Two Little Rockstars

I’ve been thinking and pondering about what to write about our experience on Saturday. Of course, I can’t speak for everyone, but for me, it was something that is very difficult to put into words.

Going over my notes.

Photography by Karen Ledford

I stood before 300 people and told them stories about my little guys when they were young. Funny tales that I can look back on now & laugh, although those first years with two kids were some of the most difficult I’ve experienced. I don’t really have sad stories in me. I prefer to make people laugh, and I’m lucky that life has handed me more funny than sad. Never was I more reminded of this throughout this experience.

My mom is kind, funny, considerate…and she has always been a presence in my life. She and my dad have always supported me. They have always thought the best of me and wanted the best for me. Both of my parents have believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. They’ve stood by me through it all. They love my husband as if he were their own son. They adore my children and want to spend time with them as much as they can.

Like me, my mom was incredibly lucky to come from a loving, supportive family. I hope with my whole self that what has been passed down through her lineage has been passed on to me. I owe everything I am to my mom, and I’m thankful for her every day.

Thank you Ann for the ability to share this experience with others around the country, and with my hometown. Thank you to Erin, for asking me to be your partner in this labor of love. Above all, thank you to our lovely cast-our new friends-for telling your stories to us, for believing in Listen To Your Mother, and for making Saturday a memorable and wonderful evening.

Photography by Karen Ledford

Without further ado, I give you my piece, “Building Character”:

As a kid, I loved Calvin & Hobbes. When Calvin would be knee deep in a project that his dad wrangled him into or get into a sticky predicament, and he’d start to complain, Calvin’s dad would remind him that he was “building character.” We brought our oldest son home from the hospital a little over 7 years ago & we’ve been building our little characters ever since.

My husband and I marveled at everything our precious baby did. He could not have been more perfect. When Noel, our oldest, was barely 1, we found out we were expecting again. I surprised my husband, Elliott, with a positive pregnancy test on Father’s Day.  We remember it fondly when that holiday rolls around, and he reminds me that I should never surprise him like that again.

While we were still blissfully unaware of how two kids would turn our world on its ear, I mean, grow & fill our hearts with abundance, Noel learned to walk. One day, we were outside in our backyard, grinning to ourselves as Noel toddled around sniffing flowers and picking dandelions. He toddled toward us, treasures in hand, a giant toothy grin on his face. We smiled right back at our sweet boy, as he brought us…something that wasn’t a fistful of dandelions. This had…a tail. As he drew closer, we could see that it was a rat that a stray cat had deposited in our yard.

I screamed DROP IT! As my husband grabbed the nearest stick he could find to bat the DEAD RODENT out of his hand. Noel immediately burst into tears. The more we yelled and freaked out, the more upset noel got and the tighter his grip became. We eventually got the special gift from his hand and I ran him to the bath while I said over & over DON’T TOUCH ME! very calmly.

Just when you think you have it figured out, the universe will take the opportunity to point it’s finger at you and laugh. Especially if you’ve been smug. New parents: don’t brag about how great your first baby is. While Noel was a dream, Lennon was…I don’t want to call him a nightmare, exactly, but he was a challenging infant. He never slept, except in fitful catnaps, day & night, and he had reflux, so he cried a LOT.

One day we’d gotten him to sleep in a bouncer, and sat back in our living room to let him sleep ( you see, he sensed when I wasn’t around and would wake instantly if I wasn’t close by enough). Our plan was to let Noel play quietly while we snoozed on the couch for a few minutes. All was peaceful, for approximately 30 seconds. I heard Noel pitted-pattering around the room and peeked through my sleep deprived eyelids to see him standing over Lennon with two pan lids in his hands. In slow motion, I reached out to stop him, but it was too late. CRASH! Went the makeshift cymbals! Lennon began shrieking, and has slept with one eye open from that day on.

Another lesson I learned is that although your oldest may like babies, doesn’t mean that he will instantly fall in love with your new baby. I recall several times, when I’d try snapping photos of my two babies together. I’d place the baby gently on the toddler’s lap, and while I’m preparing to get a quick picture of this tranquil moment, Noel would stand up, dumping the baby on the floor. Noel- you have to tell me if you’re done holding Lennon! Okay, let’s try you putting your arm around him instead. No! That’s too tight! How about putting your hand on his leg?

Meanwhile, the baby is teetering over from his already precarious position, and the toddler is running off to play with a dust bunny he’s spied under his bed. The serene pictures I’d envisioned instead involve a tipped over baby, crying, a blur of green striped PJs, and, of course, the dust bunny.

The early years of motherhood were the Character Building years. Now that my boys are older, and I am wiser, have the beginnings of a wrinkled brow, and a lot of gray hair, I can safely say that I’ve got this. My children love each other and are each others preferred playmates, despite the occasional argument. They will let me take their picture together. They may make silly faces, but no one falls over. I also know that they’d only give me a dead rat as a gift if their grandfather put them up to it.

