Tough love is...well, tough.

My daughter is a Daisy Scout.  I currently have 200 boxes of Girl Scout cookies sitting in my dining room to prove it.  She enjoys scouts, and it's a great social activity for her.  Today, the scouts enjoyed their annual "Thinking Day"; they spent the morning learning about things related to this year's theme, Italy.  When I received the information for the event, I signed her up right away.  What a great, inexpensive weekend activity for her!  But, as the event drew closer, I began to realize the logistical issues that accompany a weekend event.  My hubby works most Saturday mornings, and today was no exception.  That left me to get three kids out of bed, dressed, fed, and out the door almost as early as we do through the week.  Ugh.  Add in the fact that they know it's Saturday, and we usually don't get up and go that early, and they were cranky.  It was loads of fun just getting them ready.  The boys lost their morning television and iPad privileges before 8:15am.

Oh, but the fun didn't stop there!

I asked the boys no less than 15 times to get their coats so we could go.  They refused, so we left without coats.  It was chilly this morning, but not freezing cold and not raining or snowing, so I figured I would teach them the importance of listening to my words without being too mean.  I was being stubborn; all too often we are late to events because I am dealing with the behavioral issues exhibited by my son with Down syndrome, and copied by his younger brother because apparently it's fun to make your mom's head explode.  I warned them that they would be cold if they didn't bring coats, yet they continued to dismiss my words, so we left.  I had to teach them a lesson.

When we arrived to the school where Thinking Day was held (right on time, for once!), my oldest son made quite a bit of noise about having to get out of the car without his coat.  I simply stated, "Mommy told you to bring your coat.  You did not listen.  We don't want your sister to be late.  Let's go."  Then I repeated that phrase, many times, until he reluctantly left the car.  He proceeded to wail, at the top of his lungs, "I'm freeeeeeezing!!!"...which, of course, led to staring by all the judgmental parents that have obviously never dealt with a child with special needs.  You could almost read it in their eyes: "How could she not put a coat on that poor child?!?"  Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately?), I'm getting more and more used to these glares, and my return glares have an obvious message back to them: "Mind your own damn business, and go suck an egg."

Totally not nice, I know.  But, go through this several times a week, and you lose your patience with those who seemingly judge how you react to this type of public tantrum.  I don't have time to address them more diplomatically, and in the heat of the moment, that's the look they get from me.  Based on how quickly they drop their eyes tells me that I'm getting through to them.

It shouldn't have to be that way.  All kids have tantrums, rough days, episodes in public that embarrass their parents.  Nobody needs an audience, or looks of pity, or strangers offering "words of wisdom" (yes, that's happened to me before...I almost bit my tongue in half trying not to tell them what I thought of their advice...).  Just let the parents deal with it; don't add to the incident.  That's not helping anybody.

Somehow, we made it back to the car, and before I could blink, the tantrum was over.  We made it home, the boys played well together, and before I knew it, we had to head back to pick up my daughter.  I was surprised (and a little smug!) when my boys immediately grabbed their coats when I told them it was time to go.  I did it!  I won a battle!!  If nothing else gets accomplished this weekend, I can take comfort in the fact that I got through to them: when Mom says to take your coat, do it, or be cold.

There will be many other times when the message does not get through so easily.  I will definitely refer back to this incident to remind myself that I can get through to them, and that I will do it regardless of how many dirty looks I get from people around us.

Confession

I am not Super Mom.

There, I said it.  No, I'm not fishing for compliments or trying to reaffirm my awesomeness.  I'm honestly telling you that I am not as strong and wonderful as everyone thinks I am.

Sure, I try to be.  And just like everyone else, I fall flat on my face more often than not.  I see how moms everywhere secretly try to outdo each other.  I'm on Pinterest.  I go to parties at my kids' schools.  One mom has a huge score with an adorable treat or craft, and all the sudden, she gets labeled Super Mom.

That is a scary and dangerous title to be given.

I have a feeling that most moms are more alike than different; everyone is just trying to be a "good mom".  Whatever that means.  To me, it means teaching my children that no matter what, they are loved.  It means being their parent and not necessarily their friend (that will probably come into play more later, as they get older).  It means teaching them to respect others (ALL others), use their manners, and to find the beauty in anything.  It means instilling values into them that will serve them well their entire lives: being kind, working hard, staying true to themselves.  It means advocating my ass off to ensure my child with Down syndrome gets what he needs (and will mean advocating for the other two if/when that time comes).  Of course, it also means teaching them to do their homework, clean their rooms, brush their teeth...all that basic parenting stuff.    I try to expose them to new cultural ideas, feed them organic vegetables, and keep the house spotless.  Actually, I stress out if they aren't getting those things in their daily routines.

