite the eye sore. We bought tarps and brushes and rollers and trays and masking tape and stirrers and sand paper. I also bought two gallons of a lovely calming light sage green paint. It will go beautifully with the Winnie The Pooh theme I am planning for the nursery. I have often heard that babies with developmental delays require bright surroundings and heaps of stimulation of all kinds. But...since The Newest is going to have The Youngest, Soon-To-Be-Middle for a sibling and therefor a constant barrage of stimulation, I have decided that a nice calming sanctuary is going to be required for his nursery. Then we hauled all of our treasures home and took naps! Well, I took a nap. Susie took care of The Littles.

Later in the day I took apart the daybed while Susie struggled the eight file cabinets of scrap booking supplies out to the garage. Then she hauled the daybed out in pieces. And the broken TV. And the entertainment center. And about 50 boxes of books and dishes and linens we no longer have beds to fit and all manner of junk that I hadn't realised our lives would be so destitute without, had I not kept all that crap!

Then Susie vacuumed the faux wood floor that I abhor while I Spackle the nail holes. I have since decided against re-plastering. We are on a time crunch and I frankly cannot tolerate the smell of plaster dust at the moment, and well, asking Susie to plaster and sand that whole room is pretty much beyond the realm of 'helper.' Until The Beloved has gotten his feelings and worries in check, I do not want to ask him to participate. His head might literally explode if I add anything to it. Any project he takes on will be completed to perfection. I know this from our two plus decades together. If I ask him to re-plaster, he will go the extra mile and remove all the drywall and start fresh, with a proper tape job and plaster. Our first home was fifty years plus old. I longed for the smoothness that he brought about when he ripped out the drywall and re-taped and plastered the living room in that old house. If only I could ask him to...no, no, no...bad idea right now, and I am too impatient to wait until it will be a good idea. Besides, I have a sneaking hunch this time around that Baby Dear is going to come sooner, rather than later.

I'm pretty sure that two gallons of primer and two gallons of paint will soften the rough spots. Besides, the Baby isn't going to be licking the walls! Although...there are some spots rough enough, that if we leave them rough, we could Velcro the Baby's diaper and stick him to the spots! Nah...probably won't exactly qualify as childcare. But I'm sure he'd still be there when we got back! I scraped the bright neon pink spray paint off the mirrored closet doors (who the heck let's their kid spray paint their mirrored closet doors any color? Those danged things are expensive!) and Susie took them down and hauled them out. We semi-demo the closet which has some horrid wire mesh cubes ceiling to floor, which had been useful in their time but wouldn't be practical for a baby's closet. That involved scissors, pliers, screw drivers, hammers, a lot of knuckle scraping and a surprising amount of cussing. On my part. Susie wouldn't cuss in my presence if I whacked her with the hammer. Which I did. By accident. Twice.

And once on purpose. No not really!

So, the kids aren't quite comfortable calling the Baby 'It' any longer, now that we know he is a 'He.' Since The Oldest is a great fan of the hero in the movie Titanic, we jokingly start calling the Baby Jack. Then The Youngest, Might-As-Well-Start-Calling-Him-The-Middle decides that we should call him Jack-Jack from Jack Jack Attack of The Incredibles. And they do. Both of them. This is the day it happened. The day my sweet, precious, unaware he's been branded, innocent little baby got the family name he will likely have forever. Jack-Jack. Danged kids. Both of The Littles are a couple of Goobers! Goobers!

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