It’s random post time where I fill you in on all the random little things that have happened recently that didn’t warrant a post on their own!

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The other day I was talking to the only other little boy’s mom I know that also has William’s Syndrome and she told me that there are only 11 registered cases in the state!!! That seems strange to me, Williams occurs in about 1 in 7,000 so statistically there should be a LOT more cases. I guess this is just proof that Williams is a largely undiagnosed genetic disorder.

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I met my neighbors across the street finally the other day. Let’s just say the police were involved in a neighbor vs. neighbor dispute that involved shoving, screaming and cussing. I watched from the driveway with Ben and one of his work friends who came by to see our new house. Ironically his first comment was “Great Neighborhood!!”

On the plus side, one of the neighbors is a local restaurant owner who embarrassedly introduced himself after the ruckus and is bringing us lots of $$ off coupons.

Actually, this one could have used it’s own post…

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I had a day of luxury that I didn’t expect and was able to really appreciate. After dropping Sum off at daycare, I went home and took a nap, woke up and worked out at a nice gym I have a temporary membership to, then to Starbucks for a strawberries and cream frap. Yes, the luxurious life is nice… oh so nice…

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So, this sounds like I’m bragging, and maybe on a certain level I totally am shamelessly bragging, but I’m 8-months-pregnant so whatever. I’ve had more, “you look good!” “you are so skinny!” and “you look so young!” comments in the last few months than I’ve EVER HAD IN MY WHOLE LIFE. I’m torn b/t feeling sad I never get to hear that normally and total joy that I’m so freaking hot… at 8-months-pregnant… hmmmmm.

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I eat a lot. I think I’m shoving down over 5,000 calories a day. I’ve got to stop this. I don’t know why my metabolism is my friend right now, but I don’t want to take advantage of this pregnancy miracle.

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I’m terrified of the landscaping in my yard. I’ll post some pics but I think we’ve bitten off more than we can chew in this area. Ben wants to bulldoze everything. It’s pretty, I want to keep it, but I don’t have time to weed the massive flower beds… in both the front AND back yards. There are flowers everywhere already, I have a purple blooming tree and massive amounts of strange bushes with thorns that have to go.

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Sum had his first Easter egg hunt today at school. (last year he wasn’t so into it.) We were the nerdy parents who were both video recording and taking pictures. We were the nerdy parents who had both of our moms come too to witness their adorable grandchild. It was a blast. He went from total excitement, to screaming overwhelmed, to thrilled, to crying, back to absolute joy. It was an emotional event.

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Ben is having a tooth pulled, cavities filled and bone grafting done today. Bone grafting sounds so horrible. I don’t know what they are going to do to him and honestly I don’t want to know. I’m posting as quick as I can because I think that this weekend may be kind of chaotic with an almost 3-year-old, a drugged up husband and massive amounts of holiday related things to do!

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Have a blessed Easter and although I didn’t take the time to remind you, remember what the holiday is REALLY about. Not the fluff.

I wish I could record my thoughts sometimes. I mentally write blogs in my head and think to myself, “wow, that is SO clever, you should put that in a blog!” and then respond back, “I know, right! That would be a killer blog!” then by the time I think to actually write down all of my cleverness it’s gone, gone, gone. Today started in most of that same way, but I got to a computer, opened up a page to write and…

My house alarm went off. I’m a huge chicken even when there isn’t an alarm ringing. I got my phone and ran outside because I live in a close-knit neighborhood and surely my neighbors would save me if anything happened. I mean, that is what the real estate told me when we bought this house, all about how my neighborhood is this nice, little, perfect community where people help people and people bring muffins over. I got some muffins actually from my neighbors next door, but I haven’t met my neighbors across the street. I’m assuming they are like me and often look out their front windows to check on things so they’d see me in my sweat pants and flapping bathrobe (channeling John Cusack) jumping up and down if there really was a burglar or home INVADER. Invader sounds so much scarier. Burglar makes me think of the ‘Hamburglar’ which makes it kind of cute in a strange way and makes me crave fries… except for that article I read yesterday about the woman who bought a Happy Meal and let it sit out for a WHOLE YEAR on her shelf and it looks the same as it did the day she bought it!! Bleh… that will help with the cravings. For a week or so…

But back to the whole home invader deal, I ran outside which seemed logical to me even though my mom on the phone disagreed with me. Like a Burglar would be THAT organized and stupid, “hey, lets make the alarm go off to scare her outside to grab her in mid-morning when these good neighbors are probably going to be looking out their windows and people are walking their dogs.” See mom, NOT logical. The Hamburglar would do something like that, but not a home INVADER.

