Boys will be boys...

I never had a brother. Just one older sister. She's going to be 50 this year--her sixth decade. Man, that's old! (If you think I'm being unduly harsh, just know that my much beloved sister deserves every word--take that Susan!)

Anyway, back to the brother I never had. I remember when I was in the 6th grade thinking that a baby brother would be oh so fun. I mentioned this to my mother and after she wiped the look of horror off of her face, she calmly informed me that a baby would not be forthcoming because daddy had gotten a vasectomy. My mom is a nurse, so she always explained everything in a clinical and dispassionate way. Never a euphemism for her--nothing like, "Daddy pulled a muscle at work which is why he's spending the weekend snuggled up to a bag of frozen peas!"

This lack of a brother explains why boys are still somewhat a mystery to me and why Kirk causes consternation and mirth at the same time. Friday was a baseball practice night and we got ready to leave only to discover that the little man lost his baseball glove. The problem is the boy can be standing on top of something and not see it. He can find the one package of poptarts that I've hidden deep in the recesses of the pantry, but his coat or backpack that is sitting in the middle of the floor? Heck no!

We searched high and low when it occurred to me that I last saw him with it in the backyard. Not the vast backyard of the old house, no the current backyard which closely resembles a postage stamp. It was sitting in the dry creek bed (i.e. drainage ditch with fancy schmancy rocks in it...) right out in the open where the passengers on an airplane could see it with their own eyes. Kirk had to be sent out twice to find it.

This, and a weeks worth of offenses, resulted in him being grounded all weekend except for the Saturday game and pictures on Sunday. I was certain it was going to be a miserable weekend for Greg and me with all the neighbor kids knocking and asking if Kirk could play. Kirk would be miserable and mope around the house and this would be the longest weekend I've ever endured.

However, boys surprise you now and then. Kirk took his punishment fairly well, only pouted a little, and paid a lot of attention to his sister. They get along really well anyway, but this weekend they have played hockey and read books and kicked the ball and generally had a great time together. Suzanne slept until 8 a.m. this morning--8 a.m. folks. This almost never happens. She is a 6:30 a.m. girl and always has been. For her to sleep in, she must have been totally tuckered out last night. Probably because she spent most of the day playing with her big brother.

It makes me happy to know that Kirk will be around to look after his sister after Greg and I are pushing up daisies (unlike my mother, I am a great fan of the euphemism!). I think that the love that Kirk has for Suzanne runs pretty deep and will withstand even puberty and the teen years. He might be one of those grubby, rock throwing, stinky-footed little boys, but he has a great love for his family and Suzanne in particular. He is a caretaker by nature, much like his father. As I have often said, he is the perfect big brother for Suzanne.

I'm so glad that we decided to have another baby and that we ended up with Suzanne. I'd hate to think that Kirk's big brother talents might have been wasted...

Word of the Day

What single word means all of these things...

1. A superstructure at the stern of a vessel.
2. To cause to become out of breath or fatigued.
3. A candid or pertinent factual report.
4. Excrement.

And the answer is...POOP! As in poop deck, pooped out, the poop, or poop in the potty. Poop seems to be the theme of my life right now. Either I am just plain pooped or Suzanne has pooped (usually somewhere obnoxious since she knows how to take off her clothes). Or I'm thinking longingly of having fruity umbrella drinks of the poop deck of a cruise ship or actually having time to read the entire newspaper to get the scoop and the poop. See, it's a theme and you all know how I love a theme...

Today we are talking about No. 4, which is often called No. 2! We have been working vigorously on potty training this week. Suzanne actually managed to tinkle in the potty chair on Wednesday, but the rest of the time she just sits on it and giggles. I think we had a breakthrough this morning, though. Unless I have her in non-removable clothes (I practically have to strap them on with duct tape), she will take off everything after she poops and leave the diaper on the floor. The poop nuggets, as Kirk calls them, tend to roll all over the place.

Today she did what she always does, except that this time she took off her diaper next to the toilet! I really think she is getting the idea about what we do in the bathroom. Gosh, I hope so because it was much easier to clean up and just flush it away.

Ahhhh, I can hear you thinking, "well if this happens every day, why doesn't she just watch her a little closer and catch her before she gets naked?" Two reasons actually. First, she buzzes (please refer to the previous blog entry). Second, kids with Downs have low muscle tone and may not be, uh, regular. While most of us have our "special moment" around the same time every day, Suzanne does not. I would have to keep her in my sights every waking moment, which is just not possible. I used to be able to just listen for her because she made the Pooping Noise, but now she has become the stealth pooper.

