A Smaller World

I lost a friend last Friday.  Alison Piepmeier was larger than life, a passionate and eloquent advocate for her daughter, Maybelle, and for equality in all things.  We met online, back when I was still writing, and then in person at my first NDSC convention in Washington DC in 2012.

2012 NDSC Convention

She missed the next few conventions for various reasons but I always assumed we'd meet up again at the next one.  But then her tumor came back.   I had planned to go help out for a weekend but the dates were moved and moved again and then there was no more time.   So in the middle of July, a week before my 5th NDSC convention, I manufactured a trip to Charleston and was able to spend an hour or so with her in the morning.  And then another hour in the afternoon.   She was weak, she occasionally fumbled, trying to find the right words, but was as insightful and vibrant as always.

Charleston, 7/11/16

I, however, couldn't find any words.  No profound, comforting thoughts about her looming death, or leaving her daughter nigh orphaned.  Nothing about what her friendship had meant to me.  I hugged her and told her I loved her and left flowers.  I hope that just showing up counted, a little.  I suspect my visit was more for my benefit that hers.  I worry it was intrusive - two plus precious hours lost to random online friend - but am profoundly grateful her mother let me have that time.

Even more so now that I couldn't attend her memorial on Friday.   At least I got to say goodbye in person.

Alison had this gift of making you feel like the most important person in the room.  She was warm and enthusiastic about everything from a FB snapshot to long rambling post.  You can see in the hundreds of comments and eulogies that she made everyone feel just as special and I know I am but one of hundreds who loved and will mourn her.  I am, by contrast, a tetchy introvert but her loss is that much more profound to my small world.  I hope I can show up for my other people with half as much gusto as she did.

Alison Piepmeier
12/11/72 - 8/12/16

Smorgasbord on Aging, Stress, and Working.

- Since Easter I've pulled 4 all nighters for the corporate gods and I'm still hyper ventilating in the morning at the sheer volume of shit that needs to get done.

- These days, an "all nighter" means staying up till 2-3am.  I really should have powered through till dawn 'cause I could have used those extra 3-4 hours but…  then I'd have keeled over and not had to worry about anything ever again.  Come to think of it, that sounds rather relaxing.

- I thought I was supposed to need less sleep as I got older?  I call bullshit.

- I miss you guys.  And I know it's the devil, but I miss you guys on FB too.  I'll be back soon.

- I did take a little time off ~ On Friday I took The Girl to Children's for her annual labs.  Fun stuff.  We were about 4 months early because for the first time in her entire life she got a nosebleed.  And then a second.  And then she fell asleep on the stairs. And then her teacher sent home a note about how abnormally tired she was.  I didn't say anything because I knew I was being ridiculous but if there is anything that could break us right now it would be leukemia.  Fiscally, emotionally…  I know people find a way, but bankrupt, unemployed, and heavily medicated to stop the shrieking was not on my bucket list.  (Her labs were fine so I was being silly and also, YAY!  Also?  I wonder how other people live when they don't feel constantly stalked by Death.  I assume they're happier, yes?)).

- The weekend was chock full of parties and playdates and swim lessons.  All great stuff but Matt had to work both days and my daughter spent all of Saturday demonstrating her very best elopement techniques near various busy streets so by Sunday I was looking forward to going back to work.  Hyperventilating over my mammoth corporation's money is exponentially easier than keeping my small child off the neighbor's front bumper.

- I took another half day yesterday to get a mammogram and Girl Check.  I'm sorry, I know you must be jealous of my lollygagging ways, but please note this is not the wrinkle-free, sag-free, mid-30s baseline "practice" mammogram.  Shit's gettin' real, yo.

- Many years ago I wrote this post about meeting my friend RK for the first time.  I opened with a line I was sure, ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN, came from a Mid-East class I took in school.  Except I've been watching old West Wing episodes at night because I don't have the emotional energy to invest in anything new and….  I am full of crap.  It was President Bartlett.  I'm sure Aaron Sorkin and/or my college prof were not the first people to have stumbled into this bit of wisdom but I now have the highly uncomfortable feeling that MY stumbling into said bit of wisdom did not come courtesy of my Stafford loans.  Since pretty much everything I know or believe seems to have originated with the WW series, I'm wondering if I could get my tuition back, please?

