"Midget"-- Let's talk about this.

Here I am as a parent so passionate about what I am about to write that my stomach is in knots, my palms balmy and my neck hairs standing straight out.  In other words, it might be necessary to take a deep breath and gain some courage to keep going... but that is exactly what I am going to do.  Because, that's all I know.

Midget.

This word.  This word that I do not like.  This word that I wish didn't exist.  This word that causes pain,  creates insecurity and passes judgement.  This word, that less than one year ago today, never crossed my mind.  Fast forward time... it's in my mind and now I want it in yours.

Midget.

Hear it again because I want you to know about this word.  I didn't know... I honestly did not know this word was a derogatory word (meaning... it is considered a slur, condescending, hurtful, negative in connotation).  I didn't know because my life experiences up until last October did not lead me to a place where I had learned about this word.  I didn't know.  That doesn't mean I was using this word freely or ever, but it certainly wasn't on the same list as the n-word to describe someone of African-American descent or the r-word to describe someone with intellectual disabilities.  

Midget.

Listen.  Listen good and listen hard.  Add it to that list.  This word is just as offensive to people born with dwarfism as the other derogatory words named above are offensive to particular individuals.  And with that said, they should be offensive to all of us.  We know better than to say those words... and good for us for knowing better and putting an end to hate speech.  Thank God we can "spread the word to end the word."  Here's our word.  This word that I never thought about a short time ago.  Let me tell you... it's on my mind.  Is it on yours yet?

Midget.

People see me out and about with Lilah and now they are starting to ask questions about her littleness.  And, it is interesting to me that people want to know why.  Why is she so little?  And the truth is... I would want to know too if I were them.  Curiosity is a natural instinct that I understand.  I too am very curious in nature.  And I see nothing wrong with being curious and asking questions with the intention  to learn.  I welcome that.  So much.  And so...here is the "why" referring to this word: (besides the fact that it's derived from midge... a small-blood sucking insect,  and if that isn't rude enough) back a couple of hundred years ago it started out describing proportionately short-statured individuals.  It wasn't considered negative then.  That changed with society when those of short-stature were ridiculed for their size and put on public display with the intention of utter humiliation.  On purpose, public humiliation... for how they were born.  Ouch.  That happened.  And Thank God I am a mama in 2013 and not then, because the good Lord knows I would have gone ballistic on the townspeople and stoned them all to death if that were my baby up there.  Just sayin'.  So technically, what should a person born with dwarfism be referred to as?  Generally speaking I think Lilah would like to be referred to as... Lilah.  But I know there are times, especially when answering those questions that I do need to use terminology to talk about Lilah's diagnosis.  (I will just add that individuals in the Little People community feel differently about these various words...some like more than others... we are all still learning what's comfortable for each of us.)  But I will say, it is considered politically correct to use the words dwarf, little person, person of short-stature and person with dwarfism.

Midget.

Uggghhhhh, that word.  I hear it, I've heard it, I did nothing... I learned something last week.  Something important about being on the sidelines versus being in the game.  My husband asked me if I had heard about the controversy surrounding Cafe Press this past week.  (Click on Cafe Press to hear the whole story but in short, this company was creating products i.e. hats, coffee mugs, apparel... with slogans such as "Midgets were put on this planet for our amusement. Use them as you will.")  I told him I had, but that I am filling my mind with positivity and that I was choosing not to focus on the negative.  He was surprised at my answer and he said that it was a big victory for short-statured people (and for everyone) when the company decided to remove all these degrading products.  Yes, if others acted like me and sat on the sidelines and did nothing... who knows who could have been hurt, influenced and desensitized by the use of this word?  Thank God others were not like me and Thank God someone or someones did something.  Sitting on the sidelines is helping no one.  I learned this last week.  I am now in the game ready to play.

Midget.

Uh-huh... I have to address this word.  And I was thinking about this when I was watching ESPN with my husband a few weeks ago.  They were featuring a story about a man whose daughter had Down Syndrome.  He ran marathons with her and pushed this beautiful five year old every mile of every race.  When he was interviewed, they asked him about her.  He said lots of things that "hit" him but it was his love for her that "hit home" the most.  And then this... he said, "My biggest fear in life is that she is going to be called a retard."  He cried.  My heart broke into little pieces and I cried.  I thought about his statement.  A lot.  And I wondered if I shared the same fear... and after much thought, I realized... I don't.  I look at it like this... I will never be able to control what people say.  My daughter will most likely hear this word in her lifetime.  To her face.  On purpose.  It could happen.  My biggest fear is not that it could happen, it's that I have not prepared her for dealing with how to react.  That's my job as a parent.  But, it is also my job to educate and meet ignorances (intentional and unintentional) head on with knowledge.

Midget.

I am telling you in case you didn't already know about this word.  And if you didn't, it's ok. Really.  This is not me angry, not me blaming, not me pointing fingers, not me judging.  No.  And as a former teacher, you only know what you have been taught... so this is me teaching.  Now, this is me begging... go and be a teacher too.  If you know me, if you have read our story, if you have a place in your heart for my daughter and for her future, your future, your kids' future, the world's future... teach about this word.  I am a big believer that people are generally good.  And in my experience with Lilah, people are great.  Just knowing you are taking time to read this already tells me about your heart.  Thank you.  Stand up against this word and other hate words.  Teach your children that there is no place for such words in our society-- I already know you are.  Lead.  Lead with intention and by example.  Lead on purpose for a purpose. 

Midget.

Please.  This is one mama trying to reach out to others... Last week I wrote to average-height parents with a child born with dwarfism.  This week I am writing to the general public.  Perhaps I will be someone's only connection to dwarfism.  And I am hoping that's enough to be sensitive to this word.  Please hear me and help me... if this word is in your life-- remove it.  If it is on your Facebook page, if it is in a joke you tell, if you use it sarcastically to describe little things, if you are around someone who uses this word... do something about it.  

Midget.

What I want from you... yeah you.  Time to get in the game.  I am asking something really simple from you that can/will make a difference.  Here are three things you can do to help me, pick one or do all three: 1. Repost this blog on your Facebook page.  I guarantee, someone watching your feed is average height and needs to hear this message.  They need to know.  Be an influence.  Help the movement. 2. Comment on this post either in the comments here on the blog or on the Facebook link where you saw this post and type in these words: I promise. And what that means to me is that you promise you will be a part of the solution and not a part of the problem. 3. When you hear this word... think about my babygirl.  She is seven months old.  Think about it hitting her ears.  Think about how it would make her feel.  And why?  Why does she ever need to hear this word and be made fun of for her physical appearance?  For the way God made her?  Stand up.  Get in the game.  

Midget.

You heard it... it's in your mind.  Does it feel like I am name-calling, repeating it over and over like a bully would do?  Does it cut deeper and deeper each time your eyes graze over that word?  It's uncomfortable-- I'm glad.  That means... you are aware, you are sensitive, it doesn't feel good to keep hearing this word.  For any of us.  So I am taking it and crumpling it up and throwing it over my shoulder.  Who's with me?

    

Dear Friend...

It was me and Clay and my bump of a baby.  I was 33 weeks pregnant.  I had just finished my ultrasound and was waiting for the doctor to come back into the room.  Clay was watching the old school Mickey Mouse episodes on my phone.  You know, the ones that have some adult humor and aren't sooo PC.  The ones where I find myself giggling too.  Where Donald is extremely grumpy and Mickey Mouse talks in an even higher pitch.  And then the doctor walked in.  And I knew I was getting bad news by the way he walked past me and headed straight for his seat.  He looked me in the eye and said, "Your daughter has dwarfism."  And he set the Kleenex box on the counter right under my nose.

This is where my journey began.  With this news and any other news about your child, your parent, your friend... or even about you... the journey begins here.

This is where we all veer off in different directions.  How we handle the news and every day forward after that is what makes the story our own.

And with that said... here is my letter.  It is written for an average height mama and daddy who just found out their baby has dwarfism.  It is a letter I wish I had eight months ago.  It is a letter that we can all learn from.

Dear friend,

I know.  The word "dwarfism" is sitting in your throat like a lump that cannot be swallowed.  I know.  The sentence that informed you life would be different has been repeated over and over again in your mind like a broken record.  I know.  Your visions of the future are now blurry, vague and even scary.  I know.  You feel like you just got pushed into a new world that is very different from your own.  I know.  You fear judgement.  You fear ridicule.  You fear different.  I promise, I know.

This is what I will tell you... take a deep breath.  Like a really, really deep breath where you get all that extra air out of your lungs with a 10 second exhale.  Let yourself feel what you need to feel.  Grieve the baby that you imagined if you need to.  Cry and sob and cry some more.  And then repeat after me, "Everything is going to be ok."  Say this often.  Say it out loud.  Say it into the mirror.  Say it to your spouse.  Say it enough until you start to believe it.  Because... everything really is going to be ok.  I promise.

I understand because I was in your shoes.  I am an average height mama married to an average height man with an average height two year-old.  The word "dwarfism" wasn't even on my radar.  Until, I received the news at 33 weeks pregnant, that my baby girl would be born with achondroplasia.  And I was sad.  I was worried.  I was scared.  I understand because I was in your shoes.

And those feelings are natural... and expected.  And receiving news that your baby will be different is hard. 

But, I want to tell you something.  Something I figured out pretty quickly... hard doesn't always mean bad.  I knew this would be a journey for our family.  I knew it would change us and force us to open our minds.  I knew it would cause us to take a good look in the mirror and do some real soul searching.  No, those things aren't bad... just hard.  But isn't anything worth attaining require some sweat and tears?  Hmmmm... yes, I believe that to be true.

What I know now that I didn't know then: this journey would be the best thing that has ever happened to us.  To me.  To our family.  I allowed this journey to change me... to be better... to teach and lead by example... to make a difference... and I now consider myself one of the lucky ones.  It's kind of like that free "go to the head of the line" pass or the shortcut through the jolly jungle (or whatever it's called) in Candyland.  Well in this case, you get the shortcut to happiness if you allow yourself to understand how truly lucky and blessed you are.  And I will tell you something my doctor told me on the day he told me the news... "In a year from now, you will wish nothing is different." Trust me, when I first heard him say that I had a jaw-dropping, "What?!?" look on my face.  I thought, "Why would I ever think that?"  Well, I think it.  And I am hoping you do too.

I remember the questions... so many questions.  I remember googling.  And it was too much information, too difficult to read and sort through it and make sense of it all.  It was overwhelming.  Just know this... yes there are some increased risks with each type of dwarfism.  Choose an awesome doctor and an even better geneticist and come with your questions in hand.  And repeat, "Everything is going to be ok."  And if you do get overwhelmed... take a step back and just focus on one day at a time.    Keep your thoughts positive and the rest will follow.

Now when I think of my daughter, I think of her personality above anything else.  Yes, she is tiny.  Strangers kindly remind me this everyday and I smile and secretly thank God one more time for making her the way He wanted her.  But her tininess is just one of the many words used to describe her.  She is spunky.  She is determined.  She is smiley.  She is a mover and a shaker and I already know, she is going to do big things.  I have never seen so much ambition to do more, see more, be more in a seven-month old baby.  She loves life and I love that about her.

And so, my friend... do not be afraid or scared of your bright future.  You will come to see that different is so beautiful.  For if you had my perspective of time and a little bit of experience... you too would see that things are just as they should be.  And life is oh so sweet.  Your baby may be little... but never underestimate little.  Now, when I see a tiny little ant carrying 50 times his own weight... I get it.  You don't have to be big to live big.  Please teach this to your child.  To your family.  To your community.

Lastly, congratulations on your new baby (or toddler or however old your child may be).  Take advantage of this journey and take time at every step to really get the most out of each lesson, each moment, each opportunity to grow in the depths of your character.  And when you stumble, repeat, "Everything is going to be ok."  But really, just between us... it is going to be way better than ok.  It is going to be incredible.   

Photos by Brooke Aliceon Photography

Bloom

I have been intimidated to write this post... and in the past few weeks I have come to my computer and I just looked at it.  The blank page made more sense than the words in my head.  It's as if they have been playing chase and they are scattered all over the yard going in every direction and giggling hysterically when they are finally tagged.  My words have been laughing at me.   And I finally figured out why...

I have always compared our story to a journey.  Now I know what an incredible journey we are in for.  We have only begun this adventure last fall since learning of Lilah's diagnosis... and we fell right off that cliff begging and desperately searching for a way back up to the top.  But this was our new fate and hand-in-hand, we turned and saw the unknown.  We were scared.  Crazy scared.  We had no idea what we were in for, if we would succeed and if happiness could be found in this new place.  So, we took a few steps.  Yes, it was different.  A few more steps.  Ahhh... different isn't always bad.  A few more steps.  Starting to see the light.  Keep going.  Wow, different is lovely.  And even more steps.  Different is amazing.  Our journey is amazing.  I don't want to go back.  I am too in love with different.  I am too in love with our journey and this new view.

Here's one thing I have learned in the one million things I have learned...  the reason my words aren't all there yet... is because my journey is only just beginning.  I have only taken a relatively small number of steps when I think about how many steps I will hopefully take in my lifetime.  I have grown.  I have changed.  I am giddy like a school girl about all of these secrets I have unraveled in getting pushed off that cliff.  But when I try to articulate everything eloquently... I am pretty sure that I fail.  So for now, my words can still play chase and I will attempt to overcome the intimidation of writing about this very important topic that I so badly want to share in the perfect way:

Bloom... the party that will always be more than just a party to me.  It could simply be put that it was undoubtedly one of the best nights of my life.  Ever.

First, I have to give credit to the author of Bloom, Kelle Hampton.  I first fell in love with Kelle's daughter Nella shortly after reading her birth story over three years ago where Kelle so beautifully, honestly and bravely writes about the moments after learning of Nella's Down Syndrome diagnosis.  I read Bloom when I was pregnant with Lilah and I should just say, I was so moved.  Looking back, there was something different for me reading this book.  I actually had the thought, "I am reading this for a reason.  I don't know why yet... but someday I will understand."  A few months later when I learned Lilah would be born with dwarfism, I found myself referring to Bloom and thinking about Kelle and her experience.  It was my road map.  I saw Kelle's happy ending and I skipped a lot of heartache and went straight to that happy place.  Not to say that it wasn't hard... but oh how it saved me from deep pain.  Needless to say... having Kelle as a role model and a friend has been life-changing for me.  And in her book, she describes a party where her friends gathered and celebrated Nella and the first year of her life.  It was in reading this that I knew... I needed to celebrate my Lilah too.  I needed it for her.  I needed it for me.

And so the idea of a Bloom party was born.  So I called my best friend, Tina and said, "How?" How do we have a party with lots and lots of women from the community that don't know each other, don't necessarily know me that well and that will voluntarily take time out to celebrate this baby girl AND form new friendships AND serve as a safety net for each other.  Mamas lifting each other up, supporting, sharing, loving instead of judging, comparing and criticizing.  "How?"

So with many nights brainstorming and a DVD invitation explaining just that... we set forth to have a Bloom party in which we celebrate the concept of "Grow where you are planted."

{View DVD invitation here... }

And it went a little something like this:

Ladies...  fifty-five of them... coming into my house with smiles and hugs and lots of energy.  Ladies I haven't seen since I taught with them 7 years ago.  Ladies I haven't seen since our sorority days twelve years ago.  Ladies I have only met once.  Ladies that were my new neighbors.  Ladies that I haven't seen since high school a very long time ago.  They showed up.  To celebrate my sweet Lilah.  To celebrate differences.  To celebrate friendship.  They showed up.

My house was full.  There were ladies everywhere and every which way I turned I saw friendships being formed, stories shared... the net was starting.  I was beaming.  Tina said, "It's happening.  We're doing it."  Yes, indeed.

I clinked my glass and gathered everyone in the family room.  I had a story to share.  My story.  Lilah's story.  It was important to me to say, "Thank you."  Thank you for showing up.  Thank you for that e-mail... that letter... that text...that Facebook 'like'... that Instagram comment... that card... that prayer.  It meant something.  It helped me on my new path to have the confidence to keep going.  And in a world where do-gooding goes unnoticed... I needed to make sure it didn't.  It mattered to me.  And so, I wanted to encourage all to keep on being do-gooders because we are all making a difference... to someone.  Continue to lift each other up.  Continue to understand.  Continue to teach your children that different can be beautiful.

And in a room with fifty-five women... I knew there were fifty-five different journeys.  There were fifty-five different stories of how each and every one of us came to be at that moment.  And in this room... I knew there were stories of infertility, miscarriage, martial difficulties, clinical depression, loss of a loved one, special needs children, health-related problems, financial struggles and all of the above. But also in that room... I knew there were stories of hope, resilience, change, compassion, empathy, courage, positivity and love.  Lilah's story is representative of all of those stories.  About not just making lemonade out of lemons... it's about opening up a lemonade stand, scooping more sugar than necessary, using fancy glasses, striped straws with real lemon wedges and passing them out for free.  Because that, is what it's all about.

We split into small groups and in these groups we broke down our walls, let others in and cared about each other.  I saw smiling, laughing, tears, hugging, learning and sharing.  I saw shy ones open up and out-going ones listening.  I saw dreams being encouraged and helping hands formed.  I saw that safety net get stronger and stronger for everyone.

And then... the surprise of the night... Kelle skyped into our party.  That's right.  She was in our family room, on the big screen doing the same thing: laughing, sharing, tear-shedding, caring and loving.  It was such a highlight for me to see my inspiration get to inspire others right before my eyes.  And that she did.  Everyone... and I mean ev-ery-one... loved what Kelle had to say.  "She's so down-to-earth, I loved when she said..., that's so true when she talked about..."  A Bloom party with the original Bloomer.   Nailed it.

The sundae bar was open after Kelle spoke and I encouraged all the ladies to hang around and get to know each other even better.  The make-shift photo booth was being used, the champagne was still flowing, and the contact board was being filled up with all of those wanting to share their info.  Stories and more stories and more stories were shared throughout the night until finally... it was 2AM and it was me, Tina, my mom and Mandy (my high school girlfriend whom I shall just say, was a huge part of the party) around the dining room table having some big 'ol belly laughs rehashing the days when we were sporting the world's worst fashion decisions... pretty much ever, in all of history.  And it was perfect that it ended that way.  Kind of where it had started... with friendships way back long ago that are still alive and well today.  And in the spirit of making new friends and being the kind of friend that is always there... yep... perfect.

For it truly was one of the best nights of my life.  Seeing Lilah in her polka-dotted pink jammies making a cameo at the party, loving all of the attention letting anyone hold her and snuggle her... was just the absolute best.  This party was for you sweetie... I want the world to know that the lessons you have taught us about this one and only precious life have made us forever changed.  I continue to be humbled by the light you hold in your eyes, your ability to make people fall in love with you and the wisdom you carry in your soul.  I love you... my little birdie.

**For those of you who helped make this Bloom party possible... I cannot thank you enough.  My neighbor girls for rockin' it out and being the best hostesses ever... love you girls!  My mama for being in charge of all the food and for just being awesome and my neighbor Betsy, my cousin Ashley and my sister-in-law Janelle for helping me set-up.  To my bestie Tina... girl... you mean the world to me and this party so couldn't have happened without you.  Love you!  Kelle... what an addition you were to the party my friend, can't say enough how grateful I am that you were a part of it.  To Col for coming from San Diego and fitting this into your busy schedule.  To everyone who came... thank you so much for being a part of this night.

And for those of you who know me well... it wouldn't surprise you that we are doing a Bloom party round II.  Because when something is that great... it's just a shame not to share it.  I will give more details later and yes, you are invited.  And yes, it will be in Indianapolis this summer.  So, see you soon.

"From the deepest wounds, beauty finds a place to bloom..."

A Cape Away from Being a SuperMom

The last month has been Über-busy.  My husband has been traveling, family visiting, birthday parties, Easter dinner, playdates and the list goes on.  But in the midst of the business... I realized that we were not all that busy... just average busy.

It's me that's busy.  A busy body.  A mama.  A busy mama.  Rockin' it out.  Rockstar status. Superstar.  SuperMom.  (Do you like how my train of thought got me to the last title?  Exactly.)

That's right... I am acknowledging the fact that I am a SuperMom.  (And I am making this one word on purpose because Superman is one word and spell check doesn't fight me at all... and all he ever did was turn into a dude in a cool outfit that could fly and rescue the damsel in distress.  "Super"man wouldn't survive one day at home with the kids. So I'll deal with the spell check underlining my new word.)

(Reading to his fwwwends)

I came to this realization today... that I am a SuperMom... right after I picked up a dirty diaper between two toes and opened the garbage can lid by stepping on the pedal with the other foot and threw the diaper away... with my toes... while feeding a baby a bottle in my arms.   Oh, and I was on the phone.  I couldn't help but compare myself to Angelina Jolie in Mr. & Mr. Smith as she would scale a building and dust her curtains on her tippy tippy toes all in the same half hour... That was so me.

And then I realized it again when I made Clay's day by taking him and Lilah on an escalator ride.  And it was a ride because I parked the stroller next to the escalator in the swanky new food court at the upscale mall in town and carefully balanced Lilah in my arms while I bent over and picked up Clay.  I carried each child in one arm and steadied my clumsy-self on that dang escalator.  We went up.  And we went down.  And I even saw some people pointing at us... which pretty much just confirms that they had just witnessed super hero stuff-- I'm sure of it.

(Out for a drive)

And a temper tantrum later when Clay realized there was just going to be one escalator ride and the result left him on the floor flailing his arms and legs... and I felt my SuperMom status begin to wear off, we gather ourselves and make our way out to the car where in the midst of his cries he sneezes and lands that sneeze right in the nape of my neck creating a zerbert sound causing me to jump right out of my skin-- we both lost it and laughed so hard.  And I felt my SuperMom cape on my back once more.

(Clay's self-portrait)

And you know... I have this thought often.  "I'm nailin' it.  I've got this.  ON.  IT."  And as a mama, these moments feel good.  Actually, great.  Because we all have moments when we feel like "I'm losing it. What in the world? And, I don't have this."  But we put on that cape and rise to the occasion no matter what the occasion may be and even in those persnickety moments where we doubt ourselves.  Because we are all SuperMoms... in our own special way.

And so, with my head held high... Ima takin' that title and Ima gonna to keep rockin' it out- SuperMom style.  So while I wait for my real SuperMom cape to show up on my doorstep (just to make it official) and for spell check to recognize this sure-to-be word, I'll join all the other mamas out there silently tearin' it up each day and relish in my new title.

And in case I needed just one more reminder... when I tiptoed into Lilah's room just now to feed her and I turned on the lamp just to peer at her face for another fifteen minutes before my day would come to and end, she slowly opened her eyes and looked all around the room.  Then at me.  She waited til her eyes adjusted just guzzling her bottle in the meantime.  And there it was.  A huge smile of recognition, of comfort, of love spread across her face.  You see, I may or may not be a SuperMom... but to her I'm just that... super.  And that's enough.      

Just Another Day in the Life...

Let me just say... for all the mamas out there... this is for you.  For all the soon-to-be mamas out there... this is for you too.  If you are already a mama, you will laugh, shake your head at your own embarrassments and completely relate.  If you are a soon-to-be mama... don't let this scare you for all of us mamas wouldn't want it any other way.  But consider yourself warned.  {Now, you are in the know.}

And let this be my pre-face for this poem needs a pre-face... and a disclaimer and probably a prologue but I'm too lazy.  So in my pre-face I should tell you that I believe one key to happiness is laughter.  And I am very happy in my life and I am laughing... a lot.  Laughing at myself, at my kiddos and at the craziness that can surround some days and moments in our lives as full-time mamas.  This poem in no-way-shape-or-form means that I am not grateful or that I don't love my life... because I am and I do.  This is just my way at laughing at all that occurs in a day (and laughing at the fact that it actually all does occur in one day) and me poking fun at my harder moments as a mom and giving myself some grace in the meantime.

{And... I would like to add that this is not the case for all mamas... some have easy babies and some have their @%#* together... neither of which is me.}

Just another day in the life...

What day is it?  I don't know.  Alarm says beep and I go back to sleep.
Wake up, sand in my eyes, messy hair-- I don't care

What to wear?  Whatever fits.  Not my jeans by all means.
Yoga pants, leggings, t-shirt, shoes that don't hurt.

Alarm goes off, monitors beeping, kids awake, beds to make.
Diaper changes, teeth brushed, clothes to put on, mama's yawn.

Up the stairs, down the stairs, up and down and back around.
Breakfast ready, come and get it, booster seat, make them eat.

It's just another day in the life...

Vitamins and medicine, each food group, and I smell poop.
Round two of diaper changes, the kitchen's dirty, it's only 8:30.

Take out the trash, clean the bottles, scrape the grime, tummy time.
Hot Dog dance, building towers, playing cars, off to Mars.

Silly faces, baby talk, throw in the wash, oh my gosh.
Bouncing baby, again and again, picking up toys, lots of noise.

Shhh... inside voices, daddy's working, "How 'bout a snack?" My aching back.
Snack gets spilled, "No worries." Brush off the dirt... for a little won't hurt.

It's just another day in the life...

Get kids in the car, one at a time, pack diaper bag, wave the white flag.
Grocery shopping, no room in the cart, kiddos resist, to heck with the list.

Lunchtime eating, crackers and cheese-- a quick bite for me... is a victory.
Playtime before nap and more diaper changing, a resisting child-- mad, hyper and wild.

Time.  Out.  "Say you're sorry." Someone's cranky... milk and a blankie.
Kids are fussing. Talking, singing. Will they sleep?  Then not a peep.

Naptime, finally... you've come at last. Time for chores. Down on all fours.
Cleaning, straightening, putting away. Starting the to-do's... wishing for a snooze.

It's just another day in the life...

Baby's crying, kids awake. Naptime is through... peace and quiet is too.
Grouchy faces, whimpers and cries, snuggles are in order, being a mama hoarder.

Changing diapers, then more snacks. Rattles, play mats and cowboy hats.
Finish the laundry, fold the clothes.  Choo Choo trains and paper airplanes.

Nakey time, start the bath.  Pee on the floor and the clothes you wore.
Splashing, splashing, tub overflow.  Sit your derriere on the potty chair.

Jammies, lotion. Wiggles and giggles.  Time for dinner, we've got a beginner.
Food on the floor.  Food in the hair.  Food on the wall.  A bedtime stall.

It's just another day in the life...

Even more playtime, daddy's here.  Hide and seek.  Tiptoe and sneak.
Piggy backs and dinosaur roars. Shooting free throws, hang up clothes.

Sleepy baby, tiny yawns. Snuggle, dip, bounce and skip.
Kiss and love and say goodnight.  Put baby down without a sound.

Time for reading lots of books. "Just one more." And the big 'ignore.'
Five books later and ready for bed.  Prayers and love and all of the above.

Tiptoe quietly out of the room.  Down goes the sun.  Another day done.
Wake up tomorrow on a brand new day. I get to repeat, a life ever so sweet.

It's just another day in the life...

Reflection

When I look in the mirror, I see me and when I see me... I see a big nose. A huge nose that's much too big for my delicate face, with a bump on top and a profile that's wanting something different.

But, I wouldn't trade it for all the clouds in the sky because it's my familes' nose. It belongs to those that came before me and reminds me of my lineage and where I come from.

I think I'll keep my nose.

When I look in the mirror, I see me and when I see me... I see lots of freckles. Freckles covering my body head to toe. Contrasting dark brown with my light skin like a connect-the-dot game.

But, I wouldn't trade them for all the fish on the sea because they're a stamp from my childhood. A wonderful childhood spent outside in the lake, sun-kissed and barefoot. It reminds me how lucky I was to grow up wild and free.

I think I'll keep my freckles.

When I look in the mirror, I see me and when I see me... I see a birthmark as big as I've ever seen. Red as a cherry and right on my side. The doctor told my mama it was a bruise from delivery and it would go away. 33 years and still waiting...

But, I wouldn't trade it for all the flowers in the field because for some reason it never wanted to leave so how could I ask it to go? It makes me different.  It makes me unique. A kiss from the angels before they sent me on my way.

I think I will keep my birthmark.

When I look in the mirror, I see me and when I see me... I see a scar right across my tummy. 5 inches in length. My whole life... not there... and then one day it was.

But then so were you. It was my way of making sure you arrived safely. It was my last gift to you when I was your home. My goodbye. My welcome. My I-would-do-anything-for-you.  My I-can't-live-without-you. My constant reminder you're here, you're my daughter, you're perfect.

I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

I think I'll keep my scar.

For this is who I am. These things make me more beautiful because I have a story to tell. And it's mine, only mine.

The Word "Little"

I recently read an article from a gentleman with dwarfism.  He happens to be a professor at a college and smart as a whip.  His article focused on his perspective of dwarfism... what it felt like to be a dwarf, how he fought his whole life to prove his worth and how he hated the word little.

Hmmmmmm... the word little.

Words are words.  They mean something, describe something, help us understand our world.  Whether we like it or not, we are all associated with words.  Sometimes we are lucky and can choose certain words that are ours.  Other times, words are chosen for us... but their still ours.  Sometimes these words makes us happy and other times, so sad.  Different people see us differently and can have their own set of words to use to describe us.  Words hurt, words help, words love.

 My words go like this: creative, loving, brunette, determined, spirited, stubborn, smart, thoughtful, cheapskate, freckled, dreamer and last be not least... lanky.  That's right.  I can tend to look a little like Gumby and... I am aware of the resemblance.

Some of those go hand-in-hand with my personality.  Some of them I work hard for.  Some of them I have always been.  But these are my words.  And even though some of them I would like to shake right off, I can't.  It's who I am.

And with my Lilah... one of her many words will always be little.

And while I understand the professor's point-of-view and I can appreciate his story... I look at the word little so differently.

Disclaimer: {And I should mention before I go any further, that I am not a little person, nor can I fully understand what it is like to be a little person.  So with that said, maybe I am way off-base but I am still going to write it because I think it.}

Little.  I understand the professor felt like he had to prove himself his whole life to make up for his short-stature.  I understand that he felt like he had to press upon people his integrity.  I really do.  But... and there is a big but... (and I am laughing that I just wrote that... but it is what I mean... and now let's be serious)...

Can't we just embrace the little?

And even though I am trying to be serious and I have a serious point to make, my glass of wine is making me write this next line... in the words of Lady Gaga, "Baby, I was born this way."  And what a way to be.  (Maybe my disclaimer should have been about the glass of wine seeing how it has been void from my life for a year.  Thanks to pregnancy.  Thanks to baby.  Happy to have a glass of wine every now and again.)

I love that Lilah gets this word little.  It is soooo her.  Her little squishy nose, her little chubby legs, her little shy smile when I get her from nap.  Her little giggle at daddy, her little belly button, her little toes that curl around my finger.  All of these things make me smile so big.  And selfishly, I am glad that my girl gets to stay little a little longer just so I can savor these memories of her forever more.  I love my little.  I love everything about my babygirl.

And for the record... little is just one of her many, many words.  We don't have just one, you know.  She is going to reveal her secrets of who she is and fill in the blanks of what her words will be... but not yet.  You see... she likes to keep me guessing.  She just shows glimmers of her personality and leaves me hungry for more and more.  But, each day she delivers and I get to see a little more into her world-- the world of who she will become.  It is a world I am desperate to learn about... but I know in time I will.

And to tell you the truth, it wouldn't surprise me if some of her words sounded like this: big {personality}, giant {zest for life}, huge {heart}.  Big and little... they go together like fish and the sea.

And as for when she gets older?  She may have to prove herself and be her own advocate.  She may have to stand up for what she believes is right or wrong.  And as her mama, I hope all of these things for her for they will make her fierce.  But for now, I am enjoying my little one and wishing each day she stays little in my arms and I pray that she always looks at me with those deep blue eyes and smiles and gushes and squeals at her mama.

And that word little... well, it is my new favorite word.  And it will always be.