Ethan and Lauren

2008-12-06T10:54:00.000-08:00

Time for a new blog... since it is no longer just Ethan and Lauren. I'm trying to figure out how to move everything over to the other one (any ideas anyone?). I tried moving one post and it got a new date. I wish I was more computer literate.

Anyhoo... here's the link to the new one, which I am calling A Journey of a Lifetime, because it certainly has been.

A Journey of a Lifetime

And the journey continues...

2008-11-30T06:42:00.000-08:00

It's a boy!!!!

It is with tremendous joy and gratitude that our prayers have finally been answered that I'd like to announce the referral of our beautiful baby boy! He was born May 20, 2008 in South Korea. We got the call on October 29th, much to our suprise (I honestly was thinking we wouldn't get a call until late November or December though Mark was convinced all along it would be sometime in October). We plan on naming him David, which means "beloved." His Korean name is Jin Woo, which means "treasure of the house" according to our paperwork. His full name will be David Jin Woo, the beloved treasure of our house. We are over the moon with happiness! I finally feel like we are complete.

2008-10-30T09:04:00.000-07:00

...and then there were three!

2008-10-27T17:32:00.000-07:00

I'm here.

It has been awhile, my poor, neglected blog. I've been so completely consumed with our adoption in any spare time that I have that I haven't had the energy to write. I'm still here though, fully aware of how I've left you, my blog, out to dry so-to-speak.

We started the process (again!) to adopt. Yeah, we're still in the never-ending line for China but are a lot more optimistic about things this time around. I surely hope that doesn't come back to bite me. At any rate, as of January 4th of this year (yes, I've been sitting on this for some time, at least in the blogosphere anyway), we started the process to adopt a baby from South Korea. There was a lot of tension, dancing the "what-if" and "oh, should we?" dance that led up to that decision but it finally came down to a leap of faith. That, and watching a very dear friend get a referral (matched with a baby) from South Korea in less time than it took for us to complete our China dossier (mountain of paperwork that has to be obtained, notarized, certified and authenticated prior to your name being even added to a list of waiting parents).

The feeling of relief that washed over me as soon as we submitted our online initial application to our agency was tremendous, and unanticipated. You see, I've never been the most decisive person. I vacillate back and forth, especially when it comes to major decisions, until my head is about ready to spin and I'm usually still left perplexed as to what to do. I think this my attempt at trying to anticpate every possible outcome so as to avert diaster. Okay, so I have control issues. This was a big one though. A big decision. We're pretty sure this is it for us. 3 kids will likely complete our little family (not-so-little if you ask my husband). To consider that our child maybe would come from somewhere other than China, what I had ingrained in my mind for such a very long time, took a lot of soul-searching, quite a bit of faith and boiling it all down to what fundamentally mattered.

We want a baby. At the end of the day, that is what matters. China, Korea, Timbuktoo, it doesn't really matter. Another little person to love. A baby brother or sister for our kids. More toys at Christmas! I digress...

So, on a wing and a prayer, here we sit. We finished up our homestudy for Korea (infinitely easier, I might add, with a lot more education involved- I actually feel like we are prepared and ready this time around) April 15th and are currently waiting for a referral any day now. Unless the sky falls or something, which could happen of course.

It all just feels right, if that makes any sense at all. Our paperwork is still in China too. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it (i.e. decide what we're doing when our baby from Korea is home). If (we likely will) we pull our dossier from China, it will be when our baby from Korea is home. I know, in my heart, that doing so will feel like a miscarriage to me so I'm trying not to think too hard about that right now.

That's all for now. I'll try not to be so neglectful but no promises.

2008-10-27T08:26:00.000-07:00

2008-04-05T17:02:00.000-07:00

A must read

I've been trying to find time to sit down and write a review worthy of this book amidst the chaos that is my life, the whirlwind that goes along with having small children. It is difficult to find the right words to express the gratitude I feel for Jennifer Graf Groneberg's book.

Shortly after our daughter, Lauren, who has Down Syndrome was born, our pediatrician gave us the name and phone number of a woman who had a 3 year old daughter with Down Syndrome. I waited a couple of months to call her. I was completely entrenched in my own grief and inability to get my hands around my life as it now existed. Then there was the intimidation factor of calling a complete stranger, especially given my state of mind at the time. I finally mustered up the courage to shakily dial the numbers and, choking back tears, introduce myself.

What ensued was a 2 hour conversation during which Andrea, the woman to whom I will be forever grateful, laid it all out there for me. Her own story, the good, the bad and the ugly, unabashed and unfiltered. What she gave me was a gift. It was the gift of forgiveness. What had been eating away at me was my own guilt, in addition to everything else. In telling her story, laying herself bare like that, I felt like I was suddenly not alone, that I wasn't the only person who had felt these things, who had gone through this before. It was a healing kinship.

Road Map to Holland by Jennifer Graf Groneberg is just this sort of gift. In sharing her story, with all the painful, self-incriminating truths, she provides salve for the souls of all of us who have been there before or are going through it now. This book is a quiet hand-holding, a gentle whisper of "I've been there and it's okay." With incredible introspect and a deep spirituality, Jennifer shows us with a sometimes self-deprecating sense of humor and prose-like writing what a journey it was, having premature twins, one of which has Down Syndrome. What emerges is a portrait of love, motherhood and the power of the human spirit.

This was one of those life-changing books for me, of which I can only count a few. I encourage everyone to read it, whether you have had a child with special needs or not. It is a beautiful story in its entirety, a testament that sorrow indeed carves out a greater space for happiness.

2008-03-18T11:43:00.000-07:00

I was shocked to see them. These small emblems of spring. I'd spent some time last fall planting bulbs, my first attempt, only to find them dug up and half-eaten by some vagrant animal poaching on my work. I'd honestly thought they were all gone.

We had a blizzard a week ago. 20 inches of crazy snowfall in the middle of March. It was gone nearly as soon as it came, melting, the only remnants left behind are soggy muck and a few brown snow piles. This kind of dreary weather can certainly damper the spirits. Its stuff like this though, these signs of spring popping up, lending some hope that sunshine and warmer weather is right around the corner that keeps me going.

2008-03-07T11:03:00.000-08:00

2008-01-02T09:12:00.000-08:00

Contemplation

2008-01-02T09:05:00.000-08:00

2007-12-31T11:10:00.000-08:00

Resolve

Okay, so I don't usually do this. I don't make New Year's resolutions. I think you set yourself up for failure when you sit down and write out some list of what you resolve to do in the coming year. There is enough evidence of my shortcomings in my daily life. I needn't look further than the laundry pile, clutter, stack of pictures waiting to be put into some form of organization, extra 10 pounds of "baby weight" that I've never managed to shake, etc. etc. etc. Why, oh why, would I ever make list for myself?