- I am the heaviest I've ever been, including those immediate postpartum days, and despite all the love yourself/don't buy into the media hype bullshit I'm full of self-loathing.  I have not suddenly taken to eating pans full of brownies by myself in the closet (though that is enticing), leaving age, stress, and the slow creep of the western civilization to blame.

- Compounding that fun is an epic, albeit self-diagnosed case of plantar fasciitis. Nothing starts my day of better than getting up out of bed and nearly collapsing to the floor.  Nothing helps fight Middle Age Spread than being unable to workout because my feet hurt because they're carrying too many pounds, preventing me from working out to lose said pounds.  Feeling young and vibrant I am not.

- I did sign up for a cheapie Parks & Rec yoga class. Matt might kill me for sneaking off twice a week but it would be soooo much worse if I didn't.  Because while I'm fairly certain this is Yoga Lite and it's not even challenging for a yoga-novice like me, it is amazingly relaxing and I leave feeling much less creaky.  I'm also leaving in that gorgeous late afternoon light amid all the spring bulbs my tax dollars bought, and it's just blissful.

- On my 2nd or 3rd session I'm pretty sure I fell asleep during the ending meditation bit.  I jerked awake and everyone else was already sitting up and the teacher was saying her goodbyes.  I think I should have been embarrassed but… it was weirdly nice.
And on that note I'm off to bed!

Query, and Friends over Forty

Would be weird if I actually befriended The Girl’s SpEd teacher?   Like not just “friendly,” but meet for coffee after hours?  She really is awesome and is one of those rare, rare people who seems to like me too, and I think she just accepted my casual invite/bribe to chat about ESY.  At Panera.  On Tuesday.  

It IS, however, entirely possible she just likes free coffee.   

I hit it off with one of The Boy’s teachers a couple years but she got weird when I invited her to a bunco group (Bunco, for the uninitiated, is the mid-west's excuse for a bunch of SAHMs to get together and drink too much.  There is occasionally dice involved.)  In retrospect she had good instincts, since I dropped out shortly thereafter myself.  If you can’t click with anyone over a bottle or two of wine there is no hope.  These are not the people you're looking for. 

I'm sure I was mostly to blame since I'm never at my most adorable when confronting large and less than warm groups of people I don't know, so no fault of theirs for not finding me fabulous, but it just wasn't happening.  Even with the wine.  Did I mention the wine?  It didn't help.  

Ever since I’ve had it in my head that the social mingling of parents & school staff is frowned upon.  It probably is.  The potential conflicts could be legion.  Especially if you spend a little time with them and then decide you don't care for them that much after all?  Have you ever hit it off with a mom and tried to  expand into a couples' dinner and then you find out the couple bicker all night and/or over-share their bedroom fetishes?  

Yikes. 

But still.  Making friends as a grown up is hard, especially for the socially awkward an introvert.  I have been blessed by several very dear friends and made more than I could've hoped for through this space.  (Most of whom I'm excited to see this summer at the NDSC conference!  Whoot!)

But as loved as I feel in general I don't think I can say I'm not hiring - any good company will snatch up quality people, independent of staffing levels, right?  

So.  

I guess I'm getting coffee on Tuesday!?

(yikes!)

An Ode to the Convention

[I wrote this for our local Down syndrome group's blog here; just re-posting for my own records. 
Carry on... :) ]

My daughter was diagnosed with Down syndrome in utero, right after they found a massive hole in her heart.  I spent the last few months of my pregnancy reading everything I could find but I was never much one for groups so I stayed quiet on the message boards, never left any comments on the blogs I stumbled across, and was still blissfully Facebook free.  I was also distracted by the fact that several months hence someone was going to slice my child’s chest open – “community” isn’t on the radar when you’re busy studying survival statistics.

I was also a little alarmed by the vast spectrum of people out there – angry, religious, atheist, grieving, perky, happy, sad, you name it.  It was overwhelming and I doubted whether a little chromosome was reason enough to wade into that mess.  It took years before I started blogging myself and then another couple before I finally conceded to the lovely monstrosity that is Facebook.  Along the way I did latch on to a few like-minded moms but I didn’t attend the NDSC convention, the mother of all groups, until last year.  And I – an admitted introvert – was sold.  Hard.  And now I want to sell you:

First, there is a ton of information.  They do an awesome job of offering something for every age range and interest – from babies, to school, to independent living.  There are talks about finances, science and research, computer apps, and pretty much anything else you’d fancy.  Even if you can’t go every year, you should go just once to listen to Dr. Skotko talk about siblings and Libby Kumin on speech.  This isn’t information you can pick up in an internet article or a textbook, this is why and how, at its best.

