Naptime shenanigans, or things that make me smile

The kids finally headed back to school today after blizzard 2016, which means the return to a more normal routine. I picked Lina up from preschool at 11:30, we drove home, ate lunch, and then I put her down for a nap. I headed into my room to catch up on emails.

I think she had missed her toys, because instead of going straight to sleep, I heard her talking quietly and rustling around. After quite a while of this, I thought I’d better go settle her back into bed. As I walked across the hall, I heard a pause, then rapid footsteps, then the squeak of her bed springs. As I opened the door, I caught her trying to shove a book under her pillow. She gave me a wide-eyed look.

Why am I telling this story? It’s no big deal, I know: just normal three-year-old stuff. But that’s the thing. It’s normal three-year-old stuff. To me, that experience represents exactly what a kid her age should be doing, and I can’t tell you how it made me (secretly) smile. When Lina was first born, I didn’t fully appreciate how much the “normal kid stuff” would mean, and the joy I would get from watching my girl lead her boisterous, everyday life.

I suppose that’s one of those things they don’t tell you when they deliver a diagnosis.

Nashville blizzard!

I am super behind on posting Christmas and New Year’s pictures, but I just can’t let today pass without dumping my photos of Nashville’s epic snow day. As of 3:30 this afternoon, we had 6-7 inches of beautiful, powdery stuff in our yard, and it’s still falling at 10 p.m. Corin and I spent most of the day outdoors, except for a couple-hour break midday to cuddle up with a movie. Lina played some, too, and liked aspects of the experience. She did not enjoy any part of getting snow in her face: not an inopportune face plant, brother’s snow balls, or the wind that picked up this evening. Jon had to work most of the day but got in a few runs down our backyard hill on his snowboard before supper. We ended with homemade tomato soup and cornbread.

It was a magical, magical day.

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First thing in the morning

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For the record, this kid went sledding with the neighbors while mommy built the snowman.

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I named him Casper.

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Tasting snow

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Wearing the backpack she felt was necessary for the outing

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Lina, meet Casper; Casper, Lina.

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Heading down the street

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Not a John Wayne movie

For the second time in recent history on this blog, I am going to weigh in on a hot button political issue. In fact, I’m weighing in on the same hot button issue. I will try not to make this a habit, for those of you who avoid politics like the plague or who disagree vehemently with me and find this spoils the rest of the content for you. I promise, a nice Christmas/New Year’s post is coming.

But for now, I find I have something to say that I’m not hearing in other places. As I discussed in my earlier post, public discourse on the issue of gun violence is at a place of complete inanity. Lobby interests and political agendas are so deeply imbedded that we as a nation appear unable to seek real solutions. It is discouraging beyond belief to the many of us caught in the middle, who simply don’t want to live with a pervasive fear that we or someone we love might die by gun violence in what should be a safe place.

In that context, I’m going to address the argument that seems most common among those who disagree with any attempt to regulate access to guns. I commented on this thought from a friend on Facebook today, and I want to say up front that I approach this subject with respect for those who hold this view. I want to engage in thoughtful conversation, not shouted arguments. We get more than enough of that elsewhere.

Here’s the thought I hear so commonly expressed: “Criminals don’t care what the law says about guns. They will get guns any way they can. Gun regulation only affects law-abiding citizens who are attempting to protect themselves and their families. We keep making more hoops for good people to jump through while criminals continue to arm themselves illegally. Then we ban weapons in public places, which means people who follow the rules are guaranteed to be unarmed when the criminals ignore the rules, as they always do.”

I get this. There is logic in the argument. But I think it’s based on a misunderstanding – or at least an oversimplification – of human nature. This line of thinking assumes one very problematic fact: That there is clear delineation between “good guys” and “bad guys,” and everyone is one or the other. Life simply doesn’t work that way.

Let me explain. Take, for example, the law passed in Tennessee a while back that allows patrons to carry firearms into bars. The result is that bar customers are now armed in an environment where they are guaranteed to have impaired judgement and lowered inhibitions. Why would we do this? Even the most law-abiding citizens can make terrible, life-ending mistakes.

What happens when a previously law-abiding employee at a local business faces a series of extremely stressful events and, in a moment of extreme distress, suffers a mental break while also having access to a deadly weapon? Here in Nashville a few years back, a video from a high school student made local news when a teacher had some kind of breakdown and started screaming and throwing things, including a desk.