It has been a CRAZY few months. Can you believe I’m not having a human baby? No, but I’ve been heavily involved in something that’s almost as exciting…

And it’s all about to come to a peak this weekend. If you don’t already know, my friend, Erin and I have been knee deep in Listen To Your Mother, which will be at Unity Temple on the Plaza THIS Saturday. Are you freaking joking? I’m in shock that this thing that we’ve put months of work into is about to happen. And you know what? I’m not terrified.

The group we’ve put together for our show is just…indescribably cool. It’s wonderful to watch people come together-no more than strangers, and leave a room two hours later friends. Sisters. Sharing in something that is nothing less than magical. I can’t believe that we did this. We brought these people together, and we’re about to wave our wands and bring it to life. If you can come to the show, I hope you will. I hope you fall in love with the stories. I hope you see the power of words. I hope you see and feel the common bond that we all share, as a community, as parents, as humans. It is truly something special.

This is Erin & I before our interview on The Midday Show!

*There are photos from our last read-through at Unity, but I had an awful headache and look sickly and dead. You don’t want to see those (of me, anyway).

I had a really sad conversation with a friend today. It left me sick to my stomach and wondering, “What can I do? What can I say?” So, I’m taking to my blog to tell you about it.

My friend’s son has Down Syndrome. He’s been at the same school, where most of his peers accept him, embrace him, and treat him as an equal. These kids do not have disabilities. They’ve invited him to be on their basketball team and want to include him. One of his friends has decided that when he’s older, he’s opening a school for special needs kids, and wants my friend’s son to be employed there. Most of these kids have known him since Kindergarten, where he was welcomed into a mainstream classroom at an inclusive school. Wonderful, right?

Wonderful, until you consider those that haven’t known him for years, and are openly averse to his very presence. Wonderful, until you consider people giving him dirty looks, or ridiculing his parents because he may not always wash his hands, or eats sloppily (both of my kids eat like pigs, and have no disabilities). Wonderful, until you consider that when on a vacation, he wasn’t as agile as others in some tunnels in a museum display, and children and adults alike stepped on him and tried to kick him out of their way.

My kids have always known what Down Syndrome is-they have a cousin who has it also. When they were younger, they’d say things like, “Hannah doesn’t talk to me.” We would explain that Hannah has a hard time communicating like we do, because she has Down’s. We explained she might be hard to understand when she did talk. We also made sure that they knew that she was to be treated no differently because of these things. Perhaps seeing someone regularly that was different from them made it easier for us to give our kids these tools, perhaps not. Regardless, our kids have known for a long time that some people didn’t look like them. Or learn like them. Or talk like them. It didn’t matter though, those people were still people, to be loved, and treated with respect, just like they would treat anyone else.

So…why isn’t everyone teaching their children these lessons? Why should my friend have to watch her son looked at with disdain because he does things differently? Because he doesn’t learn things as easily? Because he may disrupt class once in a while, or forget to wash his hands? Why haven’t some children learned that some people are different, and that it’s okay? Where are their parents? Why have they not been taught these VERY important lessons?

Parents: don’t shield your children from people with special needs. Don’t be scared to have conversations about it. Don’t be frightened of what you don’t know. Educate yourself and your kids. We can’t and won’t wish people like my friend’s son away. Disabilities are no longer something that we leave others to deal with. We no longer send them to a home and hope that no one remembers that you’re the family with a special needs child. No. We, as compassionate people, teach one another about love and acceptance, and learn to embrace each other’s differences…because chances are, something is different about you too.

A couple of years ago, my good friend, Steph, hosted Listen To Your Mother in her then-home town of Valpariso, Indiana. I was intrigued. What was this? I knew of Ann Imig (National Director of LTYM) through a small blogging get together that a lot of my Midwest friends had attended, but beyond that, I didn’t know much about this endeavor that has become a force in the blogging world and in 24 cities around the US.

Blogging is a weird and wonderful thing. Particularly in the “olden days”, blogging is a community, and some of these community members were, and still are, dear friends, although we have always been spread far and wide throughout the country. Listen To Your Mother, to me, brings this community together, in each city that is participating, and to the blogging community at large. It’s a night where we can hear one anther’s stories of motherhood, and share laughter, tears, and those “Me Too” moments.

Erin and I are new to the LTYM scene, but we are passionate about our community, our words, and those of our cast. Bringing this show to Kansas City is a labor of love. We are looking forward to sharing this night with you.

Want the skinny on our show (May 11, Unity Temple on the Plaza, 7 PM)? Find out all the details and how to buy tickets here. We hope to see you in the audience!

I originally wrote this as my Listen To Your Mother submission. I have since changed my mind, as I wanted to share something a bit more light-hearted & comedic with the KC audience. I still feel like this has it’s place, here, in print.

