the right to live a joyful life

Two Horse Crazy Girls Live Here

2009-07-07T09:54:00.000-07:00

The girls love to ride. Each girl rides twice a week.

Check out this link for a great video featuring The Rascal riding at The Champlain Adaptive Mounted Program (CHAMP). The Rascal is in the picture in the upper right corner. She's wearing the light blue fleece with yellow sleeves. Cursor over her picture and then click on "watch our story" Vermont Matters.

This is Jim. He lives in The Rascal's room.

She takes very good care of him.

He loves to watch The Saddle Club.

25 Things About Me

2009-07-07T08:55:00.000-07:00

Yes it's true. I did the 25 Things About Me on Facebook. Sometimes I surprise myself. Here they are if you don't get over to my Facebook page.

1. The last time I was on an airplane was when I was 16.
2. I celebrated my 16th birthday in Paris.
3. I am afraid of heights.
4. I had a dream that I had to save my oldest daughter from drowning which later came true on her first day of swimming lessons.
5. I come close to having panic attacks when my children are in or near water.
6. I earned a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree in Medical Laboratory Science in four years at UVM.
7. I used to be a Deadhead but I can’t stand listening to The Grateful Dead Channel on satellite radio.
8. 9% of NPR listeners switch between NPR and The Howard Stern Show. I am a member of that 9%.
9. I love to put Ring Dings in the freezer and eat them while they are frozen.
10. I feel extremely lucky that I am able to be a stay at home mom.
11. I admire The Dalai Lama.
12. My mother was Irish and I have the temper to prove it.
13. One of the people in my life from whom I have learned the most is my four year old daughter who has Down syndrome.
14. I have never met a dog I didn’t like.
15. I don’t have one ounce of anything that could be construed as artistic talent.
16. My husband is the most honorable person I have ever met.
17. I have little tolerance for adults who are disrespectful to children; that goes double for adults who are disrespectful to their own children.
18. I generally don’t like country music but I think Willie Nelson is awesome.
19. People usually underestimate my depth of understanding and my capabilities. I like it that way.
20. I once had a juggling contest with a physicist. He won.
21. I am careful to take my flag in at sundown every evening and I never let it fly in the rain.
22. I’m an introvert through and through.
23. Chit chat is exhausting and nerve wracking to me.
24. The only answer I will ever give to the question “Is Santa Claus real?” will be “Yes. The Spirit of Christmas is very real.”
25. I miss backpacking on The Long Trail and hope to do it again when my kids are older.

A Summer To Play Soccer

2009-07-03T05:14:00.000-07:00

The goose spent a week during June honing her soccer skills at one of the Vermont Voltage Soccer Academy day camps. Every morning we would stuff the soccer essentials into her soccer bag. The soccer essentials consisted of: shin guards, cleats, soccer ball, sunscreen. Hydration is also essential. During soccer week I stuffed my refrigerator with Gatorade, apple juice boxes, pre chilled Nalgene bottles full of water, oranges and bananas. I thought I have done a terrific job. Surely I had remembered all the soccer essentials. Little did I know that when you are a six year old female soccer player, it is essential that you carry the Gatorade, apple juice boxes, Nalgene bottles full of water, oranges and bananas in a Tinkerbell lunch box. Apparently Tinkerbell is the patron fairy of soccer players. Bet you didn’t know that.

A Summer For Dancing.

2009-06-29T16:41:00.000-07:00

Both girls are taking dancing lessons this summer. This is the first dance class for The Rascal, she is enjoying a combination pre-ballet and gymnastics class. It was a very happy day for her when I told her that we were going to the studio for HER dance class. She has endured three long years of sitting next to me in the waiting area watching through the two way mirrors as her sister danced her way through ballet class, tap class, bop and hop class… Well those days are over Miss Rascal, you are now one of the dancers. She needs to have me attend the class with her to provide her with the extra hands on instruction she needs and occasionally she, being the visual learner that she is, needs me to actually demonstrate the ballet position or gymnastic configuration on which the class is working. I can just imagine what a treat it is to watch this frumpy, out of shape, forty something, stay at home mom sashay around the room with a bunch of dainty little pigtailed four year olds. Oh the things we do for our kids.

When I approached the owner of the studio about having The Rascal start lessons, I knew that the answer might be no. The studio is privately owned and the owner may feel that she would not be able to accommodate The Rascal’s needs. Not to mention the fact that having a frumpy, out of shape, forty something, stay at home mom plodding around the studio amongst the dainty little pigtailed four year olds may not work for the instructor. I had devised a Plan B incase the answer was no. Plan B was to contact the YMCA or The Flynn Theater in Burlington, two organizations that would have access to better resources for accommodating special needs students. I didn’t need plan B. The owner of the studio was very supportive. She and the instructor were more than willing to make the necessary accommodations so The Rascal can experience the joy of dancing.

