From Living in My Skin: An Insider's View of Life With a Special Needs Child by Lori Hickman. Her words are beautiful and so very true:
Someone I love relies on me in ways you will never understand. Someone I love endures pain and challenges that break my heart and renew my spirit at the same time. Someone I love is unable to advocate for themselves for things that most of us take for granted. Someone I love will never have the opportunities that every child should have. Someone I love will need unconditional love and support after I am gone, and this frightens me to the core. Someone I love encounters pity, stereotyping responses, and prejudice at every turn, because they look, act, and/or learn differently than others. Someone I love has needs that require me to allow "outsiders" to have power and input in areas that should be mine alone to meet. Someone I love will continue to look to me for everything in life long after other children are able to assume a place as part of the world. Someone I love has needs that require more time and energy than I have to give. Someone I love has needs that mean I am not able to meet basic needs of my own. Someone I love has needs that have become the driving force behind major decisions my family makes. Someone I love has changed me in ways I will never be able to describe. Someone I love has taught me about love and about the really important things in life...
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
His Name is Prince Peter Pepper Jameson
I told my niece I would meet her for coffee on Saturday morning. She’ such a busy girl these days, and with my own hectic life to juggle, it seems like I never get a chance to just sit and catch up with her and hear about all the exciting things going on in her life. Before my girls woke up, I threw on some clothes, pulled my hair back in a ponytail and told Kenny I was going to get some red chile at the Farmer’s Market downtown.
Tomi’s smile is like sunshine. I was so happy to hug her and kiss her sweet face. We met at La Iguana…a super cool, uber hip place on the downtown mall that’s pretty new. It’s the only place on the mall where you can eat outside (or inside) and I can’t say enough good things about it. If you haven’t been there, you’re missin’ out, man!
I had coffee. A “B-52” to be exact. It’s got irish crème in it and espresso and was as delicious as it was beautiful. The waiter kept referring to me as a “VIP” and told me he liked reading what I wrote on Facebook, and that my beautiful girls were getting big. I had no idea who this guy was.
We sipped coffee and ate scones and English muffins. She told me about her summer classes, and about her sweet dog Micah, and how she had been up since 5:00 that morning getting ready for a pre-dawn “kidnapping” that was part of an annual Mayfield High School cheerleading tradition. Those Trojans. They are a weird breed.
I paid for breakfast and told my stalker waiter I appreciated the service and the atmosphere. We strolled through the Farmer’s Market and met up with my mother in-law, her sister, and my sister in-law. I found a gorgeous, intoxicating desert sage that I picked up to plant in my garden and tried to hunt down my favorite red chile guy. We got to the southern end of the mall, and that’s where I saw him.
He was handsome and furry and lonesome and… available. As much as I tried to talk myself out of it, my heart just couldn’t say no.
Instead of red chile, I came home with a cute kitty. My girls couldn’t have been more excited if it were Christmas morning. The little guy was happy to find a hiding spot behind Lainey on the couch and within seconds, he was in the arms of his two new mommies.
As the girls argued over his name, I tried to come up with a great story to tell their dad. He would not be pleased that I came home with another shedding, shitting, mouth to feed. Maybe I’ll tell him that a band of wild gypsies left him on our doorstep for good luck. I saved him from a taco truck. Santa came early. Who can say no to Santa?
His first name was Prince. Then it was Peter. Then it was Pepper. A laundry list of every P name came after that, until I made the executive decision to call him PJ, which is short for Prince Peter Pepper Jameson. He looks like a PJ, don’t you think?
My Libby thinks PJ is her baby. She licks him and lets him nuzzle his head against her long legs. Louie likes PJ, too, especially since he’s bigger than the kitty. Poor Louis…he’s got Short Man Syndrome pretty bad.
Bet you can’t guess where the Prince sleeps at night. Was there any doubt he would end up anywhere else?
You gotta give the little guy props for being patient. Within 24 hours, he went from being just another furry baby in a litter of unwanted kittens to the crown jewel to two of the most inquisitive, affectionate, maternal, all-around hands-on princesses on the planet.
If you ask me, I think he actually likes being a baby.
Which is a good thing, because my babies sure like him.
Love,
PJ’s new Grandma
Tomi’s smile is like sunshine. I was so happy to hug her and kiss her sweet face. We met at La Iguana…a super cool, uber hip place on the downtown mall that’s pretty new. It’s the only place on the mall where you can eat outside (or inside) and I can’t say enough good things about it. If you haven’t been there, you’re missin’ out, man!
I had coffee. A “B-52” to be exact. It’s got irish crème in it and espresso and was as delicious as it was beautiful. The waiter kept referring to me as a “VIP” and told me he liked reading what I wrote on Facebook, and that my beautiful girls were getting big. I had no idea who this guy was.
We sipped coffee and ate scones and English muffins. She told me about her summer classes, and about her sweet dog Micah, and how she had been up since 5:00 that morning getting ready for a pre-dawn “kidnapping” that was part of an annual Mayfield High School cheerleading tradition. Those Trojans. They are a weird breed.
I paid for breakfast and told my stalker waiter I appreciated the service and the atmosphere. We strolled through the Farmer’s Market and met up with my mother in-law, her sister, and my sister in-law. I found a gorgeous, intoxicating desert sage that I picked up to plant in my garden and tried to hunt down my favorite red chile guy. We got to the southern end of the mall, and that’s where I saw him.
He was handsome and furry and lonesome and… available. As much as I tried to talk myself out of it, my heart just couldn’t say no.
Instead of red chile, I came home with a cute kitty. My girls couldn’t have been more excited if it were Christmas morning. The little guy was happy to find a hiding spot behind Lainey on the couch and within seconds, he was in the arms of his two new mommies.
As the girls argued over his name, I tried to come up with a great story to tell their dad. He would not be pleased that I came home with another shedding, shitting, mouth to feed. Maybe I’ll tell him that a band of wild gypsies left him on our doorstep for good luck. I saved him from a taco truck. Santa came early. Who can say no to Santa?
His first name was Prince. Then it was Peter. Then it was Pepper. A laundry list of every P name came after that, until I made the executive decision to call him PJ, which is short for Prince Peter Pepper Jameson. He looks like a PJ, don’t you think?
My Libby thinks PJ is her baby. She licks him and lets him nuzzle his head against her long legs. Louie likes PJ, too, especially since he’s bigger than the kitty. Poor Louis…he’s got Short Man Syndrome pretty bad.
Bet you can’t guess where the Prince sleeps at night. Was there any doubt he would end up anywhere else?
You gotta give the little guy props for being patient. Within 24 hours, he went from being just another furry baby in a litter of unwanted kittens to the crown jewel to two of the most inquisitive, affectionate, maternal, all-around hands-on princesses on the planet.
If you ask me, I think he actually likes being a baby.
Which is a good thing, because my babies sure like him.
Love,
PJ’s new Grandma
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