In essence, Suzanne is constantly searching for new ways to do things when I'm not looking. She may have Down Syndrome, but she's smarter than me.

Bee Bopping

When I was a kid I really wanted a nickname. Fortunately for me, Chicken Legs never really stuck past the 8th grade and underscored the wisdom of being careful what you wish for. Now, my friend Karen has a nickname that has stuck for over 30 years. When you can walk through the Portland Airport 20 years after high school and hear, "Hey Buckethead!" yelled across the concourse you know it's a winner. In fact, one time my son had to ask me if Aunt Bucky had a real name or if that was it...

Suzanne has a nickname--it is "The Bee." Grandma Della is chuckling right now because she knows exactly what this means. Suzanne buzzes most of her waking hours. She makes a circuit of whatever room she's in, peruses her play opportunities, moves the furniture when appropriate to get up to something more interesting, rearranges anything that is on her level, touches almost everything...she buzzes! Currently she is tossing wooden blocks into bins, an activity that she's been at for several minutes now. When she is focused on something, her attention span gets much loooonger. When all the blocks are in one bin, she claps and cheers for herself before moving them back.

This goes on all day, everyday. She even reads books with this kind of intensity. She will go to the red book bin, pick one out, sit and peruse it, toss it aside and go get another. She will go through the entire bin in this fashion and when directed, she will put the books back and clean up. She points out characters like Carl and George (Good Dog Carl and Curious George) to whoever is listening and tell the story as she goes along. She does this mainly in Russian (okay, it just sounds like Russian) so it takes a good ear to pick out the real words.

Moving, talking, talking moving--she BUZZES. Since I am the one who gets to follow her most of the time, I am so grateful that we only built the 2288 and not the 2962. That extra 600 square feet of house would kill me!

Liquid Entertainment

Drip, Drip, Drip...today we are having bit of rain, as the newspaper so eloquently puts it. A Bit my horses fanny! It is the kind of rain that only happens in the Pacific Northwest, a kind of drenching mist that leaves you soaked and cold, especially if the wind kicks up. Kirk is out playing baseball, the first game of the season, and Greg is taking pictures of the whole thing. I was terrified that they'd be home by now, but luckily the rain that started at game time stopped about 10 minutes later. Now we're just misting. There is a reason that everything is green around here...

Suzanne did not go to the game, partially because it started at nap time and mainly because the field that we are stuck at also doubles as an unofficial dog park. I'm used to people like my mother and Kathleen down the street who pick up after their dogs. Apparently the people who let their hairy beasts roam the ball field don't care that kids are going to be playing there--and in the case of Suzanne, rolling on the grass and picking up any little thing that catches her eye. ANYTHING! Suzanne has already eaten dog poop once in her life and lived to tell the tale (after a vigorous and probably unpleasant mouth scrubbing from me), but I have no desire to repeat the incident. What is wrong with those people? Dog poop for Heaven's sake. Today it's wet dog poop. And even if they mow, it only turns into a zillion bits of dog poop.

It's going to be a long baseball season...

Suzanne doesn't need help to get into trouble. She usually manages at least once a day to do something that makes me rear back in horror. Let's take yesterday--do you all remember what Otter Pops are? The are the poor man's popsicle, the kind that come in little tubes, about 200 for 5 bucks or something like that. If you go to Costco, you can get the giant economy last-all-summer-sized box. Greg brought some home on Thursday and we opened it and put some in the freezer to...well, I don't have to explain this part. Anyway, Friday morning Suzanne was being a little too quiet, so I went looking for her and lo and behold, she was sitting on the kitchen table merrily ripping the Otter Pops open. Now, it is important to note that I cannot get into the little suckers without the benefit of scissors. Suzanne seems to have found the magic way to open them, since (thankfully) there were no scissors in sight! I had the sticky goo all over the table, the floor, the pile of newspapers, Kirk's coat, etc... I have now mopped the floor 3 times and still I'm finding sticky places. And, the stuff dyes skin, so Suzanne has red and purple shins, making me look like a very baaaaaaad mommy. I'm hoping after the second bath today it all comes off. Otherwise she wears long pants until it disappears.