My friends, this world is not populated by “good people” and “bad people.” It’s populated by a few really evil people, a lot more with a record of really bad decisions, and even more imperfect, everyday people who, given the right set of circumstances, can make really terrible mistakes. We know we want to try to keep guns out of the hands of the first two groups, but what about that third group, which almost certainly includes you and me?

Law-abiding citizens do have a right to defend themselves. But how do we also deal with the reality that so often, having deadly weapons on hand dramatically increases the likelihood that inevitable problem situations will turn deadly?

These issues are not simple. I don’t write all this to beat anyone over the head. Instead, I hope to provoke thought and start conversations that allow for nuance and complexity. Let’s stop demonizing and oversimplifying. We are not extras in a John Wayne movie. We are complicated people living in very messy times. Once we start dealing with that reality, we will already be much further down the road to a solution.

Six days to Christmas and all is well

My son’s Christmas countdown tells me it is currently six days until Christmas. My radio, tuned to the local non-stop Christmas music station, agrees, as does my kitchen, currently overflowing with the remains of last week’s massive round of Christmas baking. We visited the Dickens Christmas festival in downtown Franklin last Sunday and have watched several of our favorite holiday movies. We’ve read as many versions of the nativity story as we can get our hands on. I am enjoying all these things while simultaneously remaining completely astonished that this year is drawing to a close.

So, here I am, finally posting a few pictures from our lovely Thanksgiving at the in-laws’ in Georgia.

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The spread

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These potatoes, y’all…

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The table

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The crew

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The family

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The handsomest grandpa around

There are times when it nearly takes my breath away, how fast life is passing and how quickly my children change. This year, Corin remembers nearly every detail of last Christmas and can look forward to holiday events with much more specific anticipation. He put a lot of the ornaments on the tree this year. He also understands more and more of the Christmas story. Lina still mostly ignores a lot of the preliminaries and really still prefers that we open gifts for her so she can get to the fun part of playing with whatever’s inside. She adores the holiday sweets, and her fairly new appreciation for babies makes the story of baby Jesus one she can relate to better than most. Today, she spontaneously said “Bible” for the first time, and then repeated it throughout the morning. Our Little People nativity set – given us by Aunt Lila several years ago – is always a big hit, and we will spend more time this next week acting out the story of Jesus’ birth in a way that hopefully brings it home a bit for the munchkins.

As an adult, you would think the endless repetition of the nativity story would get old. I find the opposite is true. Every year, the story has new meaning for me. This year, I’ve been struck by the universality of the gift of God’s Son: “Good news of great joy that will be for all the people.” We humans tend to put everyone on a worthiness scale. It has come home hard this year that God sent a Savior for everyone. I find myself asking, “What am I doing to bring God to people where they are?” It’s a hard question, and I wrestle with what that really looks like in my life. For now, I am thankful for the seasonal reminder of a boundless love that belongs to all of us.

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Singing and dancing to Christmas music

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Let this be the final straw

Fellow Americans, we need to talk.

It’s happened again. Yesterday’s mass shooting in San Bernardino, California was the 352nd in the U.S. in 2015. There have been more mass shootings than there have been days so far this year. This time, a public health facility that serves people with intellectual disabilities was targeted, for reasons that will never make any sense.

But here’s the thing: We are all culpable. This keeps happening, and we keep having the same ridiculous, entrenched arguments that incapacitate our nation and leave the door wide open for more senseless violence.

The public conversation is the same every time: It’s a gun control problem. No, it’s a mental health care problem. Politicians and the media line up to take a position on one side or the other. Everyone has a favorite hobby horse and a favorite line of defense. We hash and re-hash the same, tired debate and wonder why this keeps happening.

We can blame the media. We can blame politicians. But ultimately, we are to blame. We the people allow this to happen. We align with a particular political agenda and fall in step behind the rhetoric. We allow complex issues to be oversimplified into easily-packaged 60-second segments. We quickly regurgitate lines and arguments that resonate.

I am a fairly informed and intelligent citizen, but I don’t understand why this keeps happening. My guess is you don’t, either. I don’t think any of us really have a handle on what this disease is that’s eating away at the soul of our culture, stealing the lives of far too many innocent people.