Even if they get all that, though, I'm still not Super Mom.  I feed my kids Happy Meals.  I let them watch Sponge Bob.  Sometimes I give in to things I probably shouldn't, just so I get some peace and quiet.  I realize that some of you reading this probably have to stop and pick yourself up off the floor.  That's ok.  Judge me all you like, for deep down, I know you have some Mommy Secrets that you are not terribly proud of, and judging me just makes yourself feel a little better about those things.

I would encourage you, though, to come to terms with those issues.  It's ok.  Being a parent is totally a work in progress.  Nobody gets it "right" the first time, and what is "right" for you is not going to be "right" for me.  Stop comparing yourself to other parents, because that isn't fair to anybody.  As with everything else in the world, live and let live.  As long as your kids are loved (ok, and fed and clean and educated), then you are doing your job.  Let's put the Super Mom myth to rest, shall we?

Now, I'm off to treat my youngest to a sugary donut before we rush off to dance class and school.  That totally makes me Super Mom in his book...and since it's coming from him, I'll take it.

Spread the Word

Imagine being born with a characteristic over which you had no control: big feet, red hair, brown eyes.  Maybe you were born with one of these traits, or perhaps you have a child or family member who has one or all of these.  Now imagine hearing, on a regular basis, others use an offensive term based off one of those traits to ridicule someone else.  NOW imagine hearing other people defend their right to use such an awful term, and even go so far as telling you that you are being oversensitive to the word's usage.

Welcome to my world.

My oldest son was born over eight years ago with Down syndrome.  Every day, I have to hear or see some reference to the word "retard".  Today, Special Olympics and Best Buddies are hosting their annual campaign, Spread the Word to End the Word, to raise awareness of the hurt the "r-word" brings to individuals with developmental and intellectual disabilities.  Obviously, I am a huge supporter of this campaign; all it takes is one glance at my Facebook page to see that.  It goes beyond this one day, though.  I have made it a personal mission to spread awareness about the use of the "r-word", and the attitudes that surround it.

I won't pretend that I'm innocent and have never used this word, either in an attempt to be funny (calling someone a "retard" if they do something senseless) or to express discontent ("That store's return policy is so retarded!").  It's not something I'm proud of; in fact, my face still burns bright red when I think of how thoughtlessly I threw that word around in my youth.  I sincerely wish that someone had called me out on it.  Would it have been awkward?  Sure.  Embarrassing?  Absolutely!  But, I would have walked away having learned an important lesson: words hurt, even when said with absolutely no intention to offend someone.

The birth of my son quickly taught me that lesson.  There I was, a first time mom, meeting her son and hearing the doctor say "There is no easy way to say this: your son is retarded." Whoa, whoa, WHOA!   I was all kinds of drugged, having just had a c-section, but I can still remember the hot flash of anger I felt when I heard that word.  That doctor had no right to make that announcement to us, in that manner, and I hope that someone has expressed that to him by now.

Unfortunately, that was just the first of countless times I've heard that word and felt that anger.  Some people have told me that it's ok to use the word because it's still used in a "clinical setting".  Not only do we need to change that, but since I spend very little time in a clinical setting talking with people, that's not an excuse.  I've also heard people say that it's their constitutional right to use whatever language they choose.  True, it is.  But it's also my constitutional right to respond to your choices, and you can bet I'll call you out on it.  Some people are like I was, and just don't realize how powerful our words are, and the effect they can have on people when you don't even mean it.  Whatever the reason, it's time to make a change.

It all comes down to respect, and being kind and considerate to others.  Any parent, sibling, or friend wants their loved ones to be accepted and included.  If you didn't realize until now that the r-word is offensive, that's fine; start today and make a conscious decision to stop using this word.  Go to www.r-word.org and take the pledge.  Call your family and friends out on it if you hear them say it.  It doesn't have to be a big confrontation; simply start out by saying "I think you would want to know that your choice of words is offensive...", then explain why.  Throughout history, derogatory language has labeled individuals who were somehow different, and those terms did not go away without a fight.  Help us fight this by bringing awareness to everyone so that individuals affected by this word can get the respect they deserve.

Spread the word to end the word.  Not just today, but everyday.  When we respect everyone and care about how our actions affect others, we not only improve the world we live in, but we improve ourselves too.

An oldie but a goodie...

I have a huge head. Not as a result of an overactive ego, just a physically large head. Seems ironic and cruel that I love hats so much; I seem to be on a never ending quest to find a cute, stylish ladies’ hat that actually fits my head. Perhaps this is why I tend to take on so many projects: I want to figuratively “wear many hats”. My list of commitments seems overwhelming to most: stay-at-home-mom to three kids (although, we’re never actually at home), PTO Co-President, leadership representative with a direct sales company, board member, committee member, volunteer, fundraiser. I imagine each one of these as a different hat; some are bright with big feathers, others are more subdued. Perhaps my hardest earned hat is that of “advocate”; my oldest son has Down syndrome. This hat goes from conservative and understated to colorful and wild, depending on the day.