The other problem I have with these so-called resolutions is that, in making them, you forget about all of the unexpecteds that occur in life. Mine is FULL of them. If I ever had a "plan" for what my life would be, I have certainly been steered off course- thankfully so. These diversions to the plan are what keep things interesting, keep us living.

We used to burn them. Yep, that's right, set 'em on fire! My mom, my sister and I and whoever else ventured to join us for New Year's Eve would sit down, make a list of our New Year's "resolutions", put them in an envelope then set fire to them. We never read them to each other, just wrote them out and set fire. I can't quite remember what the significance of the burning was. Maybe it was that we were leaving it up to the universe, our plans, our intentions. Think about them for a minute then let them go, hoping for the best.

At any rate, I'll admit that I do sometimes think about the coming year and what I'd like to happen. I have enough insight into things after having "plans" be derailed, being shifted onto new tracks that are far better than I could ever have dreamt, to know that life is more about the living than the plans.

With that in mind, here I go with some, well, we'll call them hopes- yeah, I like that better- hopes for the new year.

1. Worry less
2. Run a couple of races (stress reliever- helps with #1)
3. Move our 3-year old into a big girl bed because it is just time
4. Stop worrying about time
5. Figure out how do use Photoshop to its full capabilities, as well as my camera- this laissez faire attitude when it comes to owner's manual doesn't always work to one's benefit
6. Schedule more date nights because they are good for our marriage
7. Come to grips with the wait for our referral from China (I don't know how possible this one is but hey, that's why they are called hopes-right?
8. Spend time with our family, extended family and friends. Our lives are so rich and blessed because of them.

Eight sounds like about enough. I made sure not to include the lose 10 pounds thing in there as I think they are here to stay, at least they aren't going anywhere without some painful separation between myself and good food. After two half-marathons, the fact that they haven't left me lends me to believe they just maybe want to be here. Ah- to be in your 30s!

Happy New Year!

2007-12-28T14:01:00.000-08:00

2007-12-28T12:39:00.000-08:00

The Stuff of Dreams

One thing I am certain of is that I was born to be a mom. It is intrinsic to my soul, woven into the framework of every fiber that is me. I used to wish for it, dream about it from a very young age. I'd find something, someone to mother be it my dolls for whom I spent my car washing money or allowance on -real life baby "accessories"- the teething rings, bottles, etc. or my sister whose own mother, mine as well was, while physically there, was often absent, tending to her own issues. Maybe partly attributed to birth order, circumstances in childhood, I believe that fundamentally, it is just me.

Throughout my rocky beginnings, I knew that someday I'd have my own chance for life to be different. Tabula Rosa. A clean slate. I held onto this with the fiercest of grips. A lifeline as I spun through the tumult that was beyond the control of even the most mothering of children.

I wouldn't change it. Somebody told me once that sorrow and pain carve out a greater space for happiness to exist. When you've experienced darkness of any sort, it makes it next to impossible to take the light for granted. My eyes are still adjusting.

I hope they always are.

---------------------

Taking stock. I've done quite a bit this December. We've slowed it down this year, tried to simplify and avoid the pitfalls of previous years' holiday seasons. We're guilty of it too. The mad rush, the overbooked leading to the overlooked spirit of Christmas. I used to have near panic attacks as we got closer and closer to December. I'd look at our calendar, jam packed with various commitments and wonder how we'd do it all, how we'd fit in any time for us, this nuclear family we've created. The stress just kept piling on and piling on until it got to the point where I just was ready for Christmas to be over.

This year was different. We made a decision, a commitment to our little family that we'd slow it down this year, take some time to just be. We decorated the tree at a leisurely pace, I actually managed to get Christmas cards out with a picture of the kids no less, we baked a little, visited Santa, spent time together as a family. It was beautiful. There was peace.

You miss it all if you don't slow down sometimes.

-----

We took the kids sledding one of the first weekends in December. It was the first real snowfall we had this winter. Unfettered by a schedule, we were able to do it, able to just pick up, throw on some snow pants and boots and go play in the snow.

Rosy cheeks, giggles, screams of delight. My sweet babies. Their father, my amazing husband. Togetherness. A realized dream.

My cup runneth over.

2007-11-10T17:24:00.000-08:00

You Turn your Back for a Second...

2007-11-10T12:37:00.000-08:00

Halloween

2007-11-10T10:21:00.001-08:00

Misconceptions

Ironically, we had just left speech therapy. It was a Friday, a Mommy-Lauren day. Lauren doesn't have school on Fridays while our kindergartner does. We spend the morning at speech therapy then off to run errands together. While they are busy days, it is still nice to have that time where it is just us girls.

A crisp fall day, the sun shining, I was feeling pretty good about life as we walked into the general store that I frequent for groceries and other odds and ends. The cart valet or whatever it is you call that job smiles at my familiar face, looks to Lauren then proceeds to talk to me. "Did you take her trick-or-treating?" he asks. I'm sure he's asking me this as Lauren is looking extra cute today in her ballerina outfit. He's probably wondering what my little princess went as for Halloween. "Oh, of course!" I say. "She was Cinderella."

He leans in conspiratorially, looking at me as if he is one of the few people that knows my plight. "I'm still harassing my wife about this," he says. "We had this little girl come to our door, trick-or treating. My wife says to her, "Say Trick-or-Treat!" She doesn't respond. My wife keeps telling her, "Say Trick-or-Treat!"

He pauses for emphatic knowing.

"She was mute!" he says.

"Oh, okay, huh" I say, unsure how to respond to this bizarre story he is relaying to a woman in a grocery store whom he doesn't know.

He looks at Lauren and nods. I walk away, moving on to the locally grown apples I've come to retrieve. Then it dawns on me. He thinks my Lauren is mute! I am stunned. Now this is a new one. As a parent of a child with a disability, I'm painfully aware of the multitude of misinformed, misguided misconceptions out there. But, mute? Never that one. I'm turning it over in my mind, this new stone that has been cast at me to handle as we finish our shopping.

I know I should go back to him and clear it up. Sometimes it is so exhausting though, having to educate others about Down Syndrome, what it is and isn't. Sometimes you just want to go to the market with your daughter and enjoy the day.

I forget quite a bit that it is visible. Her facial features, I forget that others can sometimes tell. She's just Lauren to me, my sweet, beautiful, ballerina princess Lauren. I wish the public were a bit more desensitized about it, that seeing a child with Down Syndrome was not such a rarity. I wish we could just be sometimes without the intrusive assumptions.