Let’s stop pretending we have the answers. Let’s stop jumping on political bandwagons, shouting the same old lines at each other. Let’s have a discussion that acknowledges the truth: This is a complex problem that’s pretty unlikely to have one simple solution. Yes, we clearly are facing a mental health crisis, with no apparent idea how to address it. Let’s also admit that extremely deadly weapons are regularly ending up in the hands of people who shouldn’t have them, costing an unacceptable price in lives lost.

Let’s demand funding for research on gun violence so we have information instead of endless opinion. (See this article on why the CDC is not currently conducting that research.) Let’s fund serious mental health research and talk to serious people about practical solutions. Let’s acknowledge that solving this problem will likely cost money, and that we all have to have a part in that. (Emergency medical care and massive crisis response operations aren’t exactly free.)

I’m honestly not convinced we have the collective will to do this. Our nation is in a terrible place. We don’t seem able to work together to solve problems. We are very attached to our rhetoric and our hobby horses. Which is why I’m making this a very personal appeal: Put down that hobby horse. Step away from the rhetoric. Demand that your public representatives do the same. Let San Bernardino be the final straw. Let this be the event that galvanizes a nation to work together to find real answers.

Along the Trace

The kids were off school for Veterans’ Day last week, so we took a rare opportunity for a mid-week camping trip. We picked a humble little campground an hour-and-a-half drive down the Natchez Trace, a beautiful historic parkway that ends just a few miles from our home. We arrived in camp around bedtime and were snuggled into our sleeping bags in short order. Lina was awake some in the night, listening to dogs barking and marveling at the novelty of nestling between her sleepy parents, but overall, the night went pretty smoothly.

We woke to a crisp, brilliantly sunny morning. There are few things as perfect as a whole day with no schedule, no responsibilities and an open road to explore. We ate our pancakes, visited with the horses who shared our campground and loaded the car and began our leisurely meandering back up the Natchez Trace. Corin loved the opportunity to help choose our stops. We visited Laurel Hill Lake, traveled short portions of the original Trail of Tears, hunted for slag at the site of a historic steel furnace and visited the site where Meriwether Lewis is buried. We explored a waterfall and hiked part of a trail imaginatively named Devil’s Backbone (a key factor in its selection for Corin’s agenda). Corin soaked up the stories from history that inevitably arose from our explorations.

I will remember for a long time the feeling of that cool, bright, free day on the Natchez Trace.

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Good morning, sunshine.

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Digging through a historic slag pile

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Well, that’s one way to take a nap.

For the shared love of a girl

Back when I first started talking about the Buddy Walk, Laurie – you may remember being introduced to her family last August – contacted me to say they were thinking about making the trip to Tennessee to join us for the event this year. I was thrilled, and the planning commenced.

Unfortunately, their family has terrible luck with air travel. They got stranded in the airport for hours last year trying to get home, and this year, storms and horrible flooding swept through their area just as they prepared to leave and threw flight schedules into chaos. They finally arrived in Nashville 16 hours later than planned, meaning they were able to catch only the tail end of the Buddy Walk. The delay was very disappointing, but we honored their determination to get here by soaking everything we could from the too-short visit. That meant a couple fun outings, but mostly a lot of hanging out together.

This visit felt different than last time. We were more immediately comfortable with each other, and the kids are a year older and able to really play together. Watching them interact was the highlight for all of us, I think. I have wondered how they will relate to each other as they grow older. Andrew and Corin hit it off fantastically, and Claire and Lina adored each other.

There is no definition for the relationship our families have. This is the uncharted water we entered when we chose embryo donation as the path to our second child. In a sea of the unexpected, this relationship with Lina’s biological family is a gift. It probably sounds crazy to a lot of you, and it probably would have to an earlier version of myself. But now, Dan and Laurie and the kids are family, and we are so grateful to have them in our lives.

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Best we could do for a costume photo

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Bowling!

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Corin directing the ball after his roll

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Playing in the matching jammies requested and chosen ahead of time by Claire

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“Ring around the rosie…”

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“We all fall down!”

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And time for a break, with the requisite hair rubbing and finger sucking

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In closing, I’d like to share what Laurie posted last night about our weekend together. Some of you have seen it already, but it seems important to have the other side of this experience represented here, as part of this family story.