This year, for example, after a surprising decision to send my girl to kindergarten early, I attended a talk on inclusion by Patti McVay and it was revelatory.  I understood it to be the preferred practice, understood the theory of peer modeling, and have cheered and consoled friends as they wrangled with their schools, but it wasn’t a reality for us yet and I remained a bit fuzzy on the logistics.  I worried about bullies and my girl ending up in the corner, ignored.  But I left that workshop weeping, full of hope, and I am NOT a crier.  This alone was worth the trip.

Second, it’s euphoric.  Just imagine a weekend surrounded by people who get it.  Who won’t accidently let slip the “R” word, who intuitively understand that kids come in all packages, and who only express pity when you tell them about that crazy shuttle ride, not when chatting about your child’s latest ups and, um, downs.  Plus, you can meet your computer friends in real life, turn them real friends, and it becomes much less weird to explain your social circle to the in laws.  And did I mention I’m not a people person?  If you normally like people, it might be even better.

Third, it’s a great opportunity for the kids.  We actually left mine with the grandparents this year because the kids’ camps fill up faster than I can plan, but ignore the hypocrisy.  Yes, inclusion is awesome – the other 362 days of the year. My daughter will learn to live in, navigate, and find happiness in this world just like her typical brother.  But I’m not naive enough to think it will always be easy for her.  I want to offer my daughter a fun weekend where she can relax and compare notes with her peers, complain about her over-protective parents, and cut loose on the dance floor, free of high school prom politics.  (Did I mention there was dancing?  There’s dancing!)  There’s an entirely separate track for self advocates over 15 – a space just for my girl and her friends.

There’s also a sibling track for 6^th graders and up.  As great as my two kids are together now, and as open as we try to be about it, I’m also not so naïve as to think my son might not want to touch base with other kids who have to sit in SLP waiting rooms.  He might even want to let off a little steam about his goofy parents or atypical sister, without it turning into A Thing.

Even if classes make you yawn and your kids never complain, last year I was waiting in the lobby for my husband when I saw a teenage boy do what teenage boys do the world over – he walked past a girl dressed to the nines for the dance, did an abrupt about face, walked up and introduced himself.  My husband arrived and we left to the sound of the girl giggling.  Both had Down syndrome.  My heart melted.

I know it can be expensive.  My husband works for an airline, we fly for free, and it’s still expensive.  But after the first year I swore I’d go even if meant three days of top ramen and park benches (happily for my back, we were able to avoid that this year).  And lucky for YOU, next year’s conference is in Indianapolis, a mere 4 hour drive from St. Louis.  If the budget looks daunting, don’t despair:

1. Skip the meal plan.  We’ve never done it.  Most hotels have mini-fridges now.  Swing by a grocery store and pick up a couple staples before you check in – yogurt, cereal, PB&J, top ramen, whatever floats your boat.
2. Skip the big award dinner.  We had a pizza party in our room that night instead.  Just as awesome, no crowds, no rubbery convention chicken.  The dance after is always free and there’s no dress code.  You see everything from shorts to prom dresses.
3. You don’t HAVE to stay in the designated hotel.  If you can find a cheaper hotel nearby, book it.  Someone else will invite you to their room for pizza and nobody will notice or care where you slept.
4. If you’re still skeptical, come the first year kidless, even spouseless, to check it out before you multiply your costs by a few mouths.  You’ll get the presenter’s power points as part of your fee and can report back.  Some of the presentations are even available by video later.
5. Split a room – there are always others traveling solo.  FB is great for cost sharing hotels, cabs, etc.

Community, information, and dancing – what’s not to love?  It’s a short drive next year, and who knows?  If you come, I may even invite you over for pizza.

There will be ponies at 9.

Last year The Boy's 7th birthday party was cancelled because he came down with a pestilence of some kind.  Which was unfortunate because Aunt Mary was in town and had helped me make several gallons of sangria for the party - which we tragically were then forced to drink ourselves.  It was moved to the following week, conveniently when my mom was in town, but the sangria was gone by then and I have a very, very strict 2 sangria gallon/month maximum.

Different sangria party.  Different month. Still awesome.