We finish our shopping. Lauren is anything but quiet throughout the store. Mute! Ha! The man is at the checkout by the time we are ready to go. I walk through his lane, at which point I should have corrected him but I'm too tired and just ready to leave. We don't exchange any words beyond the cashier/customer ones. Lauren, having finished her cookie is saying, "Up! Up! Up!" while I'm trying to pay. She wants up and out of the grocery cart. I smile at her. Today she's doing the educating for me.

2007-09-20T12:37:00.000-07:00

Elusive Virtue

Patience is not a virtue I've been known to possess. I'm one of those stubborn, dig your heels in, I-want-it-and-I-want-it-now sort of people. I think the big man upstairs has been continually putting opportunities in my life for me to develop this. I envision him up there, shaking his head, chuckling at my bull-headed lack of it saying, "try this on for size, Cathy. Maybe you'll get it now."

Absent a modicum of patience, raising children, a child with special needs no less and pursuing an adoption with all of its unknowns can be a challenge. My impatience tends to manifest itself in extreme worry. Some degree of worrying is par for the course of motherhood, I know. Mine tends to border on the out of hand, obsessive kind though.

Front and center on the impatient, worry channels of my brain these days is our adoption. Maybe it's that several of my friends have just had new babies, though I don't walk away after holding them with that "I want one!" itch. They are newborns. Our plans are to adopt an older baby. I think what has really done it, what has really wreaked havoc on me has been that my babies have started school. We've officially started the busyness of school, the schedules, the extracurriculars. I feel like we've closed a chapter in our lives. It has left me wistful, a little sad and with a spinning head as I try to juggle all the stuff we've got crammed into our lives, which I swore I'd never do but find myself doing anyway because, after all, this is Suburbiaville. It must be catching.

Of course, there is the ever-increasing wait time for a referral from China too. There are always unknowns with international adoption, or any adoption for that matter. You don't have much control over the process other than the gather-your-paperwork stage, which I was completely militant about. That part felt like we were waiting to wait, if that makes any sense. We couldn't even get in line, if you will, until we had all that paperwork (our "dossier") together. We're there now though, waiting with what seems like a zillion other families. At this point we're being optimistic to say it will hopefully happen in 2009.

2009

We started this process, officially anyway in fall of 2006. It had been in the works for over a year at that point, at least in the thought process. The wait, the possibility, which is there of our adoption not even happening until 2010 is deeply disheartening.

There are two ways of looking at this wait. The positive side of me, when I'm trying my best not to retreat into my typical, impatient, I-want-it-and-I-want-it-now state says, you know what, this allows you time to do lots of stuff, to focus on the two kids you have, to get things in order for the new baby, to figure out a name, decorate her room (which I am currently typing in and is no way started), etc. The other side doesn't like things being on hold, doesn't like unknowns (get used to it- I know), wants another baby, want our family to be complete so we can move forward without being in a state of flux.

We chose China for a variety of reasons. We knew going into it that it could be a long wait for a referral of a baby. I don't think we really fathomed just how long it could be. I have found myself, on days were I'm feeling particularly frustrated with the lack of an end in site to this adoption road, looking into other countries. They all seem so foreign to me, ironically. It is like my heart has settled in China, has familiarized itself with all that it entails. I have this picture in my mind of a baby girl from China that I can't seem to replace with another face from say, Uzbekistan or someplace like that. We've done this dance of "well, maybe someplace else" before but we always, always come back to China.

Maybe it is my stubbornness. Maybe I'm digging in my heels again. I feel in my heart that our baby will be there though, in China. I may later come to eat these words. I hope not. I don't know the rhyme or reason to why it is taking so long. I believe that someday I'll know, when I look into our child's eyes.

2007-09-05T17:41:00.000-07:00

And so it begins...

Breathe, just breathe

2007-08-10T11:05:00.001-07:00

It's Christmas at our house. Christmas in August. We're in the dog days of summer, the heat oppressive and sticky. "Have a holly, jolly Christmas" plays on. Ethan has decided it is time to listen to his Christmas cd on his little $30 stereo we bought for the kids. It is uplifting and fitting. It feels a bit like Christmas. We got to bring her home.

It has been go, go, go for us for the past 6 weeks as we've crammed in visits with various family members and friends. Homebodies and creatures of routine that we are, it is never easy. Our kids have never travelled well, largely in part due to the fact that we just don't do it frequently enough for them to get used to it. They are little still though.

It had to catch up with us eventually, the constant flitting around from here to there, hours spent in the car every weekend. Drive-through meals of greasy chicken nuggets and fries, missing naps, late bedtimes. I've watched it happen before all too often to know what follows. They get sick.

This time it was bad.

Lauren woke up in the middle of the night Monday crying and yelling, "Momma, momma, momma!" Easy, even tempered child that she is it was very unlike her to be inconsolable like that. We figured she maybe had an ear infection, rocked her for an hour and finally got her back to sleep. She started vomiting at 10:30 a.m. the next day and it went downhill from there.

We finally called the pediatrician around dinner time as she was dry-heaving and sometimes bringing up dark green vomit that I'd never seen before. She was listless. Her lips were dry. They directed us to head to the hospital because she sounded dehydrated and the dark green vomit was of concern. The nurse didn't tell us why though.

Mark took her downtown to Children's Hospital while I stayed with Ethan. We figured she'd get 4 hours of IV fluids and be sent home.

Apparently, bilious vomit, which was what she was puking up, is often a sign of some kind of blockage, requiring emergency surgery. After multiple tests, one in which involved her swallowing some nasty barium solution which she promptly threw up all over herself and her hair, a meeting with a surgical team who told Mark they were really concerned (of course immediate panic ensues after a doctor- a surgeon nonetheless- tells you they are really concerned), it was finally ruled out. Lauren was just so sick that her little body had nothing left in its stomach so this other stuff was coming out.

I got a call at midnight from Mark (whose cell phone happened to die while he was down there with her!). "Looks good" he tells me after explaining all of the previous concern. "We'll be out of here in an hour and a half or so."

That never happened. They ended up admitting her as she wasn't turning the corner fast enough.

Mark came home around 3:00, empty handed.

I couldn't get there fast enough. I drove in silence the whole way. The eerie darkness of the wee hours of the morning, the empty streets, were reminiscent of some kind of bad dream I expected to wake up from any minute.

Children's Hospital is just not a place you want to be. You don't want to have to ever need it. There is just something inherently wrong with children being that sick. It shouldn't be.