Well, the boys are back and Kirk got a hit so he's happy. He wasn't impressed with the after-game snack, though. Turns out the first mom on the list (also the mom who made the list and insists on "healthy" snacks) brought pretzels and some unappetizing juice. I have assured Kirk that when it is my turn I will disregard the black marker shouting "HEALTHY SNACKS!" and bring Capri Suns and chewy granola bars. Dion will be annoyed, but the boys will love me.

Kirk was also happy that there were warm cookies waiting for him when he got home. (Don't get too impressed, they were just the Pillsbury slice & bake kind.) I didn't know if the game was going to be rained out, so I prepared a treat just in case a sad little boy came home early. I believe strongly in the restorative power of cookies. My mom drilled this into me early in life--is there nothing a cooky can't do?

Hooray for Baseball!

As the title says, Hooray for Baseball! We love baseball season around here--it's on the TV all the time, we get the extra MLB channels so we never miss a Giants game (they stink so far, but the season is young...) and Kirk turns into Mr. Baseball. The kid loves baseball more than pizza if you can believe that.

Suzanne is also a fan of baseball. She is a fan of anything where there is a lot of action and clapping and cheering. I suspect she will try out for the cheerleading or pep club one of these days. She likes to sit on the bench with the rest of the boys and clap for each batter--she doesn't play favorites.

This year Kirk is on the Rockies, so I think I'll get Suzanne a purple outfit to wear and cheer in. She might as well blend in and be fashionable, eh?

Even though Suzanne is clearly a tomboy, she does it with style. Yesterday at "Baby School," the name that Kirk has for her early intervention program, she wore a dress. It was a casual dress, but a dress nonetheless. I was impressed with her ability to play in the sandbox and then get out and brush off her skirt. Clearly she has learned how to play hard while maintaining her femininity! She also figured out that if you go down the slide headfirst, your skirt doesn't ride up. How practical!

Today we are planting flowers. I've gone back to my red, white & blue theme of several years ago. And since we don't have deer, the red ones might even stand a chance this time. (FYI--deer eat red flowers--they will leave the white ones alone for some reason.) We are planting petunias mainly because they are tough enough to withstand Suzanne. I figure if petunias can make it past the deer, they can make it past Suzanne.

There is yelling from down the hall. Kirk used to politely knock on the wall when he wanted to get up--Suzanne just bellows indignantly. Quiet time over!

Cat Birthdays

Yesterday was the Cat Birthdays. Emmy and Oscar are now 2 years old and the best kitties anyone could ever have. Kirk, who can now read the calendar, informed me that it was the cats' birthday and wouldn't it be nice if we had a cake? I hustled my fanny down to Safeway (we needed milk anyway) and got a little cake and some ice cream. Chocolate, of course, because the kitties are black.

I can't believe that people don't want black kitties, because they have great personalities. Oscar in particular is really good with Suzanne. He lets her pet him and tug on his ears and generally maul him around and he never scratches. He is so good natured and Suzanne loves him. She calls him "Kitty" or "Ok" and he comes to her when she pats her leg.

Yesterday is also the day that Suzanne decided to climb into the garden tub and turn on the hot water. As soon as the water went on I knew something was up and dashed into the room. There she was, happy as a clam at what she'd accomplished. And fortunately the tub is the farthest point from the hot water heater, so it is slow to get warm. She was only wet, but now I have something else in the house to secure. I feel like I live in a fortress sometimes--I can't keep anything where I'd like to, it all has to go up or in something or be tied down in some way. It's rather like being a prisoner in your own home. For example, we can't use Suzanne's dresser because she just tosses the clothes onto the floor and uses the drawers to climb to the top. The solution now is to keep her clothes in a laundry basket in the closet and tape her drawers shut with packing tape. The unexpected benefit is that now she can't get into her baby wipes and toss them around the room like snowflakes.

See what I mean? I'm just waiting for her to figure out a way around this latest fix.

I believe Suzanne is fairly high functioning. She is always thinking of something new and exciting to do, and I think it is more a thing of directing her into permitted activities. I will consider it a victory if she is potty trained by the time she enters preschool next fall. She doesn't have to be and many kids aren't, but I think it would be a good sign. I need all the good signs I can get.

In the meantime, I have two lovely cats who purr at me when I need a little time to calm down after one of Suzanne's antics. Emmy purrs louder, but Oscar will sit with me longer. Listening to the cats purr has become a form of much-needed meditation for me. All the more reason to get a cake and celebrate their birthdays!!