I advocate for my son so many levels. I work with his school to ensure he receives the proper education in an inclusive setting. I oversee his community activities to make sure he is treated as all the other children are treated. I watch him like a hawk on the playground or even in our neighborhood to make sure the other kids are including him in their games. As he gets older, I know it won’t get any easier; my advocacy efforts will focus on workplace equality, or making sure there is a place for him in continuing education opportunities. Sometimes I do these things gracefully and with a calm demeanor, while other times I am “that mom” who ends up taking out all the day’s frustrations on whatever issue is closest at hand with the awkward gusto of an irritated elephant. Either way, I get my point across…eventually. I like to consider myself a “pick your battles” kind of girl, but when it comes to advocating for my son, I will get my way. Patience is a good byproduct of advocacy, but not an easy learned lesson. For every “no” I hear, I have to revamp my argument and efforts until that “no” becomes a “yes”. It can be exhausting. I will do it, every time, if I truly believe that whatever it is I am fighting for will help Alex in any way. Small change or huge impact, I will do it.

I imagine my advocacy “hat” to be slightly tattered, and not as fancy as my other “hats”, but it is by far my favorite. I wear it proudly, and every time I see my son’s smile or hear his laugh, it mends itself and gives me strength to take on my next battle. And battle I will; you can bet your hat on it.

Stress Eaters Unite!

It's been a rough week.

Not necessarily this calendar week (it is only Wednesday), but I could have done without the last seven days.

I stay fairly involved in my children's schools and activities; mostly, to give back and help out when I can, but also (selfishly) to keep tabs on what might be going on.  Let's face it: if you are involved in an organization, you're bound to keep more on top of things than if you were just hanging on the edge of the action.  Volunteering is also a great way to meet new people, have adult conversations, and feel as though your world might revolve around something more than laundry and grocery shopping while the kids are off at school.  Whatever the motive, I find myself working with other adults, in various different circumstances.  Overall, it's an enjoyable experience, which is why I continue to do it.

Lately, though, it's been far from enjoyable.

I'm a realist; I know that not everything will be all sunshine and unicorns, all the time.  I understand that differences in opinion will arise.  However, I guess I just expect that when a difficult situation comes up, grown ups will act as grown ups, everything will get worked out, and we'll move on until we hit the next bump in the road.

And when that doesn't happen, I'll deal with the stress...apparently, by eating.  I'll eat chocolate.  Or donuts.  Or ice cream (I mean, seriously, have you tried the Magnum ice cream bars??  Don't bother with the minis, you'll only eat twice as many...).

I can always gauge my level of stress by the amount of crap I've eaten throughout the day...and let me tell you, the stress is off the charts right now.  When I stop to ponder it, it's embarrassing to think of what I've thrown down my gullet in the last week.  I can't even admit to it on my own blog.

Everyone has a vice, though, right?  Glass of wine, new shoes, manicure; all great ways to deal with stress.  But, those all take a little more effort than pulling through a drive through and snagging a donut after a particularly stressful phone call or email.  Ugh, no wonder my pants don't fit.

So, I guess I need some help...I need a better way to handle the stress in my life.  Unlike the cupcake sitting on my kitchen counter right now, the stress is not going to disappear anytime soon.

How do you deal with stress?  Any tips?  Want to hold me accountable for the better eating habits that I promise myself I'll keep every day when I get out of bed?

I'm listening...but speak up, because these potato chips are pretty crunchy.

Why I won't be watching the Oscars this year...

I love award shows.  The glamour, the glitz, the incessant "Who are you wearing??" to the "...and the Golden Globe/Grammy/Oscar goes to..." moments, clear to the follow up issue of People a few days later which rehashes the whole event.  It's a fun, mindless, guilty pleasure for me.  Now that my daughter is old enough to have an interest, she watches with me for a bit (although she gets bored and begins designing her own dresses, as she is quite certain she can do a better job than most of the designs she sees on the red carpet).  It's fun.  It's drama-free for me, because I'm not in any way involved, nor do the outcomes have any impact on my reality.

This year, though, it's a little different.

Several months ago, a friend of mine posted on my Facebook page that Seth MacFarlane would be hosting this year's Oscars.  My mind immediately started working (ok, I did pause for a HUGE eye roll...seriously, one of these days they're just gonna get stuck back in my head...); first of all, what a seemingly odd choice for a host (compared to past hosts, anyway), and secondly, UGH!!  This guy is relentless when it comes to abusing other people for laughs.  Having a child with Down syndrome, I am acutely aware of those who poke fun at individuals like my son to generate obnoxious humor.  This guy is a pro at it.