I found myself looking around as I made my way up to the "infectious disease" floor which she was on, wondering what everyone else was there for. Illness far worse than what we were dealing with in a lot of cases. The worry-ravaged faces of the parents as they waited. You can't help but look at them and think, "that could be me."

I told myself to hold it together as I walked down the hall to her room. She looked awful. Her right hand was all bandaged up with a splint, in an effort to hold the IV in. Vomit-matted hair and a blue pint-sized hospital gown, gaping at the back, she looked cold, exhausted and scared as she lay in a crib with tall metal sides, plastic flaps at the top that looked like a cage. The nurse had been trying to entertain her with blaring cartoons. It was 4 a.m. Cartoons? She calmed as soon as she saw me. I fought back the tears, not believing that we were there, thanking God that she didn't need surgery and cursing myself for not preventing her from getting this sick. My sweet baby girl.

I turned off the tv, flipped off the glaring overhead fluorescent lights so that we could quietly listen to the hum and whir of the pump as it replaced her fluids. She settled to sleep, finally, as I sat there in the darkness and watched her.

There isn't much sleep to be had while in the hospital. Vital checks every hour, sometimes more frequent than that. Just as she drifted off, they'd be in for something else, waking her up and we'd start all over again with trying to settle down. The hours all start to run together.

"We will probably have to keep her another night" the attending physician tells me as the multitude of other doctors on the "team" look on. "Kids can sometimes turn the corner in the afternoon but from the way she looks now, she'll need to stay." I look at her, as she lay there trying to suck her thumb, the bandaged up one, with quiet, sad resignation. I know this is what she needs but every pore in my body is screaming to grab her up and cart her out of there, back to her own bed, her pajamas, her brother, her life.

Funny how losing it for a bit makes you appreciate the life that you have, with all of its petty annoyances and frustrations. The beauty of normalcy. I couldn't wait to have it back.

A nurse finally suggested an anti-vomit medicine that did the trick with helping to break the cycle and allow Lauren to keep down a Popsicle and some pedialyte. Things started to look up. Mark took the afternoon shift so I could go home to shower and check on our son, whom our neighbor to whom I will be forever grateful, had taken for the day.

He called in the afternoon. "They've taken the IV out and it looks like we might be able to go home tonight if she can keep some applesauce down, " he told me. Thank God.

Hours later, she was discharged. I sat with her in the car, the sweet heat of summer air surrounding us, as we waited for her father to pull his car around so we could drive back together. I caught her smile in the review mirror as she listened to the new Paul Simon song on the radio, "Father and Daughter."

"I believe the light that shines on you
Will shine on you forever
And though I can't guarantee
There's nothing scary hiding under your bed
I’m gonna stand guard
Like a postcard of a Golden Retriever
And never leave till I leave you
With a sweet dream in your head"

2007-07-20T12:53:00.000-07:00

A Day at the Park

Photos taken by my dear friend Kristin- edited by myself w/ Photoshop Elements

2007-07-19T18:40:00.000-07:00

There are no words...

2007-07-17T11:12:00.000-07:00

Relief

I have this plaque on the wall, visible right when you walk inside our house. It hangs above a sweet picture of our two children. It reads, "To have a child is to have your heart walk about outside of your body." Vulnerability in its truest form.

I don't see very well. I'm nearsighted. Without my glasses or contacts, I can't read my alarm clock next to my bed.

I have this recurring nightmare that I'm driving really fast, with my children in the car and I don't have my contacts in. I can't see. I'm petrified that we'll hit something, go careening into a ditch, or get lost. I can't anticipate, can't plan, can't navigate as I'm nearly blind. I always wake in a cold sweat, never knowing how it turns out.

I know what it means to be blindsided, how it feels. A sudden turn of events and we were on a new path. A path filled with never-before seen radiant beauty. Unexpected joy. It took me a moment to regain my footing though, to let go of what I thought my life would be before I realized the luminous daughter before me.

Lauren is loved with the same ferocity that her brother is. A protective mama bear is what I am, holding them close to my heart, as they are my heart. Even though I know it will be a reality in their lives, as it is for every living, breathing soul, I want to shield them from pain in all of its forms.

Read, read, read is what I do when faced with unknowns. Knowledge is power. At one point or another, I could cite exact incidences of various health problems that can go along with Down Syndrome. Heart defects, GI blockages, thyroid problems, vision and hearing deficits, autism, leukemia, atlanto-axial instability, celiac disease...they all start to blur together into one giant FEAR.

Maybe it sounds paranoid, to be constantly afraid that one of these will befall your child. The thing is, something already did. Your naive, "it won't happen to me" is replaced with a "what else is going to come my way?" You know what it means to have been going along in your life with a comfortable inability to expect the unexpected. When it does, all you can do is wait. You wait for the other shoe to drop.

Lauren gets tests. There is a schedule our doctor follows for said tests which were, at first every 6 months and now, mercifully, are every year. I remember that first one, when she was in the height of her chubby baby glory. Blood test. Mark had to hold her. I just couldn't do it. I watched and tried to comfort her, ultimately having to look away as I couldn't contain my tears while they poked her arm repeatedly, unable to find a vein in her sweet chubby baby arm. They ended up squeezing it out of her finger as she screamed. Not only is it awful to go through in the immediate sense, you also find yourself wondering what they'll find. Is that rash on her back petichiae associated with leukemia? Is there something we missed?

We're down to once a year now. She gets a thyroid screen, celiac disease test, cbc to make sure there isn't something awry with her blood counts, vision and hearing screens which are cake-walks compared with the others and now an x-ray of her cervical vertebrae to check for something called atlanto-axial instability.

This is the second year she's had to be strapped to a table while they attempt to get some still pictures of Lauren's spine. The second year we've had to consult with a pediatric neurosurgeon as the results came back potentially indicative of aai. We usually have to wait a week or two after the x-ray before we can get in with the neurosurgeon. In the meantime, I talk to various friends who of course know of somebody's kid who had to have surgery to fuse the C1-C2 vertebrae because of this. Panic and fear lie much below the surface this year, to the point that I forget they're there, as we've been down this road before and it was okay. We'll watch it and see is what he told us last year. I'd like us to never have to go back.

I'm calm the night before. Outside talking with the neighbors about the benign stuff of life like ground-cover plants and watering the lawn. The fear doesn't start to creep in, to grip me by the throat until we're there, in the waiting room. I watch her running around the tiny room, a whirl of constant motion. She trips over her own feet and falls. I find myself wondering if this is some kind of symptom that I somehow missed, a change in gait?

The doctor finally sees us. He watches her for a few moments, asks us if we have any questions then shows us her x-ray. A small gap here, as he points to the spaces in her spine, right below her skull. How strange to see your child in x-ray form. He thinks its physiological, he tells us, due to her trisomy 21, not something else. No limitations. We'll repeat in a year.