The Goose is a more seasoned dancer. She has been a student in three pre-ballet gymnastics classes, during this past school year she joined a tap class and worked very hard with her classmates for a wonderful performance earlier this month. She did a spectacular job this year in that tap dancing class. I have a new found respect for anyone who can tap dance. It is not easy. It is both physically and mentally demanding. I am very proud of my Goose. She showed a degree of dedication to her tap dancing far beyond her six years.
Here she is in her costume before the performance.

This summer she is taking a bop and hop class. All of these dance classes fit in well with her plan to grow up and be a rock star.

Good Boy

2008-09-25T18:28:00.000-07:00

His name is Mowgli.

He is a very good boy.

KICK A$$ BLOGGER AWARD

2008-09-23T14:54:00.000-07:00

Kelly over at Where There’s A Will has passed on The Kick A$$ Blogger award to me. Thank you Kelly, I am fully aware that with only 8 blog entries over the course of the past 9 months the award that I really deserve is The Lazy A$$ Blogger award but you are a nice lady and you have passed this on to me. I am honored.

OK now. Let’s see if I can follow the rules. I am to mention MammaDawg who created this award. Then I am to pass this award onto 5 other bloggers.

The bloggers on whom I wish to bestow this honor are:

Tricia at Unringing The Bell. Check out her 31 for 21 Challenge. That’s for those who are not a Lazy A$$ blogger like myself.

Nick McGivney at Our Jacob. I like Nick because he once told me that my blog lacked twee. I detest twee and I like Nick because he noticed that my blog lacked it.

Tom at Narrowridge. He’s a passionate guy whose blog does kick a$$.

Annie at Annie’s Porch. Annie is the woman who holds Tom up. She kicks a$$.

Last but not least, my a$$ kickin’ friend Elbog at Bittersweet.

Some of you may have already received this award. If you have……tough nuggies! You got it again.

My name is Katherine but you may call me Dick.

2008-08-17T12:10:00.000-07:00

Speech is an area of significant delay for The Rascal. She is not able to say her own name. This bothers me but doesn’t seem to bother her in the least. When we ask her what her name is she will answer “Mommy” or “Daddy” or “Eee ewww” (the name she calls the dog) and laugh like a drunken sailor.

Before The Goose was able to pronounce her little sister’s name “Katherine” she called her “Kaki”. I tried to resurrect this nickname for Katherine The Rascal.

“Hello little girl. Is your name Kaki? Why yes it is. Here is Kaki. Your name is Kaki. Can you say Kaki.”

Katherine responded with a huge smile and enthusiastic nodding of the head, tapped her chest and said as clear as a bell “Dick”.

I know what you are thinking and you’re wrong. Dick’s hearing is perfectly normal.

August Update

2008-08-10T03:10:00.000-07:00

The girls have been horsing around a lot this summer. We found a wonderful organization where both girls can take riding lessons. The Champlain Adaptive Mounted Program in So. Hero, Vermont is an organization made up of some amazing people. They make it possible for both of the girls to take their riding lessons together. I am so thankful to these good people that I have been volunteering on Saturday mornings. I am learning to groom and tack up the horses and I get to be one of the side walkers for some of the riders when they take their lessons. It's a lot of fun and I am enjoying learning about and working with the horses.

The Rascal rides on Casper.

And The Goose rides on Simon.

I like Simon. He is a very old, gentlemanly Morgan. A Yankee horse.

There have been a few art projects this summer.

And what is summer without bike riding?

It is August in Vermont. The days are warm, the nights are not. Autumn is on it's way.

All In Good Time

2008-06-05T04:20:00.000-07:00

I was on the road to cockiness with respect to the analytical skills of The Goose, my five year old. Sometimes in the evening when I am working around the kitchen preparing dinner, she will get her “math game”. Her math game consists of plastic cups that once held yogurt and a pile of colored Popsicle sticks; the kind you buy at the dollar store for craft projects. She lines her math game up in front of her at her place at the table and awaits my quiz questions. I ask her “what is nine divided by three?” and she will count out nine Popsicle sticks and line up three yogurt cups then systematically distribute the nine sticks into the three cups and come up with the correct answer.

Surely this is very advanced for a five year old who has not yet started Kindergarten. Oh yes my daughter has a gift for analytical thinking. Math and science are her strengths. I am full of pride. My daughter takes after me. Before I became a stay at home mom I worked in a research lab performing experiments on the cellular and molecular level. She’s going to be a scientist just like her mom! Yes sir she a chip off the old block. I’m puffed up and full of pride.