Stealthily I crept (as stealthy as an 8-month-pregnant person can be) (SIDE NOTE: as I was typing that I saw something out of the corner of my eye outside the window and I jumped up, checked it out then tightly closed the curtains. Really.) around the house and checked all the windows and doors then called Ben to come save me. He told me where the aluminum bat and pepper spray was at which was *helpful*. The problem with his logic was that I would have to go BACK into the house to get my defense weapons. I knew where the gun was that I HATE but I’m terrified if I had a gun and shot the home invader that he’d sue me and somehow I’d get screwed in the deal and have to go have this baby in jail, then have it taken from my arms and I’d never see it again until it was 5 and he’d be like, “whatever mom, I don’t know you” and Ben would divorce me and marry some hot 20-year-old that my children would prefer over me then my life would be over by the time I got out of the slammer because no one wants to hire an ex-con so I’d have to sell myself for money then get hooked on cocaine. BAM. and that’s why, kids, guns are BAD. (note to self: no more Lifetime movies.)

Ben finally, somehow convinced me to go inside and shut off the system. He couldn’t remember the exact code and so I kept typing what he thought it was, then realized that the keys were sticking so even if his code was right I was probably going to lock up the system and a cage would drop around me, cartoon style. Luckily, you can try as many times as you need to and I eventually got the alarm to go off. That’s when every crack of the house and refrigerator noise started making me jump. Also, some men talking on the radio almost gave me a heart attack. With Ben on the phone, I checked out the house, looked in closets and saw nothing.

I was wanting to come home and take a nap while Sum was at daycare but now I’m twitchy and jumping at my cats walking around out of the corner of my eye so I’m thinking maybe it won’t be happening. I have Snickers with me now, like he’ll somehow alert me if a burglar is in here. He might actually, he growls when someone knocks at the door or rings the doorbell so there’s a chance he’ll save me. More likely though, he’ll suddenly look up at some tiny noise I can’t hear me and I’ll just die from a heart attack. (SIDE NOTE: I just heard a bird sing outside and the pitch sounded similar to my house alarm and my heart nearly burst. *&%$ BIRD!)

Which reminds me of the post I originally sat down to write- about how pregnant women joking about dying isn’t funny. Guess we’ll have to wait for another day.

“I knew her. I didn’t actually know her, know her, but the little girl who must have been about 5 or 6 was very familiar to me. She looked at me with curious eyes, I must have seemed strange even for a stranger, staring so intently into her open face. My heart hammered from the combination of sudden adrenaline and the caffeine I had just consumed. I wanted so badly to go over to the father standing there with a toddler in the Wal-Mart shopping cart and another older girl walking alongside. The one I was looking at was strapped in the seat, the cool new shopping carts that also have 2 seats with seat belts for the older kids that get tired. She wanted to walk too but her father told her not now. Her wide eyes with dark circles, pixie nose, the teeth with braces that no other child would have that young and full, full lips I knew. She didn’t look like her siblings. Her face was just a little different, but special in the way I knew and my heart recognized”

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I love part two’s to stories. Usually it’s the good part, the conclusion, the climax… it’s the part that ties everything together in a neat package.

When I wrote part one I didn’t know that there would be a part two to write about.

Life is painful, life is divine. Life is all about those little choices we make, when looking like a complete moron is better than being silent sometimes. When being the fool who doesn’t stay silent is the better option.

I went to a McDonald’s the other day, it was rainy and I needed a place with an indoor play area to let Sum work off some of that endless toddler energy. He felt fine but had a horrible sounding cough so I was a little worried that I would get dirty looks from other patrons, you know, the kind I usually give parents who bring out their child with the horrible sounding cough… Usually the place gets crowded on days like that, but that day we were the only ones in the whole play yard. As we were sitting in there eating, two men with a little girl came in and sat at the table next to us. I was kind of annoyed, I’m an introvert and I wasn’t wanting to make small talk with strangers.

I intentionally sat with my back to them and busied myself with feeding Sum and reading e-mail on my phone. Sum, the mega extrovert was busy smiling at the table behind me and starting yelling “HI!” at the top of his lungs. I finally turned and looked to make the obligatory apologetic smile and my heart started pounding. I looked past the quietly talking men right into the large, starburst eyes of a widely smiling little girl.

I recognized the little girl the same way I had with one at Wal-Mart. I knew she had to be about 6, she had the facial characteristics I had memorized from my endless research, coping with my own loss. I stared for a second too long then turned back around quickly, racked with the pain and loss all over again. I wanted to talk, to ask, to connect. But, like I said in my other post, how do you ask a parent if their child has a genetic disorder? Williams isn’t common, it’s pretty rare. Most cases are diagnosed when the kids are older, what if the parents didn’t know? My mind ran through many scenarios, some good, some bad. I sweated and my adrenaline raced.

I remembered how devastated I was the last time when I chickened out. I considered this. I considered the fact it was 2 men and not an overly emotional mom… I worded it carefully, very carefully, then panicked over their imagined response.