I have snapshots in my mind of moments with my grandma. I loved her dearly, and adored spending time with her. My grandmother, Neena, as we all called her, always had the refrigerator loaded in anticipation of my arrival- all the favorites-ice cream, oranges, hamburgers or home made fried chicken. She would let me watch as much cable TV as I wanted: Golden Girls and Dallas at night, Pinwheel on Nickelodeon in the morning.
She would get on the floor and play board games, cards, & dolls, even though it wasn’t easy for her to get back up, after broken back bones and a hip. We’d take special trips to McDonald’s, and she’d always trade me her Quarter Pounder for my Happy Meal Cheeeseburger.
She would light up at the sight of any of her children & grandchildren, and smiled from ear to ear when all of her tribe was together, usually for a holiday or birthday.
Sadly, my Neena, one of my favorite people in the world, and Queen of grandmothers, passed away when my oldest, Noel, was just 6 weeks old. Living in another city, they never had the opportunity to meet.
Several years back, when my sons, Noel & Lennon, were 2 & 4, we decided to move our family to Kansas City, where I grew up, and where my parents still lived. Still in the same Brookside home that I grew up in. One month we were visiting, and 8 weeks later, we rented our Texas home out & moved to a house about 2 miles from my parents.
Kansas City was where we belonged – I knew it deep inside me.
Now, my boys have lots and lots of time to spend with their own Neena. Just this week, they went to their Neena and Grandpa’s for a sleepover. Neena let them watch as much Johnny Test as they wanted (and probably another program that they all pinky swore
they wouldn’t tell mom & dad about). They had McDonald’s for dinner, then went to the grocery store for Lunchables & ice cream – rare treats in our home. She probably got on the floor and played with cars or Hex Bugs, even though it’s not easy for her to get up, after breaking her ankle late last year.
Tonight we went to my parents home for a birthday dinner. When she opened the door to let her grandsons in, she beamed. When I sat next to her, as she talked and joked with everyone, she smiled from ear to ear.
Why we were so compelled to pack a 20 zillion foot U-Haul, a dog & 2 young boys up to be in Kansas City, I’ll never know, but I’m so grateful that my children will cherish these memories of their Neena. And they are so lucky that she learned how to be a grandparent from the best.
This is dedicated to my grandmother, Lois Logan, who passed away 7 years ago yesterday, on St. Patrick’s Day. We still miss her every day.

I remember the first time I was in a speech contest in 7th grade. I has chosen to recite “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day”. My mom had helped me pick it, and I just knew it would be a winner.

I was feeling confident. I was taking home a trophy that day. A few of us sat in a classroom at a neighborhood Catholic school and waited to start. The first girl got up to perform.

“I went to sleep with gum in my mouth, and now there’s gum in my hair…” she began.

Yep…we were performing the same thing. My mind raced. How could this be happening? Before I knew it, she was done.

She nailed it.

Inexplicably, I raised my hand to go next. Right after her. Why I did this, I will never know. I started. I forgot my lines. I fumbled through the whole thing, still reeling from the fact that SOMEONE ELSE READ MY SAME PIECE AND HOW THE HELL COULD SHE BE AS CLEVER AS ME AND THIS SUCKS…and I somehow made it to the end.

I didn’t make it to the next round.

I remember the comment sheet from the lady that “graded” us. It said something to the effect of “Bonehead move to go right after the first person that did your same piece. Boo. LOSER.” Okay, so that isn’t EXACTLY what it said, but that was how it made me feel.

The girl that performed “Alexander” also took home a 2nd place trophy that day. The book was a winner. Just not when I performed it.

I’ve never been one that loved getting up in front of a group of people and speak, but this event sealed the deal. Stage fright by the boatload.

I’d like to change that, maybe. When our Listen To Your Mother show happens, I might be reading in the performance. I might not. I have a few things I’d like to say about Motherhood. I have an opportunity to overcome my stage fright and read my own material (and even though I have no confidence in my own writing, other people say I’m okay at it).

I might just do it. Will you??

Listen To Your Mother-Kansas City will be at Unity Temple on the Plaza on May 11, 2013 at 7 PM. Listen To Your Mother is a national series of live readings by local bloggers and writers celebrating motherhood and Mother’s Day. We will give 10% of our proceeds to The Rose Brooks Center. Questions? Contact me!

I’ve been counting down the days in my head, not reminding the boys of when they will go back to school. Today was the day. The break was nice. It was calm and relaxed, without plans or people to meet or deadlines. It snowed. Twice. We played with our neighbors in the snow, went sledding, played too much Wii, and watched too much TV. This is my idea of a true break-just being together and regrouping.

Everyone likes school, but there are days when going is hard, especially after a two week brain vacation. Both kids were a little sad, and admittedly, I was too. I like having them near me, even if it means that I work while they entertain themselves. Yes, they fight. Their relationship is not perfect, but a good majority of the time, they fill the part of brother and best friend-something that they only understand. I enjoy watching them together, hoping to myself that their relationship will always be this strong.

I reminded them (and myself) that it was a two day week and the weekend would be here before they knew it. I took them to their classrooms and left, alone.

And I felt very alone.

I came home and began to work, and the “what ifs” began creeping in. Something I hadn’t felt since…the last time I took them to school and felt, for the first time, doubt that they are safe. And this feeling of helplessness totally sucks.

But, I have to trust. I have to trust myself and my husband, that we can make good decisions for our children. That we will surround them with people that are also looking out for them and will protect them as if they were their own. That bad things still happen, despite every single thing we do to prevent it. But we also have to live-and not a life in fear of the “what ifs”. The best thing we can do, in the face of bad, is continue to LIVE.