Yesterday, when I went to The Goose’s pre-school to pick her up at the end of the school day she was wearing a necklace made from colorful plastic beads and wire. She was very proud of the necklace and I commented on how beautiful it was and asked her if she had made it all by herself. She assured me she had made it all by her self and it took her all morning. She told me it was very hard work and she tried to count all the beads on the necklace once she finished it but there were more than one hundred beads and she couldn’t count that high. I asked her how high she was able to count before she had to quit. She reported that she had counted as high as one trillion sixty eight but then she had to stop.

Well, maybe there are a few things she has to learn before she fills out the application to MIT. I’m walking around with a little less puff.

Hello All

2008-06-02T03:46:00.000-07:00

I am sorry I don’t keep this blog updated. I have good intentions but I don’t have any time. This morning, I have a half hour before I have to get the girls down stairs for breakfast then out the door; the Goose has to be in Underhill for pre-school and the Rascal has to be in Burlington for swim lessons. So here is my half hour seat of the pants update.

We had a week or so of lovely weather this spring.

The Goose got a new bike this spring. She can ride it without training wheels. She is very proud of her new learned skill. Here are some shots of Mr. Yankee putting it together for her.

The Rascal is living up to her nickname. Her sister’s religion class hosted a Sunday morning mass last month. Here she is in the beautiful Ralph Lauren dress I got for her to wear to the mass. The expression on her face will give you an idea of what she thinks of dressing up and conducting herself like a little lady.

You all will be surprised to learn that we have a magic carpet in our house. I purchased a carpet and matching runner at Lowes a few weeks ago. Imagine my surprise when the kids informed me that the new carpet is magic! Here are they are taking Mowgli for a spin on the carpet.

That's it. My half hour is up. I fully intend to be back and post more updates. Don't give up on me..................

Third Anniversary of Heart Surgery

2008-02-08T10:15:00.000-08:00

Happy Heart Day Beautiful!

Moonlight In Vermont or live in monochrome.

2008-01-12T05:27:00.001-08:00

We have lived in this house for 2 years and 8 months. Choosing colors for the walls of each room has been a careful, ridiculously slow process. I have a 41/2” fan deck of all the colors of paint Benjamin Moore makes. Benjamin Moore brags about their color samples; small, nominally priced containers of their colors that contain enough paint for a 2’X 2’ square to be applied to a wall. This is a good idea. A color is only as good as the light that reflects it. One needs to see a paint color in the room where it is to be applied to make sure the light in the room is going to reflect the hue that jumps out at you from the fan deck. Yes, these paint samples are a wonderful idea in theory. The reality is that the particular color you wish to sample is never available in these small, nominally priced sample jars. I’m not sure what is available in those sample jars. Maybe those jars are full of the ugly colors that don’t sell very well. Maybe Benjamin Moore is hoping if they can get you to try the ugly colors, you will decide that they're not that bad and you can live with a minty mango kitchen after all.

I have painted four rooms on the ground floor of my house (kitchen, living room, dining room, family room), two rooms upstairs (The Goose’s bedroom and The Rascal’s bedroom) and I have yet to find one single color that I wanted to test in those little sample jars. And I have tested A LOT of colors. The unavailability of samples of the colors that are candidates for my walls translates into big dollars. Since they are not available in small, nominally priced sample jars, I have to buy a quart of the desired color in order to slap a little of it on the wall. A quart of Benjamin Moore paint comes to $13.77 after sales tax at my favorite paint store.

I am currently in the process of finding a color for the master bedroom. Here is what the “test wall” looked like last week.

I have found just the right color, but it took ten test runs before I found just the right one for the room. That’s $137.70 for all those paint patches. And that’s only ONE room!!!! I still have a playroom, three bathrooms and the front foyer to go. I need to start moonlighting in Vermont.

Winter Doldrums

2008-01-10T04:20:00.000-08:00

I like the winter doldrums. The holidays are over; the year is new; time to think about the real resolutions; time to choose a few free weekends and invite over those friends to whom you made the “oh we have got to get together, it’s been too long” promise when you saw them at that holiday party. I love the winter doldrums get together. Late on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon I serve up a bunch of fattening hors d’oveurs, warm some cider, and light a few unscented candles. I am NOT a fan of scented candles. Did you know that the only light source in Hell is scented candles?

It is also time for personal improvement projects. My evenings are full of Pilates classes and Exercise Boot Camp classes. I am dragging my girls into the tradition of personal improvement projects. We all will be attending a yoga for kids and parents class this morning. The Goose is looking forward to this class with great anticipation. She thinks she is very good at Yoga. Good for her.

I'm hoping The Rascal will have fun with the class. Everything will be OK if she is allowed to sit and observe for a long period of time. After she is comfortable she will attempt a few of the poses she thinks are worth while. God help anyone who says "hello" to The Rascal or looks at her for more than two seconds. If The Rascal does attempt any poses and the instructor attempts any sort of gentle suggestions for correction, the instructor will be admonished with a very loud "NO!". God forbid she touch The Rascal’s personage. Well, if that happens, you will hear about it on the six o’clock news. Everybody just better keep their hands of The Rascal's inner peace. OR ELSE!!!