Today, better

Yesterday, bad. Today, better. God sent me a little ray of sunshine named Hilary (my niece) and between the two of us, we managed to get a handle on sweet Suzanne. My house is slightly less chaotic and my husband is responding to my cries for help.

Since it is evident that I must rearrange my life in order to find a little peace, I have decided that we need to get a new computer. You see, I have a web design business and my current office is located upstairs in the guest room. But when I am in the guest room, I am not accessible to Suzanne and she gets into any and everything if my attention is focused somewhere else. However, if I get a laptop computer with a wireless router, I will be able to work in many different locations, including the back yard. The more I can keep an eye on Suzanne, the less inclined she is to get into things. Also, I will be able to quickly spot teaching moments, which is key for kids with DS. I can multi task, but I need to have a great deal of flexibility and mobility.

My desire for an orderly desk space has given way to my desire to have "Serenity Now!"

BTW, I love one-liners from Seinfeld. I'm currently having a real good time with "Jimmy loves Elaine..." Only it's aimed at Hilary the aforementioned niece. Her new boyfriend goes by the name Jimmy and I just can't contain myself. I actually spoke to him on the phone today, (apparently now I'm Hilary's secretary as well as her aunt) and managed not to say anything embarrassing about her. I nearly blew a gasket keeping the jokes on the inside, but I managed.

My beloved little girl is taking a late nap today, which makes for a lovely afternoon for me. My mom, my sister, and two adorable schnauzer puppies are descending upon me this evening and I've got beds to make and bathrooms to clean. It's a mother/daughter thing. I try to turn my house into a Hilton Hotel whenever mom comes, which stresses me out. I can't manage the Hilton on a regular day, what makes me think I can manage it just because mom is coming... I think I'll just settle for clean toilets and fresh sheets and leave the Hilton to Paris. As for mom and Susan, they are undemanding, low key guests and will also be happy with the toilet/sheet situation. 6 hours in a car with two puppies--maybe I should get a couple of bottles of wine, too...

They should have done a Seinfeld episode on Elaine preparing for a visit from her mother...that would have been really funny!

A Lesson from Bitsy

Gosh, where do I start...


Having any child with a disability is difficult. You worry, you fret, you tear your hair out wishing things were different, that things were "normal." This is not a productive activity.

Then you begin to compare your child's disability with others and say "at least she doesn't have seizures" or "at least she can walk without assistance" or "at least she's healthy." Again, not a productive activity. My angel of a son says it best...you git what you git and you don't throw a fit.

I've been throwing fits lately. I used to think I was a patient person, I used to think I was giving and caring. Now, not so much. Now I'm a short tempered, impatient shrew of a mother who yells a lot. And yelling at or around a child with Down's Syndrome accomplishes nothing. In fact, it just scares Suzanne and reduces me to the level of dog poop.


There are moments of tremendous joy that comes with having a DS child. I am not currently having many of those moments. You see, Suzanne is a "terrible two." Not only is she developmentally delayed (i.e. she learns slower than other kids), she is doing the things other two year olds do. Doesn't seem fair, actually, that she should be saddled with both of these at the same time. She can do many things that other 2 year olds do, but she doesn't have the judgment to know that she shouldn't do them. Like climbing on top of her dresser or the dining room table or pushing chairs around so she can climb on other things. And every time she gets herself into a potentially dangerous situation, I feel more and more like a failure for not keeping her safe.


Which brings me back to this title of this post...A lesson from Bitsy. Back when I was in high school (when dinosaurs roamed the earth) my parents got me this wonderful little puppy named Bitsy. Not my choice of name, she came with it. She was a miniature Dachsund, black and tan, with a beautiful little face and warm sloppy tongue that she liked to give kisses with. Turns out, however, that Dachsunds have behavioral problems and like to do it their way. What eventually happens is that you don't train them so much as they train you. You change because they won't.



As I was driving home last night it hit me--my relationship with Suzanne is like that. Trying to get Suzanne to fit into my life and my way of doing things is fruitless and never going to happen. I need to fit into hers. She is running the show and I had better change and adapt because she can't. I've known for quite some time that I didn't have a life of my own anymore--I just didn't realize that Suzanne was so completely in charge. It is safe to say that I'm not taking this very well. I know that I'm entitled to have a life of my own, but I don't see how I'm ever going to have one again...

I hear sounds from downstairs...she's probably rifling through the trash again. Note to self--get a trash can that she can't get into...