Hallelujia! We can set aside the worry for another year, at least the worry about that anyway. We leave, load the kids up in the car. We're only down the street, away from the hospital for a few minutes before I'm choking back the sobs, not wanting to scare the kids. I didn't realize how scared I was until I feel the relief flooding over me.

2007-07-16T16:21:00.000-07:00

Our Girl

Sun Drenched Beauty

Daddy and Lauren

Mommy Love

Fun in the Sun

2007-07-15T12:53:00.000-07:00

Sepia Sandbox Photo

2007-07-15T12:08:00.000-07:00

Sweet Pea

2007-07-15T07:56:00.000-07:00

Nikon D40X- ROCKS!!! Mama's got a new toy!

These pics are right out of the box- no editing (yet). Incredible camera!

2007-07-02T12:54:00.000-07:00

The Path I Travel

I can tell when I haven't been running enough. A slip into sedentary life isn't just evidenced in the softening of my calves. I'm restless. Sleep is a little more elusive and fitful, leaving me coffee-dependent and fatigued throughout the day. I'm impatient, more so than usual. Cranky. My spirit feels the neglect as much as my body does.

It is hard to parlay into words what running does for me. Clearly it isn't just physical.

I am quick to neglect it, my running routine, when I'm not training for something. So easy it is to get caught up in day to day life, the goings on of a busy family with small children. The bleary-eyed mornings, searching for the caffeine fix and a quick shower are anything but a desirable time to run. Opting for the hamster run on the treadmill while our 5-year old plays or takes the occasional nap is uninspiring and a bit guilty. Evenings. The juggling act of entertaining a hungry 3-year old while throwing dinner together in time for Daddy to get home so we can all sit together. I often let it go. I'm tired tonight. I'll run tomorrow.

I run about 2 times a week when I am not training. Maybe 3 on a good week. I run the same path when I do manage to squeeze it in amongst my excuses. It is roughly a 4 mile run, sometimes 5 if I'm feeling adventurous. It is comfortable and familiar. And quite often hot as I can't seem to manage to get it done before the afternoon sun is high in the sky, beating down on me as I trod along my path. The release, like sweat, pours out almost immediately.

A well choreographed dance of mind and body. The heat, the sweat, the pounding as my feet hit the pavement are the tempo as I work through my thoughts, my day, my life.

There is a hill on my path. Steep by my standards. You'd think I'd avoid it. Not a fan of pain. Hills are pain. It is a love-hate relationship that I have with that hill. Rough, unrelenting upward climb that it is, it is still part of my path. I push myself up that hill, never walking, always running. Shorter strides, labored breathing, I'm nearly dizzy when I get to the top. It takes me a couple minutes to recover my pace as I continue on. I endured it again. Maybe next time I'll race up it, unaffected.

I always sprint at the end. I like to see how much I've got left. Full-out, I run the last little bit as fast as I possibly can.

I walk back home, from my starting and ending place, at peace. I need to do this more often, I think to myself. I'll sign up for a race.

2007-06-24T11:29:00.000-07:00

Hope

2007-06-07T10:54:00.000-07:00

The Last Day

Okay, so sometimes I am wrong.

We've had the option to enroll Lauren in an early intervention "school" program since she was 18 months old. It is sorta like a "pre" preschool. Completely free (funded by the county), she'd get all of her therapies in a classroom setting. There was no way I was going to put her in it at 18 months. When the option came around the following school year, when Lauren would have been 27 months old, I discussed it with our EI home-based teacher who had been coming to our house once a month. I was dead set against it.

From the get-go, I've wanted Lauren to be treated the same as Ethan. Enrolling her in a school program which she would attend 3 mornings a week when she was only 2 years old just seemed counterintuitive. We had tried a 1 morning a week program for Ethan when he was her age. It turned out to be a disaster. He couldn't separate from me. We'd even drive by the church it was held at and he'd start screaming. I finally pulled him out after a couple of months because it was too painful for both of us. Chalked it up as a learning experience and moved on. The idea of putting Lauren in a program that was 3 days a week- well, there was just no way I was going to do it. "That's my baby," I said.

I had about a million different justifications for why we weren't going to do it. Too much at a young age, she was too little, how would I transport her there and get her brother to preschool that was 30 minutes away, when would she spend time with her brother or mommy, I didn't send Ethan to school at 2 years old for that many days a week, why would I send Lauren? and on and on.

I belong to an online support group for parents of children with Down Syndrome. There are a couple of people that live here locally on it as well who have children close in age to Lauren. When Jennifer posted a message about the fabulous experience her son had at this preschool and included pictures of him playing with paint or some other form of really messy media that we just don't do at home too much, I decided to call her and talk to her about it. He looked like he was having a blast in the pictures.

Even after talking to Jennifer, I was still sure we were not sending Lauren. Just in case, at the urging of my incredibly supportive home-based EI teacher, we put her name on the wait list. We were so late in getting Lauren on the list that I was sure she wouldn't get in and I wouldn't even had to consider it. We went about the summer without a further thought to the school idea for Lauren.

I got a call a week before the start of school from Lauren's would-be teacher that she was in. The teachers would like to schedule a home visit prior to the start of school next week to meet Lauren and our family. Wait. What? Huh? School? After asking a million questions, with much nervousness, I decided we'd maybe give it a try for a couple of weeks and see how it went. We could always pull her out of the program. I didn't think we'd last past September.

Oh how wrong I was. Lauren walked into that place like she'd been coming there all her life. Right to the toys and not much looking back at Mommy. I think I was sadder than she was. She had two amazingly patient, kind and loving teachers. They were undaunted by the plate and sippy cup throwing that occurred at home. They were even going to feed her lunch! She had 7 other kids to play with, a whole host of toys, a play gym that looked like a Gymboree play place, playgrounds, a music teacher that came to the class, a computer to play with and plenty of opportunities to get messy that didn't involve clean up at home! There was a PT, an OT and a speech therapist all that came once a week to the classroom as well.

We ended up staying for the entire school year. I figured out a way to do the 30 minute drive to get her there. I juggled the Wednesday madness when I was shuttling them both to and from their schools which were not close to one another. It was worth it. Lauren has gained so much from this experience, as have I. What a wonderful introduction to school we have been given. Lauren will start preschool at our local school district in the fall. It is supposed to be fabulous as well but I wonder how anything will ever compare to this first school she was at. They have set the barre so very high.

Today was Lauren's last day of school. We took a trip to the zoo with her class. I never do well with transitions or goodbyes so there were a lot of tears involved.