Long Time No Blog

2008-01-10T03:10:00.000-08:00

Hello!!! Yea yea yea. I haven’t blogged since Halloween. I am one of the last people in the universe who still has a dial up connection. Whenever I get online, I must spend a lot of time staring at a blank computer screen while my Studebaker of electronic transportation methods tries to make it’s way along the Information Superhighway being passed the whole time by rocket propelled Lamborghinis. My only alternative option to the tin can and string technology that I have is a satellite system. They are VERY expensive, notoriously unreliable and while they are faster than dial up, they are by no means as fast as true broadband. In true Yankee fashion, I held out for several years, convincing myself that the dial up connection is all I need. I can send e-mail and keep in touch with a few carefully selected online friends who accept the fact that I am cyber challenged and like me anyway. Well it’s time to swallow my pride and fork over the cheddar and put in the satellite system. Aye yup, I decided to depart from the dinero and get a satellite system installed and I made the call and gave them my credit card number.

It turns out that the megabucks you are required to fork over for one of these systems buys equipment that is speedily delivered to your door by a courteous, smartly uniformed UPS delivery person but the stellar customer service stops there. Your money buys you the privilege of being yet another pawn in a circle of hell designed to torture those in remote areas from the information superhighway. I’ve been waiting since December 20th for the giant satellite dish that sits in the box that it was delivered in to be installed. This coming Monday is the latest installation date they have promised but I have lost faith. I’ll believe it when I’m viewing something on YouTube.

The holidays came and went. Santa came for The Goose and The Rascal and they were pleased with his efforts. The Rascal took a very bad fall on Christmas Eve Day and wound up with a nasty shiner for Christmas. Here she is modeling the Snow White Princess Outfit Santa left for her. You will notice that she has added some of her own style to the classic theme.

The Fairy theme and the princess theme were a big theme with Christmas. Adding their own style is a big theme with my girls.

Hey! Kelly Gave Me An Award!

2007-10-30T03:42:00.000-07:00

Kelly over at Where There’s A Will has presented me with the Community Blogger Award. Wow! Thank you Kelly, I am flattered. Where There’s a Will is one of my top two favorite blogs. Kelly’s chronicles of her family life are palatable and poignant. And she is skillful about educating her readers about Down syndrome and advocacy without leaving a bad taste in anyone’s mouth.

I am passing this award onto the other blog in the number one spot on my list of favorite blogs, Bittersweet penned by Elbog. Elbog has a talent for writing, he is a deep thinker, he is delightfully witty and his devotion to his family always rings true. Enjoy this award my friend. You deserve it.

Literacy

2007-10-14T12:56:00.000-07:00

What if I were a famous celebrity who had tens of thousands of adoring fans who made detailed lists of my daily clothing ensembles, and paparazzi hid outside my house waiting for the chance to snap a photo of me walking the dog or loading the girls into my custom Hummer? If I were THAT famous, one day Oprah would call me up and say “Oh Yankee please please please come on my show? You see, it’s sweeps week and I need your fame to boost my ratings.” I would agree to be interviewed by Oprah. I would sashay out onto her stage, weighing 15 pounds less than I do now, with my long healthy flowing hair that is three shades blonder than it is now, trailing behind me. I would sit next to Oprah and she would say “Tell me about one of the things in your bazillion dollar mansion that you treasure?” My answer would be “Oh my books of course.”

My mother loved to read to me. I have a six volume collection of The Bookhouse; a beautiful collection of children’s stories published in 1925. My mother read and re-read the stories in these volumes to me when I was a child as her mother read them to her when she was a child as I am reading these stories to my girls. I can remember walking to the public library with my father during summer nights after dinner. I would get a couple of books from the children’s section then take them upstairs to the adult section and peruse them as I sat in one of the large wooden chairs waiting for my father as he stood for hours taking books from the shelves, reading a few pages and replacing them until he found two or three to bring home until our next walk to the library. I have The Complete Works of Saki, a book I gave to my father on his 70th birthday. I scoured used bookstores far and wide to find this book.; finally finding success in a used book shop in Tiffin Ohio. My parents are gone now. The Bookhouse collection, The Complete Works of Saki, collections of Kipling, Frost, Dickens….these books bring me comforting memories. But you know it’s like that bumper sticker I saw the other day reads…. “The best things in life aren’t things”. It’s not the books. It’s the love of reading these books. My parents taught me to love to read books. That is what I treasure.

Well I’m not famous; I’m not 15 pounds lighter nor is my hair the color of sunshine but a love of reading books is still something to treasure. I urge each and every one of you to pass this on to your children. Read to your children. Sneak up on them if you catch them reading and snap a picture. You might just win a prize. Kelly is having a contest.