His weekly animated show has taken several hits at people with Down syndrome.  It's not even the use of the word "retarded", it's a blatant attack on those with Ds.  What kind of mind do you have to have to come up with "humor" like that?  I don't get it.  I never will.

After one of my frequent proclamations from my virtual soapbox (Facebook, in this case), a friend commented that although Mr MacFarlane does indeed make fun of people with Ds, he also makes fun of everyone else.  He went on to say that at least he makes fun of everybody.

I wanted to bang my head on the table after reading that.

Sure, I understand (and appreciate!) my friend's point.  I shouldn't take this type of thing so personally, because nobody is safe when it comes to the realms of this guy's "humor".  But, what gets me is WHY we allow this guy to continue to make a living making fun of anyone, regardless of the reason why he chooses to make them his next victim?

We are all aware of the bullying epidemic among our youth; we have seminars to teach us how to handle a bully, we assign a particular color to wear to symbolize our stance against bullying, we try to teach our kids to be kind to one another.  We cry at the violence and abuse that occurs when someone is bullied.  We pray that it doesn't happen to our own children, family, friends.  But then, apparently, some of us sit down to watch some TV, and flip on one of Mr MacFarlane's television shows or movies, and laugh as he shamelessly makes fun of the portrayals of innocent people.  Does that make sense to anyone?  Anyone??

What kind of message are we sending here, Mr MacFarlane?  Are you so perfect that you can make millions by treating others so poorly?  Wow, it must be nice to have that kind of perfection; however, if that's the attitude that comes from it, I will gladly revel in my imperfections.

So, here I am, up on my soapbox yet again, feeling pretty lonely because so many people are gearing up to watch the Oscars.  I refuse to do it.  I won't watch him.  Until we can all agree that this type of insensitive humor is not funny, but so very hurtful, then people like Mr MacFarlane will continue to do it.

Think about a misbehaving toddler.  Sure, it might be funny to see them tackle their older brother, but if we laugh at them, it only encourages that negative behavior, and somebody gets hurt.  This is the exact same thing.  This overgrown toddler has a bunch of people sitting around, watching and laughing at him, so he continues to do it, but at the expense of so many people.

And we reward him by putting him in the spotlight at the Oscars.  Fantastic.

"Who cares?", you might ask after reading this.  "One person isn't watching, but so many other people are."  Hopefully, some will read this and stop to think before watching the rest of the ceremony (you'll find out who wins tomorrow in the news, and by now, we've all seen the gowns and diamonds).  Maybe some will quit watching Mr MacFarlane's lame attempt at humor every week.  Maybe even some will join me on my soapbox and help shed some light on issues like this.

We can not expect bullying to go away, or awareness to rise, if we continue to reward "entertainers" like Seth MacFarlane.  Shame on you, ABC, for choosing this host.  Shame on all the advertisers that moved forward with their campaigns for the show.  My kid will never stop being a target for cheap entertainment when we can't be strong enough to take a stand.

Hey, it's gotta start somewhere...

You never know what will come out of his mouth...

My youngest son is just too funny.  He has been blessed with a dry, witty, unintentional sense of humor; this will probably get him in trouble at some point, but it should serve him well as an adult.  He can also be super funny without even trying, and those are probably some of my most favorite moments.

Some of his antics are somewhat peculiar; naming his peepee (as I call it...we're very technical around here!) William, for example.  It's not unusual, I've been told, for men to name their genitalia.  But, to do it at only three years old?  It made me raise an eyebrow, for sure.  I've decided that it just shows how creative his little mind is.

William doesn't get mentioned too often, but when he does, it's definitely a memorable moment.

My little guy just started a new school this past week, and was already invited to a birthday party.  He was very excited; he easily makes new friends, and what child doesn't want to go celebrate a birthday?  I was happy to see him bouncing around the party, talking with all the kids.  Inevitably, he needed a drink of water, so I tailed him out to the water fountain.  He's four now, and I want him to have a sense of independence, so I hung back a bit while he stood in line behind another boy at the fountain.  I overheard a cheerful exchange, started by my kiddo with a simple introduction, then a "What's your name?"  The other child answered: "William".  My ears perked up a bit.  "OH!  William?!?  That's my peepee's name!"

Faaaaaaaaaaaaantastic.

I hurried down the short hallway to the water fountain and immediately broke up the conversation before it could progress into a more descriptive explanation, swiftly changed the subject, and before too long we had returned to the birthday party...where I proceeded to text my husband, mom, and sister with the story and laugh to myself for the next hour.

It's not the first awkward moment, and it won't be the last.  I can't wait to tell him this story...maybe on his graduation day, or perhaps his wedding.  ;)