Two-ish years ago my husband was at the St. Louis airport when it was hit by a tornado.  Which I can still only marvel at.

This year, in one of those great confluences of freak luck and damn statistics, my son's birthday party was disrupted, again,

by a tornado, again,
that hit the St. Louis airport, again,
while Matt was... ok, he wasn't there again,
but he was about to be, to pick up a friend, until he took a look at the radar and hunkered with us in the basement for a while.  He left later but ended up getting stuck on a bridge for 4 hours because the tornado damage, turns out, had shut down the freeway.  He doesn't like bridges and called me every 15 minutes to inform me the bridge hadn't collapsed yet.  That was fun.

The Boy has an almost-summer birthday and cheap, lazy parents so we have so far managed to avoid the Friend Party.  I've thrown his class a holiday cookie party the last few years, and there are always a bunch of cousins at the family party so I've managed to not feel too guilty, but he finally asked and he's almost too old for the traditional 2-hour pizza-cake-shoo schtick, so we broke down this year.  He had almost carte blanche and, delirious with the freedom of it all, took almost a month to settle on a couple of besties and Dave & Buster's.  Which, if you've been spared that particular joy, is a bigger, less grimy, mouse-free version of Chuck E. Cheese - though they have a liquor license, so it's almost awesome (Flashing strobe lights and beer!  What could go wrong?).  This was to be a Very Big Deal, as only something built up in an almost-8 year old's head for almost 2 months can be. 

(The family party was also a Very Big Deal, because of mommy's awesome, newly found crafting skills, but more on that later).

The tornado was last Friday night and the party was the following day - it took a while Saturday morning to confirm the place was indeed shut down and then we had to deal with a Very Sad Boy.  This was one of those delicate parenting moments - people's homes were pulverized while my baby was Very Sad over what amounted to a schedule change - but kids can't learn empathy for others without owning their own feelings so there were lots of hugs & cuddles.  In retrospect we probably should have done something more civic minded and Life Lesson-ish, like bring coffee & donuts to the emergency workers, but we would have just been in the way and, well, I didn't want to get stuck on a bridge for four hours either.  Maybe we should have brought donuts to our local FD?  Darn it!  Hindsight!

We ended up going out to lunch with some friends, hit the park, and had a couple of those handy cousins come over later so he survived... and the party was rescheduled.  But when he turns 9?  The universe better show up with ponies and unicorns and fireworks.  And mommy may show up with some donuts for the FD too.
   

No, he's not about to jump.

I still want to start watermarking before I put up better pix...

Ha! Right, I'll get on that any day now.

The Daily Grind

...continues.  I was thisclose to being caught up when my co-worker quit this week. *sigh*  
Work-life balance is a myth. 

However, for pure entertainment purposes, I have four post-ettes ripped almost right from the headlines ...of that month old paper you haven't recycled yet.  I tell ya, it's almost just like CNN over here. 

Angelina Jolie gets a double mastectomy
This sparked quite a bit of conversation online but, although we have lots of other issues, breast cancer hasn't made an appearance in my near family.  Of course Gigi only had boys and my mom is an only child so my statistical group might be a little skewed, but let's not quibble.  So about a month ago I went to see my ob-gyn because the girls were sore, aching all the way down to the muscle and getting worse.  He said...      (*dramatic pause*)

I SHOULD DRINK LESS COFFEE.

(*sob*)
I'm not trying to make light of this and I know I should be grateful it's not anything real, but please, please, please don't take away my coffee.  Please?

Parents sue over their son's photo
I've thought off & on about the risks of putting my girl's picture out into the world but this space is tiny enough to avoid the creeps' radars and haven't done anything about it.  But I don't let the schools use or publish either kids' photo.  Because I am a hypocrite.  Of which I was again reminded when The Girl's daycare primary called a couple weeks ago to ask if I wanted her included in the end of year video.  I said no but thanked them for asking - I'm sure they were just as worried I'd flip out over the exclusion as the potential liability for breaching the 'no photo' form.  It's got to be tough for them to navigate a bunch of ferociously overly-sensitive parents.  Meanwhile I'm on a self imposed photo blog ban till I get this watermarking thing figured out.  Time to follow my own obscure, conflicting, Kafka-like rules. 