Looser

2007-10-12T03:22:00.000-07:00

I failed abysmally. I failed too keep my commitment to 31 for 21 during the first week. I am not a writer, I am not an activist, I’m an introvert, I live in the last place in the universe where my only option is dial up, my kids always interrupt me when I get on my computer, the dog ate my list of ideas for posts, my tummy hurts, the sun got in my eyes….Go ahead make fun of me, I said you could.

Do I get points for planning on attending our Buddy Walk tomorrow?

Sincerely,
Yankee The Looser

Therapy At School

2007-10-09T04:26:00.000-07:00

With The Rascal’s third birthday came appointments at the school for school related occupational, speech and physical therapy. The first appointment was a disaster. The first half hour was to be with the occupational therapist. The only thing The Rascal said to the OT for the entire half hour was NO. The only skill The Rascal worked on was throwing. She would pick up every cute colorful manipulative the OT presented, hold the OT’s gaze with most defiant stare she could muster and wing the toys across the room.

The second half hour was for the speech therapist to work with her. When the speech therapist sat down The Rascal stood up, made the sign for potty, went into the little preschooler sized bathroom, removed her pants and shirt, and stood at the sink washing her hands while wearing nothing but her diaper and shoes (how she got her pants off wearing her shoes is beyond me). Each time the ST dared suggest The Rascal should stop washing her hands and put her clothes back on she was rebuked with hollering and a diatribe of babbling.

Yesterday’s session was better. The school very kindly adjusted their schedules so that The Rascal could come earlier in the day for therapy. She was much kinder to the speech therapist yesterday and apparently the physical therapist is OK in The Rascal’s book, she was the recipient of full cooperation.

This is going to be an interesting academic career.

Somethin's Gotta Give

2007-10-06T06:04:00.000-07:00

Life is too nuts right now. The Goose needs to be driven to and from pre-school three days per week. Her pre-school is a 30 minute drive from home. She has dance class and horseback riding on the weekends. The Rascal has to be at her school two afternoons per week for one therapy or another, Wednesday mornings are for developmental arts, Friday mornings are for her pre-school classroom experience. The home visiting therapists come once or twice per month. Something has to go. But what? It’s all good for the girls. Well, all but having a mother who is constantly in a tizzy. Hmmmm I could try co-visits. Yes. Yes! That’s it! The home visiting therapist can become developmental arts visiting therapists. They can go to developmental arts and consult with The Rascal’s teacher. Oh yes this is good. The former home visiting, now developmental arts visiting therapists can go on Wednesday mornings and flex their professional expertise at the developmental arts teacher while I am sitting quietly in a corner sipping my Dunkin Donuts coffee, watching my little dumpling play in the sensory room. I won’t even have to clean my house. Oh I’m a genius.

Autumn

2007-10-03T10:56:00.000-07:00

I like autumn. I like the absence of humidity. I like the cooler temperatures. I love the colors of the foliage. I love smell of the dried leaves. But there is a melancholy that autumn brings. There is sadness in the silence that the cold brings to a field that sang with crickets. There is sadness that tugs at you when your attention is called to the sky by the cacophony of Canada geese on their way to warmer climates. It’s hard to say goodbye because you know that winter is on it’s way.

Frost knew this sadness.

A Leaf Treader
by Robert Frost

I have been treading on leaves all day until I am autumn tired.
God knows all the color and form of leaves I have trodden on and mired.
Perhaps I have put forth too much strength or been too fierce from fear.
I have safely trodden underfoot the leaves of another year.

All summer long they were overhead, more lifted up than I.
To come to their final place in earth they had to pass me by.
All summer long I thought I heard them whispering under their breath.
And when they came it seemed with a will to carry me with them to death.

They spoke to the fugitive in my heart as if it were leaf to leaf.
They tapped at my eyelids and touched my lips with an invitation to grief.
But it was no reason I had to go because they had to go.
Now up my knee to keep atop another year of snow.

Technical Note

2007-10-02T03:12:00.000-07:00

I just want to state for the record that I am trying to be a good 31 for 21 blogger. My girls’ birthday post should have been dated October 1 and I just published The Pumpkin Fairy today, October 2. I am being very conscientious by writing my posts a day a head and saving them as drafts. First thing in the morning I get up and I publish the day’s post. This dang blasted computer contraption is publishing the date of my post as the date of the first draft. I am NOT a day behind. I am being very good. This confounded technology gobble-tee-gook is judging me harshly and I don’t deserve such persecution.