Summit happily ate a hash brown, unaware of the tornado inside of me. I looked at the girl again. What if I was wrong? My heart knew I was right, but my head loudly doubted me, I am no genetic specialist.

My heart won. They did know, they had found out recently. I almost started crying right then, my emotions were overwhelming. We exchanged information, the girls mom had been wanting to connect with other WS moms in the area and hadn’t had any luck.

Sometimes looking like a fool is the best decision.

I started to write a post on depravity- how it’s only in the realization of how truly in need of God we are that our relationship with him can bloom when…

…over the monitor Sum was NOT napping after a long while so I checked on him. He was buck naked, delighted with his uncanny ability to take off his PINNED ON fleeced zip-up and diaper. And he peed in his bed. So, I’m doing laundry now in our given to us washer, and Sum is standing in front of it hypnotized.

It’s funny how things happen. Now I have a surprisingly cheery boy at my elbow, thrilled he escaped from nap time a second day in the row. It’s beautiful today, I’m going to go enjoy it.

While at Walgreens the other day, I was annoyed to see that they had a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition promo box full of magazines near the check out, not in the magazine aisle. Normally, I hate being “that” person so I would have ignored it, but the fact that it was positioned at my almost 3-year-old’s eye level really ticked me off. In fact he tried to take a copy for himself, thus alerting me to this in the first place.

I mean, really, there is this sexy, mostly naked model holding herself and it’s facing the main aisle and not only is it in the wrong section of the store, it’s at a child’s eye level. I’m not trying to make issues out of nothing, but I felt convicted that I let so much else slide morally speaking that this couldn’t be just another thing I turned away from.

Full of my righteous indignation, I marched to the check out, determined to let my opinion be known in a civil and practical manner, in a way that would be courteous, yet challenging to the management.

Sum, on the other hand, didn’t feel like cooperating. While I approached the check out, he started grabbing everything in sight. I slapped little hands, corrected calmly and smiled at the cashier. “I noticed that you (no SUM!) have a box of Sports Illustrated (STOPPIT NOW!) swimsuit edition (NOOO!) at his level and it really bothers ME BECAUSE (NO! NOT THE DONATION SHAMROCKS, STOP RIPPING UP THE SHAMROCKS!!!)”

“Yeah, my little boy would have got in them too,” the cashier said seriously, completely missing my point. He sympathetically looked at my little terror, feeling sorry for me and my poor parenting. “They are in a bad place, I don’t know why they put them there”.

“Ummmmm, yeah, ummm” Sum grabbed another shamrock and there was a line growing behind me. As that shamrock ripped, my decision to jut get out of there was made.

I tried.

Need I say more? I was a mess. I’ve known for almost 2 years that he’d be starting at his therapy center’s pre-school when he turned 3 but somehow the starting 2 months before his actual birthday was harder than I thought it would be!

I know its for the best, but my selfish side wants to keep him at home. It’s a humbling thing, to feel protection so strong, but know that keeping him isn’t what is best. I know some people will think I’m wrong on some level, going against my intuition as a mom and entering my impressionable child into full time pre-school so young, but what if the right outweighed the wrong, if just barely?

I don’t know what its like having a normal child. I just know what my story is, the choices I’ve had to make and dreams and hopes I’ve had to let go of.

Him starting school is one of the biggest things I’ve had to let go of. I wanted him to attend a private Christian school if he attended a school at all. I was interested in homeschooling and here I am… and I’m ok. I have actually felt a peace too, I know he’s suppose to be there. It’ll help him catch up with other kids and he loves the social interaction. He loves going, he is happy and everyone loves him.

I’m just writing this not to whine, but to let you know that we aren’t always right as moms. We have to be flexible to what is best for our child and seek God’s will regardless of how difficult it is for us personally. I’m still working on this, obviously, and am no where close, but it’s where I am right now. It’s funny how I have so few answers lately, it’s all about waiting and praying and rambling to a close about some non-existent point I have to make… lol, forgive me, it’s been an emotional week.

I hate the kind of people who run from one crisis to another. I mean, where is their faith? They are annoying and always seem to be complaining, needing prayer and are not much fun to be around.

I am *totally* that person. That sucks.

I’m not ready to give up my toddler. He will be three in May and I’ve known for 2 years that he’d start full-time daycare at that time and it’s for the best- etc. I thought I’d be ready emotionally. WRONG. Yesterday, the center director said that she had an opening for him and he could start MONDAY. EEEEEEEK! WHAT?! 2 months earlier than I had though? that is outrageous, crazy, and what-the-heck, I’m crying.

He can’t tell me if there is a bully. He can’t tell me if his teacher hates him. He can’t tell me about his day… I really wish that his speech therapy would kick in soon so he could communicate! Even now, as I’m typing, I can feel my blood pressure rising.