This post by a huge NDSS fundraiser, telling them off.
Unlike the NDSS, our local group’s new president has taken the ‘advocacy’ in their mission statement to heart and has been emailing updates on the Robert Ethan Saylor case, calls to contact state congressmen to preserve early intervention funding, and federal Reps on the seclusion/restraint bill.  Weirdly I can push, bully, and charm people on the phone all day at work without qualm, but I hate-hate-hate talking to anyone at home.  Cable people and babysitters are solely Matt’s responsibility.  But goaded into action by my local group, I summoned up all my emotional reserves and made whopping 1 minute phone calls to each of my Reps’ snarky staffers.  And then I signed up for this year’s Step Up walk [ours is a “Step Up,” not a Buddy Walk, so they don’t have to kick back any of their money to the NDSS] because I can’t complain about the national groups' colossal failures without supporting my group when it’s doing it right.  I’m not that much of a hypocrite.

Although I gave my friends and family exactly two weeks notice and of course everyone is booked. *sigh*  Baby steps, people, baby steps.

Manhattan women buy disability guides
I know you all heard about this, but it reminded me I never wrote about our last trip to Disney in January.  Sadly it will likely be literally the LAST trip, because just after we came home Disney abruptly killed our travel industry discount, both cars now need timing belts (and happy car fairy dust), and we (surprise!) didn't withhold nearly enough money last year for the IRS.  Boo.

Oh, wait...  So if we stand in line with the nice lady from New York and her family she'd pay for our trip?  We wouldn't have to talk to her, or anything, would we?  Hmmm.  

I'm joking!  (kind of.  maybe.  depends on the offer - what's our souvenir allowance?)

We were there to run Disney's half marathon but I brilliantly took the kids to the park the day before in awful, terrible, no good, very bad shoes.  My feet hurt by the end of the day and they hurt worse the next morning, right before I was supposed to run 13 miles on them.  I was lucky though, because I ran the whole way with this nice lady here and it was the first time I've been able to talk and run at the same time.  It was a personal worst, as far as time goes, and I whimpered for days after like I was walking on broken glass, but I didn't think you could have that much fun running.  It was awesome. 

(ms. see-tee-via!)

There were fireworks!  

Every race needs fireworks.

At one point in the park I was holding The Girl while Matt and The Boy were off procuring provisions.  A guy approached us, said my girl was gorgeous (of course!), and to dispel the potential creepiness, he waved over at his family, including an older boy with Ds, they waved back, and we all chuckled a bit.  Then he palmed his special needs pass like it was hot watch and asked if I knew what it was.  Then I really laughed and showed him ours.  Who knew?  There really IS a secret club card.  

I truly hope that the socialite doesn't screw it up for everyone else.  The first time we went I felt a little guilty because The Girl wasn't any more of a pill than any other 3 year old, but there's no way my almost-5 year old tornado could stand in line for an hour or two.  Not a chance.  Even the couple times the special needs line was long and we had to wait were not great - she's too big to hold for long, yelled to get out of her stroller, and kept trying to bolt thru the crowds.  I suppose this would be more persuasive for Disney if I didn't preempt my story by saying we were too poor to visit but we'll get back - one way or another!

Traveling (part one, hopefully. No promises because...obviously)

...Where were we?  Oh yes!  After 10 years of domestic isolation, Matt & I were happily forced to renew our passports.  Matt's oldest friend was getting married in Ireland and thanks to Matt's flight benefits & my dad, who agreed to mind both our two and four legged minions, we were able to make the trip.

Matt left early and was there for a full week, drinking his way across Eire in what might have been the longest bachelor party ever.  I played single parent for a few days without needing a plumber or ER room (success!) and didn't begrudge him the time - except when I had to reach him on his cell at $1/minute to sort through our new insurance options.  He had just finished a tour of the Jameson whiskey plant.  It was not a productive conversation.  Matt is, however, now an official Whiskey Taster with a Certificate to prove it, so if I can get my $5 back, we're all set to go buy the proverbial coffee and some aspirin.

My flight east was uneventful (aisle seat! no neighbors!) but Matt picked me up from the airport in his brand new rental car and immediately tried to pay for the trip by collecting my life insurance.

"Drive on the Left!

Leeeffftt!

LEEFFTT!"

Recovery

We hit a pub in Dublin that night to recover, met one of my dad's friends for breakfast the next morning, and then had exactly 32 seconds to sightsee before leaving for the west coast.  Lucky for us it was just long enough to catch a leprechaun.

Maybe?