Every time I tell this story of how Dan and I donated a frozen embryo to a couple in Tennessee, I hear “oh what a gift! That was so generous of you!” And I never understand why people would say that. It never felt like giving a gift. It felt like a terribly painful decision to do the responsible and ethical thing while pulling all my heartstrings out of my body across three states. It felt like tons of tears and therapy. It was sleepwalking for months, looking for a baby in my sleep that I was afraid I had forgotten to take care of. My proudest accomplishment is being a mommy and it went against everything inside me to think of a blonde munchkin being raised in another family. Jon and Jolene are the ones who gave us a gift. Peace of mind that we did the right thing. Their willingness to share their lives with us has made this a million times easier. And they gave Claire and Andrew a sister. Even if she’s a sister that lives with her own family, they still get it. Andrew has a new friend in Lina’s big brother. He was too busy playing with Corin to let me take many photos of him, so this weekend felt like a bonding of the sisters. When the girls were playing ring-around-the-rosies and Claire told Lina “you’re my baby sister,” it’s when I knew this was also a gift that would keep on giving. Forever.

Why the Buddy Walk?

I have a lot on my mind, so bear with me over these next couple posts as I try to bring some order to my thoughts.

First, I want to talk more about the Buddy Walk. We had 33 people walk with Team Lina. I don’t have the words to express how much every one of you means to us. The support is incredible, not just for this moment, but because of what it means for the future, for Lina, for our family, for the thousands of other people in our community who have Down syndrome or love someone who does and for many more who will come after us.

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I’ve thought quite a bit the last few days about the question, “Why do we have the Buddy Walk?” The first and most obvious answer is that it serves as a rallying event for fundraising. This one event is the primary fundraiser for an entire year of programs and services. Trust me when I say, those services are really important.

From the moment parents receive a Down syndrome diagnosis for an unborn or newborn baby, they have access to balanced, accurate information and first-hand experiences, delivered by a loving community of people eager to embrace them and their new child. That child and his or her family then continue to have access to seminars, social activities, educational and advocacy resources, concrete help like hot meals delivered to hospital rooms during illness or surgery…  Our local organization is also often asked to provide a speaker and educational materials to school groups, community organizations, classes of special education teachers in training, medical professionals… This is the voice of real experience for those who teach, interact with and treat people with Down syndrome. Our organization joins others to advocate at the local, state and national level for public policies important to people with Down syndrome.

All of this requires organization, planning and funds. This year, the Down Syndrome Association of Middle Tennessee raised just over $200,000 in Buddy Walk fundraising. Those funds make a concrete difference in our family’s experience now and in how Lina will be viewed and the opportunities available to her in the future.

But there is more to the Buddy Walk. The family and friends who joined us this year will tell you it’s a huge celebration, so full of joy and camaraderie. This is an open event where we take time every year to shout to our community and the world, “Down syndrome is not sad. It is not something to be apologized for or hidden away. We celebrate loved ones with Down syndrome because of what they bring to our lives and to this community.” It is an opportunity to counter stereotypes, to model open-armed love and acceptance, to mark progress, to share in a powerful community of people who know what this love feels like. It’s joyful, because loving a person with Down syndrome is joyful. Yes, it can be hard. Love is always hard, because it leaves us vulnerable and requires tremendous sacrifice. But every person in that crowd of thousands knows it’s worth it, because real, bone-deep, unselfish love always is.

I dissolved into tears just once during the Buddy Walk. It was at the end of the walk, as Lina stopped to give high fives and hugs to a troupe of cheerleaders with special needs. They adored her, and she gave unquestioning affection in return.

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My tears could have been mistaken for ones of fear and pain, and if I’m honest, perhaps there was some of that in there somewhere; but mostly, I cried then and still cry when I remember it because of how perfectly beautiful it was. I know the world can be a very cruel place, but here, there is simple joy in a hug. I thank God for these moments, because my soul will never be the same.

Buddy Walk highlights

Today was amazing. I plan to write more later, but for now, i’ll leave just a few photo highlights.

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A huge thank you to everyone who came out today and to all those who donated to support this cause. It matters a very, very great deal, to us and to the more than 4,000 people who came out today to celebrate those we love with that extra chromosome.