I've realized a lot since having Lauren. I've realized that sometimes it is good to step outside the box. Ideas about how things are supposed to be should be fluid and flexible. There is rarely only one right answer. This special child has taught me so much in the 3 years she has been on this earth.

2007-06-05T11:35:00.000-07:00

The Princess Turns 3!

Happy Birthday, sweet girl!

2007-06-04T11:37:00.000-07:00

Water Fountain Park Fun

2007-06-04T11:30:00.000-07:00

Some pics from the park

2007-05-30T13:10:00.000-07:00

92 degrees today

Hot- very, very hot.

Air conditioner is broken.

Going on very little sleep as I was sweltering last night.

Sleep-deprived and hot. Not a good combo. Makes for a super grouchy mommy.

2007-05-29T11:58:00.000-07:00

Fun in the Sun Day at Lauren's Preschool

2007-05-24T14:39:00.001-07:00

Conversations with my 5 year old

I try to do something special with Ethan on the days that Lauren is in school and he is not. Today we were at Starbucks, having a coffee and a strawberry frappucino. I love these little sit-downs we have together, just the two of us. He is a very chatty kid so we are never lacking for conversation. Here is part of our dialogue today:

Ethan: You know Mommy, it wasn't that long ago that you were a kid.

Me: Uh-huh, I guess so.

Ethan: I can't believe you are 31!

Me: (smiles)

Ethan: That's a BIG number!

2007-05-18T13:35:00.001-07:00

Recipe for Disaster- i.e. roller skates

2007-05-18T13:25:00.001-07:00

Soccer

2007-05-18T13:18:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day

2007-05-18T10:58:00.000-07:00

Note to Self:

Never leave a 2 year old alone with ketchup.

2007-05-17T10:37:00.000-07:00

I like this article. I especially like the part about children not being appliances and not coming with guarantees. Check it out:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kim-stagliano/the-appalled-voice-of-an-_b_48545.html

2007-05-05T10:22:00.000-07:00

The question of prenatal testing

Someone very near and dear to me is expecting. In our conversations about her pregnancy, questions about prenatal testing have come up. Given Lauren's diagnosis, how and when we received it, what is my advice?

We did not have any prenatal testing for either of our children. I was relatively young when I was pregnant with both of them (25 with Ethan and 27 with Lauren). It seemed there wasn't any reason to pursue it. I had watched co-workers of mine go through a lot of agonizing after having AFP tests that gave them greater odds of having a child with a chromosome abnormality. The AFP test is largely based on maternal age. It only picks up 60% of cases in which the baby has Down Syndrome. I am a natural born worrier. I didn't want to worry unnecessarily. Plus, I was young and healthy. There was nothing to worry about. We would not have terminated a pregnancy so it seemed like a waste of time and energy to do the test.

There is a newer, more accurate test out now called the nuchal translucency test. Non-invasive and touted as being highly accurate, it still only gives you a percentage for your risk of having a child with certain chromosomal abnormalities, including Down Syndrome. It is a screening test, not a diagnostic test.

It was like we were hit by a truck when we received Lauren's diagnosis, shortly after she was born. Blindsided. Never saw it coming. We have some pictures that were taken after her delivery. They all turned out great except for this one where the doctor is holding her, posing with the nurse and I. It was taken right before he handed her back to me and told us. It is the only one that turned out grainy and hazy. It was that last moment before our lives were forever changed.

I worried a lot during my pregnancy with her. I chalked it up to second pregnancy jitters. I remember crying in the doctor's office, inexplicably. I couldn't put my finger on why I was worried. I prayed every night that my baby was okay. There was no logical reason for me to be as worried as I was. Mothers have instincts though. Clearly, mine were telling me something was different with this pregnancy.

It didn't consume me though. I was able to still enjoy my pregnancy- as much as I could when I wasn't throwing up as I did for 7 months of it. My point is, I had all the normalcy that goes along with it. I ate too much Burger King, took naps everyday, marveled at my growing belly and at the end, complained of discomfort probably too much. I read our son books about being a big brother and having a baby in the house. Wrote in a journal. Took pictures. Prepared the "big boy room" so that the new baby could have the nursery. I did all the stuff you do when you are expecting a baby, relatively unencumbered except for the occasional nagging thought in the back of my mind that something might be wrong.

Things would have been very different had we known her diagnosis when I was pregnant. Being a natural born worrier, I would have obsessed about it. I would have had the stark, cold, clinical diagnosis without a baby in my arms to offset it.

Would we have grieved less when she was born? Probably. That's the part I wish I could take back. It is abnormal to be sad on the day your baby is born. To feel like you have been sucked up by a dark cloud is so contrary to the experience of the birth of a new life. I know what we went through was normal and was part of the process. I also know that I will feel some guilt for the rest of my days for the tears that I shed when Lauren was born.

A pink dress, hat and pink socks were what I had bought in case we had a girl. When I put them on her, I told Mark she looked like a little flower. Our little flower. At 9lbs 4 oz., she was the biggest baby in the nursery while we were there. She had the chubbiest cheeks! The nurses told me she was so snugly they didn't want to put her down. We didn't either.

Having sweet Lauren to hold, to love, to take care of made those first few weeks of getting our hands around her diagnosis easier. She wasn't just a list of characteristics. She was Lauren, our little flower, first and foremost.

If I had to do it all over again, would I do it any different? No. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn't have cried so much. That's about the only thing I would have changed.

2007-04-22T17:54:00.000-07:00

My 3 Favorite Books

I'm in this book club. There are about 7 or 8 of us in it. We've read a rather eclectic bunch of books, some good, some really, really bad. It has been great to delve into a book and be able to hash it over with some really intelligent people with unique perspectives. Okay, so we get to go out to cool restaurants too- nice perk!

We've recently been gathering a list of our top 3 favorite books. Here are mine in no particular order.

1. Expecting Adam by Martha Beck
I read this after Lauren was born. I was in a state of complete and utter devastation at the time. This book helped see me through that. It is one of the most powerful books I've ever read.

2. Traveling Mercies, Some thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott
My father-in-law told me about this book. We exchange books quite a bit. This is a memoir about a woman with a very tough past. It is about how she gets through it and discovers her faith. The back book jacket describes hers as a "devout but quirky walk of faith." Right up my alley!

3. The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls
I love a good memoir about someone overcoming something really hard and making something of themselves despite it. Jeanette Walls is a writer for MSNBC. This is one of the best memoirs I have ever read.

2007-04-18T11:42:00.000-07:00

Learning to Fly

I'm not a runner. Not a natural runner. Nothing about it comes easy for me. I generally try to avoid things that hurt. Running tends to hurt sometimes.