The Pumpkin Fairy

2007-10-01T11:44:00.000-07:00

We have a pumpkin fairy. I’m not exactly sure of the year when she started coming to our house. It was at least ten years ago. Back then it was just Mr. Yankee and I. We lived in our little raised ranch with a yellow lab named Miss Chiff. One frosty morning during the first or second week of October we stepped out the front door on our way to work and almost fell over the large orange squash that had been left by the pumpkin fairy. We are now a family of five; Mr. Yankee, me, The Goose, The Rascal and, Miss Chiff’s successor, a black lab named Mowgli. The pumpkin fairy has stuck by us all these years. She is stealthy. We have never witnessed her visits. She always comes under cover of darkness or when Mr. Yankee is at work and I am at the grocery store, at the post office, at the school…

Two years ago we moved from our little raised ranch to another house about a mile down the road. When the October of our first year in the new house rolled around, The Goose and I wondered if The Pumpkin Fairy would know where to find us. It turns out that our pumpkin fairy has a very efficient change of address system.

Happy Birthday To My Girls

2007-09-30T17:05:00.000-07:00

We are kicking the month of October off with the celebration of my girls' birthday. Today is their birthday. The Goose turns five years old today. The Rascal turns three years old today. We celebrated yesterday with a trip to the science museum. Here are some photos.

2007-09-29T05:35:00.000-07:00

Get it down during the month of October. October is Down syndrome awareness month. Trixie has organized a group of bloggers who will post everyday during the month of October in honor of the people with Down syndrome who have touched our lives. Scroll down and check out the list of bloggers to the left. If you'd like to join us click on over and let Tixie know.

This Photographer Is Aces In My Book.

2007-09-03T16:21:00.000-07:00

Louisa Larson did a photo shoot of my girls back in July. I was very nervous about taking them to her home studio. I imagined there could only be two outcomes: 1) they would be afraid of the hot lights and the flashes and Louisa would have two little sour pusses to work with or; 2) they would be overly intrigued by the hot lights and flashes and Louisa would have two cyclones of catastrophic curiosity to work with. I voiced my concerns when I booked the photo shoot. Louisa assured me it would be OK. I was skeptical but I dutifully followed her suggestions for appropriate clothing and I drove the girls to her studio.

Louisa’s friendly, easy going style instantly charmed all three of us. We all talked and laughed while we lounged and relaxed around her studio. Louisa is such a pro. it is easy to forget she is pointing a very intricate looking camera at you when she is talking with you.

When the images from the session were available I was dumbfounded to see what this gifted artist had captured. This photographer captures not only pretty faces but the beauty that emanates from within.

The idea of inclusion seems to come easy for Louisa. During our conversation at her studio I mentioned that I would be hosting The ARC of Northwestern Vermont’s Second Annual Down Syndrome Ice Cream Social at my home this year. Louisa instantly volunteered to come and donate her time and talent. She came and visited with all of us and snapped many pictures as we all enjoyed various flavors of Ben and Jerry’s. The images she took will be compiled with others into the calendar The ARC will sell at the October Buddy Walk in St. Albans, VT.

Here is a link to this very gifted artist’s website. Make sure you enter her blog. Notice that the image with the pink background in the corner at Starbucks in Williston, VT is The Rascal. Then Scroll down to the post titled “Sweet Sisters” for some more images of The Goose and The Rascal. http://www.louisalarson.com/

Sometimes, A Piece Of Paper Don’t Mean A Thing.

2007-07-15T05:15:00.000-07:00

We live on a 5 acre lot in a subdivision that is eight years old. The process we went through to buy our house was typical. We signed a purchase and sale agreement with the developer. We met with the builder and watched with excitement as he built what was to be our home.

We bought our land from the developer because he was the person who held title to the property. He had the piece of paper declaring him, his heirs, sucessors and assigns rightful title holders. We didn’t realize until after we moved in, to whom the land belonged. Ten years ago all of the land on which my pretty house and my neighbors’ pretty houses sit was pasture land belonging to the nonagenarian who lives in the rickety old house that sits on what is now lot number one of the subdivision. It’s a common part of the scenery as you drive through a countryside that once hosted dairy farm after dairy farm. Anachronistic, dilapidated old dwellings with their foundation walls obscured by thick overgrown patches of tiger lilies sitting on lots closest to the road; the neighboring lots host newly built capes, colonials and contemporaries with perfectly manicured lawns. Which houses are out of place?

The nonagenarian retired farmer came to visit us one day. His method of transportation surprised us a little. He walked out his back door, hopped on his four wheeler, drove across all of the perfectly manicured lawns in the neighborhood and pulled up to our front porch. This old dairy farmer paid absolutely no attention whatsoever to the carefully engineered lot lines that were meticulously surveyed, mapped and recorded in triplicate in the town land records! As we talked with this retired farmer, we came to appreciate that this was the man to whom the land belonged. He had farmed this land for all ninety some odd years of his life. He told us intimate details of every square foot of our five acres. He described every spring, every swale, how the water will drain during rain storms, how the snow melt will run, where the soil composition changes to sand and where it changes back to clay. There is nothing this man doesn’t know about our property.