The wedding was in an amazing 16th century castle, complete with its very own Irish Wolfhound.  There was a cocktail reception the first night, then everyone took off for more pub crawling.  We had great intentions to Party Across Europe but we'd skipped lunch so grabbed a bite in the oh-my-goodness-amazing hotel restaurant.  All motivation disappeared somewhere between the 4th and 5th course, and then they served something involving warm chocolate and Devonshire cream for dessert that was a breech of propriety to eat in public.  We didn't make it out that night.... but sadly because we were too full to move, not for any more interesting reasons.  Please don't revoke our passports!

The wedding itself was perfect - elegant, warm, sweet, funny, & full of love.  No white dresses though.  Theirs isn't my story to tell but they met just after Matt & I got married - which was a long, long, long time ago.  And while they didn't necessary need to travel across the pond to make it official (though I'm thrilled they did - Castles!  Wolfhounds!  Guinness!  On tap!), I find it pretty asinine they didn't have the option to do it at home.  The only thing undermining my marriage in the process was Matt's driving.  And maybe that chocolate dessert.

So there.  Lecture over.  Congratulations you two!

Oh, wait!  You knew that was too easy, right?  Naturally, there were shenanigans getting home.  We had to leave at 3o'clock the morning after the wedding, which somewhat limited the festivities, and I ended up dropping Matt off at one airport then driving cross-country on maybe 2 hours of sleep to get to a second airport.  Which all would have been fine, except I later learned my dear sweet spouse flew home in first class.  I?  I flew home in coach in the MIDDLE seat (of FIVE!) and then nearly got stranded in Philadelphia.  That part wasn't so good for the marriage either but the lifetime foot rubs will probably help. 

More recovery. 

Or, Gratuitous Booze shot

 Requisite Thatched Irish Roof Shot

 Requisite Armor in the Castle Shot

Completely non-Standard Massive Picture of a Dog in a Feather Boa, 

Hung mere feet away from the Requisite Castle Armor. 

Loved this place! 

Requisite Shot of the Rock Wall My Husband Nearly Drove us Into.

Of Tulle & Self Mockery

General update on the speech issues:  I requested an IEP meeting with the school, set for next Monday.  Conveniently scheduled at the same time as The Girl's 4 year check up which I just remembered I forgot to move, where I'm going to chat up her pediatrician and vomit up pour out all of my concerns, arguments, and counter-arguments.  Should be a fun week.

Editorial note:  All the photos in focus are my SIL's.  The blurry ones are mine.  It should be easy to sort out whose are whose.  

But let us talk of lighter things, of tulle, and cupcakes, mommy's domestic skills, and my confused half formed social agenda.

Oh yes, mom. Let's talk about THIS.

Plan A:
Many, many weekends ago we celebrated The Girl's fourth birthday.  I was responsible for the birthday cake and party theme.  We don't do anything fancy - balloons, streamers, and maybe some match-matchy party napkins.  Simple enough, right?  The Girl likes dolls, books, animals, and Signing Times.  Pick one, preferably one that doesn't involve kidnapping Rachel (of STime fame).  T-minus two weeks I was thinking a zoo theme.

I LOVE zoo animals!

(*cough*)

Plan B:
T-minus three days I was still thinking a zoo theme but I've hated every birthday cake we've ever bought from the two local bakeries.  They haven't even been Cakewrecks bad, which would have least provided conversational fodder, they've just been half-assed.  Then I remembered we had the female equivalent of the cupcake toppers we'd used for The Boy's pirate/Spongebob birthday AND, bonus, we could take all the money we would have dumped into a day old blob of frosting and buy a fancy hunk-o-beef, instead of the leather we usually make our guests gnaw.  Win-win!

Plan C:
T-minus two days my SIL mentions a friend of hers makes Cake Boss-level cakes.  I spend an hour drooling over her pretty website, then lose another day trying to track her down, because I'm nothing if not decisive, only to find out she was in Chicago.   She refused to fly home early for me.

Help!  It's pulling me in!

Plan B, again:
Fine.  Princesses it is.  T-minus 24 hours, Matt picks up the fancy hunk-o-beef and a couple party favors.  Except he comes home with Disney princess themed crap.  Gasp!  The Horror!  And this is where I have a hard time explaining why the generic princesses we already owned were acceptable, but Snow White and Jasmine are not.  Generic princesses still have the potential to spurn dissolute princes and grow up to be wise and generous ruling Queens (Virgin Queens, of course).  We already know Snow White just lounged around, waiting for a boy to fix things.  Right?  It wasn't even the Disney bit - yes, large, wasteful, multi-national company but, man, I do enjoy their parks.  Matt refused to return everything until I acknowledged this might not be the most rational argument I've ever made.