I know it’s for the best. I mean, for crying out loud, he screeches every time we leave therapy at the center because he wants to stay. When I asked him if he wanted to go to “therapy” every day, all day, he smiled and said a very clear “yes!”. Whatever, he probably didn’t really understand me… right?

It’s just that he seems so young. He is so little. I’m not wanting outside influences other than me in his life. I am selfish and want to horde him. I don’t want to share him, he is my endorphins. How will I get by without him? What will I do for 3 months before the baby comes?

I know, I’m a total drama queen and I hate myself for it. It’s funny how irrational you can be about your children. It’s not like I’m giving him up for adoption, but I almost feel that way. Geez, it’s been an emotional 5 days, I need an emotional vacation.

a million things raced through my head when the ultrasound doctor smiled at me. “I don’t see any traces of the cysts on the brain,” he said, his words restoring my displaced emotions. “and although there is still a spot on the heart, the rest of him checks out so well we aren’t concerned.”

the doctor in Little Rock over the computer monitor who was observing via web cam seconded, “you have a 99% chance of a healthy baby.”

I smiled, waiting for the but. There has always been a but. I was silent, my smile plastered on. My skin felt weird, my heart was beating hard. If it wasn’t Edwards Syndrome, if it wasn’t Down’s Syndrome then it was…

“Congratulations!” the genetic counselor who had sat in with us as well finally said.

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Despite all my prayers, despite my pleading, it wasn’t until that moment that I realized that I still doubted God. I had said I believed, thought I believed, but I guess my prayer begging God to forgive my doubt was the most accurate. The whole weekend I was still in shock, I think only now, 5 days later, that I am beginning to grasp that this just may be reality.

There is a lightness that I haven’t felt in six weeks.

There is also a deep apathy and emptiness as well. I had focused so long on one thing that it being taken away from me was a strange, unexpected pain of its own. I wondered for days what to pray when I sat down. There was a hole somewhere that was sucking in everything around it and I was helpless. How could this be? I have a major miracle- a beautiful, precious gift given to me and I feel almost nothing? I wondered at this.

Then I saw how blind I really was. Blinded by the glorious light- I was so used to the dark prison I kept myself in. God has set me free and now I have to choose to walk in his freedom.

It’s not natural for me, I had stopped believing sub-consciously that God was a good God, that he wanted to bless me. I had thought that miracles only happened to “those” people, that I was somehow called to suffer. Though that may have been for a season, I feel like it’s spring time, there is re-birth and new life all around me and it smells sweet.

Thanks for your prayers, know that they did change my life.

Internet AND a computer that is connected to it. Brilliant!

I’m in heaven, things are working out slowly but surely, I feel that my head is finally starting to clear after all the stress of the last few weeks. I’m sleeping better in my huge bedroom so I’m not in a half-state of awake during the day.

Tomorrow is my ultrasound and I feel nothing but irritation that they made the appointment so freaking early in the morning. I really am not a morning person. I’m trying to cheer myself up with thoughts of an egg mcmuffin for breakfast… so sad but so true that food is a very real motivator for me…

I’ve gone over every scenario in my head, perhaps obsessively at times, and I’m just back at square one. What I mean by that is that I have no conclusions, a flurry of feelings and a strong desire to sleep the stress off.

I’ve thought about what I will feel if they say this baby still has problems. I’ve also thought how I would feel if they say the baby is fine. I’d like to think that there will be some sort of closure- of sorts- tomorrow. Like, to know either way. Maybe then I can decide on a name. It shouldn’t matter actually, I feel that it’s wrong, that I should have already decided on a name regardless, but I can’t do anything about that right now. I can’t let myself feel that.

I feel the baby kicking in me, hard. I don’t remember Sum being this active. He kicks anytime I’m still, he presses himself against me, already testing his boundaries. He wakes me up at night and is almost vocal with motion if I make him uncomfortable with my position. I love him already.

I know that people are praying for me, I feel it. I know this sounds crazy, but I feel it in my veins, like a strong drug. I feel a peace surrounding me even though I kind of want to stress out about it, illogically. I am smiling more that I have.

I’m not saying that I’m always this way, always going to be this way or that I never have tear-soaked meltdowns in the shower. It’s just for now, for today, his grace is enough.

I’m in the new house- boxes in various states of unpacked, kitchen in disorder, rooms painted but not cut in…

I’m typing on my iPhone, which I have to say in no easy feat. I want to write more, but it’s hard to share my heart pecking away on the tiny keyboard.

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers- the ultrasound is this week, I’m stressed and trying to trust God. I hope my computer will be working soon- but to be honest right now I am more concerned about the non-working washer. Yep. It’s been a week without one and Sum just stripped down and peed on his only sheet.

My life- I love it and I’m not kidding.