We have kept our five acres as close to pasture land as possible. We mow walking paths through the field so the girls and the dog can go exploring. I have aspirations of planting little gardens among the walking paths and when someone decides that they have a spare four grand to give to us we are going to put in a gazebo.

Unfortunately the old dairy farmer is not the only person who likes to ride a four wheeler around our neighborhood. We have had to construct barricades to keep the four wheeling yahoos out. We made sure that the old dairy farmer could easily remove the barricades so HE can ride through. After all, the land does belong to him. Or is it that he belongs to the land?

The Great Outdoors

2007-06-19T05:14:00.000-07:00

Mr. Yankee is a professional soldier. He has served for 22 years so far. A full time active duty position in Vermont is rare as hen’s teeth. We are fortunate. Mr. Yankee belongs to a unit that trains soldiers in mountaineering skills. These mountaineers have trained all over the world. They have lead expeditions to the earth’s highest peaks. If you get stuck between a rock and a hard place, one of these guys can get you out, usually in a matter of seconds.

You have to be careful about suggesting outdoor activities to a mountain soldier. In their minds, a walk in the woods is a three day backpacking excursion. When I was younger, I logged many miles on Vermont’s Long Trail behind Mr. Yankee. Once upon a clear, cold winter morning I suggested we go for a walk in the winter woods. We drove to Jeffersonville and walked up the road that winds through Smuggler’s Notch admiring the sparkling ice formations on the rocks, appreciating the stillness and crisp air. When we arrive at the point where the road is closed for the season because it’s packed with ice and snow, I expected to turn around and make our way back down to the car. Mr. Yankee dropped his rucksack and pulled out two pair of Koflach boots with crampons and two pair of ice tools. He was ready for our walk in the winter woods.

Packing for a camping trip is entirely different for a mountain soldier too. While I spend hours and hours trying to cram the entire contents of EMS into my backpack, Mr. Yankee looks at me and scratches his head as he places a water filter, a clean T-Shirt and two pair of clean sox into his backpack.

Tomorrow is the second annual camping trip for Mr. Yankee and The Goose. They will be going to one of the state parks. Camping in a state park is not Mr. Yankee’s idea of being outdoors but it is a gentle introduction for a four year old girl. They will go kayaking on Lake Champlain, they will go to the beach, there will be: potties that flush and sinks in which to wash hands. There will be a fire pit in which to burn wooden logs and roast marshmallows. And there will be a lean-to, a lovely luxurious shelter with a level surface on which to place cushy air mattresses and plush sleeping bags. We’ll save the 12 mile hikes over the spine of The Green Mountains, outhouses (or worse), MREs, and bivouac sites for when she’s a little older.

The Lilacs Will Be Beautiful.

2007-05-22T18:19:00.001-07:00

We bought 10 lilac trees to plant in the back yard at the beginning of the month. All ten of the trees were, I thought, a variety called French sensation. These are lilacs that yield deep purple flowers and every tiny little flower is outlined in white. I carefully chose this variety in order that they be complimented by 10 Spiraea bushes that will yield fountains of white flowers.

It has been a wicked month for my new lilac bushes. The beginning of May was unseasonably warm with highs in the mid 70s and lows in the 50s. These warm temps coaxed the lilacs into many promising buds then Vermont’s characteristically erratic weather began to taunt my lilacs. After two weeks of that gorgeous, sunny, warm weather, the temperatures dropped to unseasonably cold highs in the 50s and lows in the 30s. My poor little lilac bushes have suffered frostbite. Not all the blossoms have fallen prey to Vermont’s capricious weather. A few brave blooms on each plant are showing their colors. It turns out that some of these colors are not purple. Five out of the ten plants labeled French sensation are blooming all white.

When I first discovered this, I expected to be very upset. This should really bother me (shouldn’t it)? After all I paid for 10 French sensations. They were all labeled as such. That’s not what I got. They gave me five bushes that were the wrong variety. This is outrageous (isn’t it)? The thing is, I didn’t feel that upset. I still liked these traitor bushes that I watered and worried about.

I called the lady who owns the landscape nursery where I bought the bushes. I asked her for advice about the frostbite and I half heartedly complained that five of the bushes were blossoming white. She was appropriately horrified and immediately offered to replace the bushes. I told her that I would think about it over night and let her know the next day if I wanted to dig up the white bushes and replace them with those that I had originally intended.

I mulled it over at dinner and went out at dusk and looked them over. I still couldn’t figure out why I was not upset about these bushes. They were not the purple ones that I wanted. They were genetically different and they looked different than I had expected. That’s it! These bushes remind me of one of my favorite people on this earth. I called the landscape nursery lady early the next morning and told her I was going to leave those bushes right were they are. They will be beautiful.