Looking queenly.

Plan B, Section II:
In laughing about my haphazard party planning skills at work, someone mentioned a tutu-tiara set they'd seen.  A TUTU!  WHY, OF COURSE!  If we're going to go off the deep end of gender stereotyping, let's go ALL IN.  I can too plan a pink princess party!  Except we're not going to buy the easy cheap one already made by a small child in a third world country, THAT part would be wrong.  Just in case this post does not make it clear, my domestic skills are limited.  Crafting is not included.  But I love a challenge and what's more hard core than making a tutu 20 minutes before the guests arrive?  [Answer:  pretty much anything].  Luckily my dear friend D and her craft-magic MIL came early.  Matt was otherwise occupied with the BBQ so I pulled out my stash of pink fluff and talked them into tying little knots for me.  At one point Matt came in to grab the pepper - I refused to make eye contact and told him to just keep walking.  There is nothing going on here that you need to know about.   He hates last minute.   

Where did my foot go, mom? 

All those do-it-yourself websites are right, it really does only take 20 minutes for a no sew tutu.  Three people and 20 minutes.  In case you're concerned, in order to correct the imbalance in the universe her 5 year party is going be biker chick themed.

"Can you BELIEVE what mom made me wear?"

And one more for the road:

Happy Birthday Little Girl

Your 3rd birthday was actually a week or so ago but we celebrated on Saturday.  I wanted this to be the Post to end all Posts but mere words cannot convey how very very lucky we are that you have graced us with your presence.  You have enlightened and blessed us all.  Happy Birthday Sweet One.

Now let's get this party started!

Where's the cake?
They promised me cake!

Fine.  If I can't have any cake yet,

I'll just sit in the hallway alone, eating crackers.

It's my party and I'll snack if I want to.

Socialize?

Who do you think you're talking to here?

Oh, you mean this guy?  He's ok, I guess.

...And then the balloon went *BOOM*!

It's not a party till we break out the cowboy hats.

Books are the Best Presents Ever.

...And then the bunny went *HOP*!

Finally!  Goodness, people, bring on the cake already!

NOW it's a party!

As Donkey says, a party ain't a party till somebody cries.

Ed:  Photo credit for #7 & 8 to my SIL.

BLOOM!

On Tuesday, before Auntie M left, we went to the Botanical Gardens.  Since there have been lots of other professional photos of flowers and garden trips on line lately (*cough*), I'll spare you my cheap camera/amateur attempts. 

Ah, hell - why not?  Here's one:

But more important are these two.  How do we feel about dressing twins in matching clothes? 

Matt, contemplating where these nice ladies could go in our backyard:

General running around, despite the heat

Want.  Along my fence.  Maybe some grape vines too. 
That would require actual gardening though. Huh.

The always fabulous Auntie M:

I love going when the lilies are in bloom - many have faintly scandalous sounding names:

We went back to the gardens again last night for a members-only picnic and music-thingy. 

Beautiful late afternoon light?  Check. 

Industrial sized bubble machine?  Check. 

Happy children?  Check. 

Extra camera batteries? 

Extra camera batteries?

...*DOH!* 

Before the camera died:

At one point my girl needed a diaper change so I was standing in the very crowded, very humid bathroom with a stinky child and 40# of gear, while waiting a questionably long time for the large stall to open up to use the diaper changing table therein.  That is the moment that a mom approached me and told me her 13 year old son had DS too.  And, bonus, we're in the same school district, which she loved.  Nice!  I'll admit I would have preferred she'd said hello while we were lolling about picturesquely on our blanket 10 minutes earlier, but I'm not complaining.  

The whole thing was also funny because I had not that very morning made a comment on Becca's blog that in a perfect world these interactions would not be so noteworthy, because those with disabilities would be as much a part of "mainstream" society (forgive the term) as various races/ethnicities/sexual persuasions are now (as compared to 60 years ago).  But it's not a perfect world - so I'm make note.  Because it's just fun to find "like".   

I also saw this at the gardens but this post is long enough, and I haven't decided what to say about it yet: