B U S Y
All the time, busy. That's what we're up to. That's where I've been hiding.
In fact, last week I was holed up at the darkroom for something like 15 hours. I still didn't get the project done on time. Oh, well. What did get done, though, was nice. Truth be told, the project was on portraitature, and while I don't mine pointing the lens at everyone else... half the assignmenet was SELF-portrait. I just flatly refused to do it until two days before the due date. Obviously I am a stellar student, yes? (on the bright side, I have some of the
next project done already, further wasting the time I had before the other one was due)
Noel is doing that thing these days where he tries to keep doing the new stuff he's learning while he's sleeping. Wakes himself up pushing up on his knees. We sleep less than I'd like. Coffee is seriously my new bestest friend. On the other hand, the little man is doing great- in fact, with our EI the other day he got himself pushed up on his hands and knees, belly clearing the floor. Still doesn't know where he's going, but he'll figure it out sometime.
We Buddy-Walked, it was fun, we raised some money, we went home. That seems to be the domain of bigger kids- Noel has no time for face painting, you know? There was one of those inflatable jump around thingies- looked like fun. Again, Noel just wasn't interested. Eh.
Mostly, though, I've been doing some serious time trying to get us into shape for a mortgage. Credit reports that needed tending, a budget that needs to be stuck to, some sort of magical fairy to come along and make this all work... you know. Turns out, my husband had a bunch of crap on his reports that we're still trying to fix (yeah, one of his aliases ISN'T Tawanda, but that and someone else's social # were listed), so that's a lot of fun. Also, the housing market here is a little, uh, spendy. I'm not working. Money isn't an issue for us right now, but when we're looking at a 200k+ mortgage, it will be. Maybe we'll just buy an empty lot down by the river and live in a tent. But waterfront property is pretty durned expensive, too. And flood insurance. And property taxes. So, that won't work, either.
I'm crafty, though. I'll figure it out.
And, in closing, I'll give you all some self-portrait art to adore. Keep in mind it's a work print, and also it's been scanned, so it's not perfect.
I lied.
Best friend did NOT get pregnant on the first go.
I said it hereIt was two months... she got her first positive test today. She called me and I had to convince her that even though it wasn't a dark line, she's still really pregnant. Haha- newbie. But...
after I got off the phone with her, I started to worry. What if it's not just early? What if it's something icky, like a chemical? And that's when I knew.
I'm still an infertile at heart. It won't ever go away, the fear that pregnancy is fleeting and hard to get, even when it isn't mine. Normal people still expect the baby after the positive test. But I realized something else, too- I'm not bitter. Really and true.
Then why'd they tell you that?
Um, yeah. Direct quote from my husband's grandmother. Here's the setup:
We were having dinner with my husband's grandarents the other day. They summer up north, so they haven't seen Noel in a few months; he was about 3 months old or so when they left. Sometime between dinner and dessert, Grandma asked about Noel's health, "So, what are the doctors telling you?". She's asked this before, both before he was born and after, but I never really noticed that it was all after the diagnosis. I guess I just assumed that was how she asked about things, healthwise. I guess I was wrong, and therefore havn't been answering her
implied, secret question this whole time. Oops.
Until dinner, we've always answered with what seemed to be the correct answer- he's fine. Healthy. His pediatrician says he's doing great.
So she looks at me, and with a furrowed brow, says, "Then why'd they tell you that?" and my husband and I were VERY confused. I swear, I thought she was asking me why our pedi told us Noel was healthy! Really! That's how it sounded. She quickly reiterated the question, and added, "That he'd be a Down's baby" to clarify.
OH MY GOD.
She really didn't (even up to a few days ago) realize that he HAS Down syndrome! I am certain, beyond certain in fact, that we explicitly explained the diagnosis, that everyone knew the situation, that our families were on the smae page, so to speak. And come to find out... not so much.
The best part, though, is Grandpa. His reaction was gorgeous, and it surprised me. It will surprise you, too, in a minute. Grandpa is from the old country. He's racist. He's sexist. He's pisssed me off in conversation so well that I've just gotten up and left the room before. He is fiercely protective of his family, but I am reminded of old dogs and new tricks frequently when I talk to him.
Anyway.
Grandma says something about how she thought that in order to have Down syndrome, Noel should have the palmar crease on his hand. I explain a little, say that it's common, but by no means necessary. Blah, blah, blah. Conversation ensues on how it's a syndrome, so the list of symptoms is long, but not every person has all of them. (I swear I thought we ALREADY DID THIS. ahem)
Grandpa interrupts. Says, "I don't know why you are even bothering to talk about his hands, this nonsense. Treat him like a baby. He IS a baby. He will do what he will do."
Huh. Go figure.
And, by the way, I got the camera. Seems to be in good condition, and there was much rejoicing.
Oh, and also, this is our Buddy Walk ('cause trisomymommy asked)
Granola Love Revolution! WooHoo!