My husband is a runner. Mark is one of those people who is good at everything he does. I would say he has quite a bit of natural athletic ability. More importantly, he has this intrinsic drive that pushes him on despite fatigue, self-doubt and pain. I'm not sure how much of that is innate or a product of his life experiences. He is a survivor, to be sure. It shows thru in everything he does.

I started running after I graduated from college. I was too poor to join a gym. I had to teach myself how to do it. Run. Walk. Run. Walk. Walk some more because running is just too hard. Being averse to pain made this a long process, as you can imagine.

Then I met Mark.

I still scratch my head sometimes, wondering how it is that I got so lucky. That someone like him would want to be with pain-in-the-ass me. I'm impatient, disorganized, scatter-brained, loud, mouthy, opinionated, you get the picture. He's the opposite of all of those things.

God certainly smiled upon me when Cupid's arrow got Mark. Being with him has made me a better me.

I've been thru some crap in my life. We all have to some extent. I can't say that I've always handled it with the utmost of grace or dignity. I've handled it though. I've survived too, though not with the same finesse that Mark has. I've got scars, old wounds with giant band-aids on them that never completely healed because they couldn't get air. I've had baggage so heavy I've been stuck at a standstill, unable to move from the weight.

I never did so well with teaching myself to run. Mark, with his never ending belief that I had it in me, taught me. It has taken me 9 years and turning 30 to realize he was right all along.

I ran my first half-marathon last October, the year I turned 30. I just ran another one last weekend. They have been truly cathartic experiences. Running, for me, became about so much more than fitness. It was about working thru the pain and self-doubt. It was about realizing I was strong and could endure. It was about ripping off the band-aids, losing the baggage, feeling the wind on my face and having faith in myself.

In the words of Tom Petty, I'm "learning to fly but I ain't got wings." I thank my ever-present cheerleader, my husband who has always believed in me. By doing so, you have given me wings.

2007-04-12T06:07:00.000-07:00

Ethan

This is how we go down the slide!

Whee!

Jammin' with her beloved monkey

My sidekick

2007-04-11T10:58:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's where I live. Suburbiaville, USA, with its malls, mini-vans and perfectly manicured lawns. We dress our kids like mini-adults here and schedule them as such. Successful mothering appears to be measured by how crazy we can make ourselves and our kids by jamming their free time chock full of organized activities.

I recently attended a birthday party with my 5-year old son. Don't get me started on how overblown kids birthday parties have become either. At said birthday party, I found myself in a conversation with a woman who was explaining her son's vast array of activities he was involved with. The boy was six years old. In addition to school, he had 6 days a week of sports. The woman was overwhelmed with it herself. She proceeded to tell me that her son now doesn't know what to do with down time. His enviable toy collection sits mostly untouched. He hasn't had time to play with them and thus, doesn't know how.

We've got 3 gyms within a 7 mile radius. These are kid gyms. You can sign your 3 month old up for gym class! We like to start them young here in Suburbiaville.

And then there is hockey. It is quite the craze here in Suburbiaville. You can start your 3- year old in lessons so that they are ready to play on a league by 5 years old! At 5 years old, there are 2 days a week of hockey. One of the added perks of the program is the 6:00 a.m. Sunday games. Yep, you got it. One the ice at 6:00 a.m. That means you have to get your kid up by 5:00 a.m. to insure that they have had breakfast as well as packed all the pounds of gear you have to take with you to said hockey game. What happened to jammies and cartoons on weekend mornings?

By the time your kid is 5, you have most likely enrolled them in soccer as well. Where do you think the term, "soccer mom" was coined? Why, Suburviaville of course! The parking lots are so full at the soccer fields that they have police directing the traffic.

Kid sports are like the postal service. Every year it gets more expensive. Rain, sleet, snow, they play! It was 32 degrees last weekend here. Easter weekend. 32 degrees, blowing winds and some flurries. Soccer did not get cancelled. We have 4 and 5 year-olds outside, in the cold, playing soccer.

What has happened to us? Why the incessant need to over schedule our kids? We've created this adult-like schedule for them in which there is no time to just be a kid. I have fond memories of just being at home, playing with my sister or the neighborhood friends. We had quite elaborate games. We got to be scientists, entrepreneurs, mothers, teachers, friends, rock stars using our imaginations.

What have we traded for imagination?

2007-04-08T11:03:00.000-07:00

It's beginning to look a lot like- wait a minute- that's not right- it's Easter!

Snow?

Huh?

Look what the Easter Bunny brought me!

Time to get up, Lauren! The Easter Bunny came!

You got some cool stuff too!

The 10th try for a photo of the kids in their Easter best.

Mommy and Lauren

Mommy and Daddy- courtesy of our budding 5-year old photographer, Ethan

Happy Easter!

2007-04-07T06:32:00.000-07:00

Saturday Morning Pancakes

We have a ritual in our house. I like that I can say that. I think rituals and routines are important. We thrive on them. More importantly, our kids thrive on them.

Perhaps they don't thrive on the copious amounts of chocolate chips I throw into the pancake batter for our Saturday morning pancakes. It's nice to start the weekend with a warm, gooey, sweet treat though.

Mark and I are greeted every Saturday morning with the pitter patter of little feet, promptly at 8:00 since we (wisely) installed a clock in his room. Our five year old runs over to Daddy's side as he knows Mommy is a grouch in the morning. Best not to wake the dragon. "Time to get up!" he shouts as he climbs in and hugs his daddy. This usually continues for a good 10 minutes as it takes Mark awhile to wake up, even though he is a self-professed morning person. It is long enough to wake the dragon though, usually.

Though it is hard for me to get up, those pancake mornings, with the syrup, the chocolate, sticky faces and fingers, the mess, stay with me throughout the week. The sweet bliss of family life. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

2007-04-06T16:46:00.000-07:00

A Blogger I will be

So, it looks like I will blog. I have been quite reluctant to open up on this blog because it seems just so, well, public. I have filled this blog- okay, really didn't fill it as my postings were so sparse, with pictures of the kids and mindless ramblings for fear of sounding like a baffoon. But, alas, upon reflecting on a subject I have been grappling with for so long relative to Lauren's therapies, the necessity or lack thereof of insanity in our schedules, I have felt the need to open up a bit on this blog. And so it begins...

2007-04-05T07:35:00.000-07:00

A Must Read:

http://www.literarymama.com/oped/archives/001432.html

I love this post! Kuddos to this very astute mother for knowing what was best for her child and for her family. Reading things like this helps me to put any doubts I have about the course of action I have taken in our lives to rest.

On with the blanket forts!

2007-04-04T12:39:00.000-07:00

Enough

I am often struggling with the question of whether or not I am doing enough, particularly for our daughter who has Down Syndrome. It is incredibly difficult to find a balance, at least for me, it seems. I guess we all struggle with finding balance in our lives, whether we have a special needs child or not. Part of the journey, I suppose.

Lauren started receiving various therapies to address her developmental delays from a very early age. She was about 2 months old. I look back on that first year and wonder how we made it through. It is a blur. I hate that. I hate that it is a blur.

We had 2 year old Ethan and newborn Lauren. We had the breast pump because I felt it incredibly important for her to have breast milk even though she couldn't nurse. We had the Early Intervention teacher. We had case manager #1. We had case manager #2. We had a physical therapist. We had an occupational therapist. Then, we eventually had a speech therapist. Down Syndrome Clinic visits, doctors visits, thyroid screens, hearing screens, vision screens, etc., etc., etc. It is amazing that Ethan managed to get potty trained amidst the chaos that was our life at the time.

It has gotten easier. We at least don't have the breast pump.

As we've progressed down this road together as a family, I am continually made more aware of how important it is to find a balance. We all need time and attention. Lauren needs time to just be a kid and not be shuttled around from appointment to appointment. Ethan needs time where he is the focus. Sometimes Mom and Dad need a little time. Sometimes we need time to just be a normal family.

Early intervention has its place. Don't get me wrong. I think we can overdo it with our kids though. Therapy 5 days week? It wears on you after awhile. I've got to think it wears on the kids too. There is something to be said about the "therapy" of hanging out with your 5 year old brother or the neighborhood kids on a sunny day. This is why I have never been or never will be a mom who pushes it like that. We've had a lot of appointments crammed into our lives but I've tried to minimize it as best as I could while doing what I thought was best for our daughter's special needs. Some would say I am not doing enough.

Who is to say what is "enough" though? Maybe there is not enough time to just be a kid, to just enjoy your kids.

2007-03-05T11:02:00.000-08:00

Lauren

2007-03-05T10:54:00.000-08:00

My Beautiful Children

2007-03-03T12:21:00.001-08:00

My Montage - Click here!

Here is my first attempt at a montage for Ethan's birthday! Took me awhile to figure out how to get the right music on it but with the help of some friends, I did it. So, this first one is for you, Ethan, my sweet, sweet boy. I cannot believe that you are 5 years old now! You never cease to amaze me with your beautiful spirit. I remember that first week we were home with you. Daddy left to run an errand so it was just you and me for the first time. I put on some music and danced (and cried tears of joy) with you. At that moment, I was so overwhelmed with joy that my life was so blessed. It continues to be blessed, largely in part to you, my amazing son. Happy Birthday!

2007-03-02T17:58:00.000-08:00

Happy 5th Birthday, Ethan!

We love you so much!

2007-02-11T17:02:00.000-08:00

Here we go...

We are nearly done with compiling our paperwork for our adoption from China. Here is one of the photos we are including in our dossier. We had to have about 8 different "couple" photos, which were hard to come by because one of us is usually the photographer. Luckily, we have some great friends who were willing to help us out and take some pictures for us.

We are so excited to be this much closer to our new little one. We're still hoping to bring her home in 2008 but one can never be sure with the timelines with an international adoption. It could be in 2009. I am sure she will be well worth the wait.

2007-01-29T17:13:00.000-08:00

Lauren- Christmas Morning

2007-01-29T16:53:00.000-08:00

Ethan and Anna's "Band"

Ethan and his good friend, Anna, had a concert in the basement the other day. We had an audience composed of myself (mommy), Lauren and a whole bunch of stuffed animals. They had quite a good time!

2007-01-29T16:50:00.000-08:00

Two Bugs in the Tub

Ethan and Lauren have been loving baths in the jetted tub that we have! Sure does create a lot of bubbles from the shampoo and soap!

2007-01-29T16:38:00.000-08:00

Finally Some Christmas Pictures!

2007-01-29T16:30:00.000-08:00

Sledding Fun

The first significant snowfall of the winter left us with enough to shovel and sled on! We had a blast!

2006-08-02T11:49:00.000-07:00

Lauren at the Down Syndrome Association picnic

2006-08-02T11:39:00.000-07:00

I know I am biased but I think our little girl is just stunningly beautiful. My dad took this picture of her in May. What an incredible shot!

2006-08-02T11:08:00.000-07:00

Where is the summer going? I can't believe it is August already! We have been busy enjoying the summer- hence no blog updates for awhile! We've done a lot of playing outside with the neighborhood kids, going to the pool, running thru the sprinkler, bike rides, cooking out and general slow-paced summertime fun. Just how I like it!

2006-06-07T18:40:00.000-07:00

Lauren Turns 2!

2006-06-07T18:23:00.000-07:00

My Sweet Boy

Ethan is getting to be such a big boy these days! I still can't believe we are already thru with the first year of preschool. Time really seems to be flying by these days. It slips thru my fingers so fast, like sand that I can barely hold onto. We try to savor it though.

Today was a fun day of bike riding with the little girl who lives next door. Our neighborhoold backs to a horse farm. We always stop on our ride around the block to look at the horses. The kids love it. It is very peaceful there. I hope they don't bulldoze it anytime soon to put in a subdivision!

Monday was Lauren's 2nd birthday! We had a fabulous day! I will post more about that later with some pictures. She loved her cake so much that she decided to wear it!

2006-05-28T13:29:00.000-07:00

Our Family

We are having a great Memorial Day weekend just enjoying being together. The weather has been phenomenal. Ethan's been playing with the neighborhood kids, in the sprinkler, with his sand table and just riding bikes. Lauren is taking a long nap after playing all morning. This is what summer is all about!

My dad and Lynn came to visit us last night and left this afternoon. The kids had a great time with them as did we!

2006-05-28T13:23:00.000-07:00

To Be a Kid Again...

2006-05-28T13:14:00.000-07:00

With Grandpa and Grandma Memorial Day weekend

Sweet Girl

Memorial Day weekend.

2006-05-26T12:08:00.000-07:00

Here's an old pic that I found from January. I think Mark and Lauren were watching a Buckeye game. That is a major pastime in our house during football season. This is a nice one of Lauren with her daddy.

2006-05-26T11:50:00.000-07:00

I am testing out my first entry on blogger. Let's see how this goes. Here are my two peanuts. Ethan is 4 years old. Lauren will be 2 years old in 2 weeks. Lauren was born with a little something extra. She has down syndrome. I'll post more about that later. Let's see if this first post works.