Where will this plane land?

When it's Hadley's turn to say our family prayer, she often asks for something that may surprise you. It doesn't surprise me, though. I know Hadley. She used to pray that Heavenly Father would send her a sister. Now that she's wrapped up that request, she's added one more. "Please bless that my baby sister will be deaf like me."

Reminiscing... when I was younger, my siblings told me I was adopted because I was the only one with green eyes. I hated that. I wanted blue eyes like the rest of them. Ironically, as they've aged, some of their eyes have turned green. Ha. So there. But that funny feeling of wondering if, maybe, I really was adopted stuck with me. Nobody likes to be the odd man out. Nobody wants to not fit in. Unique, special, different...all cool ideas until you are the one struggling with the oddity. Hopefully we all grow up and accept who we are, differences and all. But right now, for my nine year old daughter, she would love to have somebody "deaf like me" in our family. And I understand as completely as I can with my limited understanding of what it means to be different.

A few months after Hadley was born, someone gave me this story and its message has never left me:

WELCOME TO HOLLAND
byEmily Perl Kingsley.

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go.

Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

I remember desperately wanting to be in Italy with everyone else. I remember after MONTHS of work with Hadley, she could finally point to her nose when asked "Where's your nose?" She was almost two years old... and I proudly displayed this talent to a friend who promptly asked her 18 month old, "What's this?" and the child responded, "That's my elbow." Just like that, my heart broke and I wondered if I'd ever know what life was like in Italy.

Well, now I've been to both places and have tremendously enjoyed both. I love the Rembrandts and the tulips. I love the gondola rides and the Michelangelos. And now I have a few months left to wonder...where exactly will this plane land?

Secret confession: I'd sort of like to go to Holland again.

Nesting

Oh....what? Did I trick you? Did you think this was about how my swelling belly has caused me to organize or frantically clean my house? Nope. Not doing either. Just trying to stay low and avoid contractions. Just concentrating on not having this baby early.

We had one heck of a doozy of a wind storm here the other day and my poor, young trees didn't know quite what to do. One of them deposited this robin's nest, complete with scattered eggs, in the yard. Hadley and her pack of neighborhood girls rescued them and they have since been sitting under a lamp on her desk propped up by a waffle box and nestled in a little basket with a stuffed animal for company. She comes inside from playing periodically to rotate them slightly and gently (thanks, google, for the incubation tips). One of the neighbor girls left town for the weekend but she has dilligently called to check on the eggs. "No change, yet, " I tell her.

I'm secretly confused about my desired outcome. Do I want them to hatch? Um, no, not really. Who's going to regurgitate worms into their open beaks? Not me. But do I want my daughter to continue rotating these little eggs indefinitely until I finally have to break her heart and tell her they just aren't going to hatch? Or will the stench give them away before I have to spill the bad news? See what I mean? It's not really a good situation either way you look at it.

My favorite part...she told her friends they need a turn to look after the eggs because "these baby birds have worn me out!" So I guess now my neighbor can nest now.

And as for cleaning my house...that will wait, I'm sure.

crunchy on the outside...

but oh so sweet on the inside!

(The cookie and the man.)

About Stewart's favorite cookie: the official name is Chocolate Florentine. Around here, we just call it "The Cookie". As in...once I made it, it was the only cookie for my guy.




And here's why I think you really can sum up my sweetie by his favorite sweet.

I dated and knew Stewart for a long time before we got married. I never saw him cry. I tried to give him lots of occasions that were tear worthy but to no avail. Nothing. I tried breaking up with him. Nope. Not one salty drop. I thought maybe our wedding day would bring some tears to his eyes. They didn't even water. Hmph. After four years of marriage, lots of screaming fights, and a new baby, it finally happened. I saw him cry.

The moment came when he had to call his best friend to tell him that our baby girl was deaf. Up until that moment, I had seen a lot of the "crunchy on the outside" but not as much of the "sweet on the inside".

Fatherhood.

Once those tears finally made their appearance, I got to see them a little more often. When he left for Iraq, more tears. When he came home, tears again. When our baby boys were in the NICU, lots of tears.

The real truth, though, is that the tears are not a measure of his sweetness. Being a daddy just brought it out in him. I always knew he would be an amazing father but just like everything else Stewart does, he exceeded my expectations in every possible way.

So Happy Father's Day. I'm grateful for all of the crunchy because it makes the sweet that much sweeter. We love you!

hi girl!

We're practing for our baby girl.

What do you think? Doesn't he make a pretty little girl? And I do hope so because I think number 4 looks like him. Am I right or just imagining things?

Summer Blues

Yes, we've got the blues here! But not in a bad way. It seems like only yesterday that her bedroom was decked out in pink, she wore pink cowboy boots, and loved Sleeping Beauty. Not anymore. Blue is the only way to go for this girl! Oh, well. Blue is good, too. (Go cougars!)

As for the blue cast... it seems that field day is a very dangerous thing at the elementary school. And it seems that the potato sack races are quite treacherous. Oh, yes, and doing the potato sack races backwards is a broken arm waiting to happen!

Did you know they make casts waterproof now? It hasn't slowed her down much at all this summer. She still plays softball and has even gotten a few hits with the cast on. She rides her bike and scooter, swims, slips and slides, and the works. She did give me a dirty look a few days ago when I found her putting her wrist guards on top of her cast in order to go rollerblading.

"But, Mom! Why not?" Oh, I don't know. I guess I'm just overprotective. Not overprotective like going to the school board and insisting that field day be done away with forever. I'm sure somebody else's mom will take care of that before too long, though. Can't you just hear the whirrrrrr of the helicopters every time you go to the elementary school?

And here at our house, we only have four more days of "summer blues" and then the cast comes off. At that point I'll gladly let her back on her roller blades and we may even have a few potato sack races in our backyard. Backwards? Maybe!

Oh yes, we do live on the edge here!

This just in...skin care secret!

Spaghetti Facial.

I don't know why.

Does it feel good?

Smell good?

Or is it just fun?

I think I'll try it next time.

And then I'll let you know.

But really...

Look how small his pores are!

It seems to be working.