Happy Mother's Day

2007-05-13T06:21:00.000-07:00

Need to learn to walk? Put your sister in a headlock!

2007-05-13T04:23:00.000-07:00

Every night after dinner while Mr. Yankee and I are picking up the table and cleaning up the kitchen, The Goose and The Rascal infallibly engage in some form of rough housing. They wrestle, they play a chasing game where The Goose runs all over the first floor of the house and The Rascal crawls after her at lightning speed; or The Goose may decide that she is a world famous dance instructor, just like Miss Lilly in the Angelina Ballerina books, and she will instruct The Rascal in ballet positions. Despite the variety of positions for which the Rascal receives instruction, they all turn out to be The Rascal holding a down dog yoga position for a few seconds.

This nightly ritual drives me nuts. It always involves a lot of loud squealing and screaming. It sometimes deteriorates into hair pulling and hitting. I nervously watch, envisioning The Goose slipping on the tile floor and smacking her head on a sharp corner of some piece of furniture, I worry that The Rascal has not yet been evaluated for atlantoaxial instability. Mr. Yankee and I have tried to establish “no indoor rough housing” rules; “only quite play after dinner” rules. But their need for this kind of interaction always wins and they won’t stop.

Last Friday night was a “Miss Goose The Ballet Instructor” night. The Rascal did her 4000th down dog, but, this time, instead of collapsing in a heap and rolling herself into a sitting position, The Rascal stood up and took her first wobbly steps! There was much celebration and I gained a new appreciation for this loud, nerve wracking ritual.

Here they are in action. And please note that I DO NOT make them wear matching outfits. The Goose likes to do this herself. She waits to see what I dress The Rascal in then she chooses her outfit accordingly.

I'm two! So in your ear.

2007-03-28T04:09:00.000-07:00

The Rascal has been giving us a run for our money lately. She has decided that all the good people who come to the house to provide support and guidance are actually agents of some dark lord. Despite the fact that the physical therapist, speech therapist and occupational therapist have been coming to our house on a weekly or bi-weekly basis for at least the past year and a half, The Rascal has decided that she is fed up with their agendas and she is having none of what they are peddling. She’s a two year old, autonomy is cool.

I’m glad I’m not one of these therapists. I don’t think my ego could handle it. Her occupational and physical therapist visited last week. The minute the occupational therapist walked into the house, The Rascal positioned herself in the middle of the family room floor with legs and arms crossed and glared at her while she tried all kinds of tricks of engagement. None of them worked. Soon after the OT left The Rascal went back to being her happy go lucky self. When the physical therapist came through the door, The Rascal lead her to the dining room window, pointed to the therapist’s car in the drive way, looked at her, waived bye bye and proceeded to play with our dog for the entire PT session.

The speech therapist is coming today. I’m sure The Rascal is preparing herself for a complete hour devoid of verbalization or singing.

Here is what she thinks of the table manners I am trying to introduce.

Grateful

2007-02-18T04:55:00.000-08:00

In a past post I described my experience at The Fanny Allen Walk in Clinic. I whined because it took close to three hours for me to be seen and given my prescription for antibiotics. I really must admit that my whining was not warranted. My experience was typical of a visit to a walk in clinic anywhere in the country. I was low on the triage list (a sinus infection does not an emergent situation make) and I waited for the people who were higher on the triage list to be seen. Many people from other parts of the country might tell me that a three hour wait is a luxury. I might wryly be asked if I was expecting hors d’oeuvres and cocktails during my wait. Well, to be truthful, yea I was, kind of.

I think one of the best kept secretes in my neck of the woods is the quality of health care we back woods, Northwestern Vermont Yankees are provided. Fletcher Allen Health Care and The University of Vermont College of Medicine take very good care of us. This becomes more and more apparent to me as I read accounts of parents of children with Down syndrome from all over the nation. Accounts that relate ignorance and prejudice of health care providers that are hard for me to believe exist.

I have only positive things to report with respect to my experiences with health care providers. The Rascal received a prenatal diagnosis of Down syndrome. Of course Mr. Yankee and I were made aware that terminating the pregnancy was an option available to us. We had to state only once that termination was not the right option for us and that was the last we heard of termination from anyone in a white coat. During the remainder of the pregnancy, I received nothing but quality care that was delivered with compassion and respect. Once The Rascal arrived it became clear that I had seen nothing yet. While the health care providers that took care of me were excellent, the pediatric teams waiting for The Rascal were superheroes. I have never encountered a doctor, nurse, therapist…who is not dedicated to providing The Rascal with the best support they can provide.

The organizations that provide emotional support to families of children with special needs in this area are no slouches either. And the health care community and the support community in this area are far from exclusive. This past August, The ARC of Franklin County had an Ice Cream Social. At this social we all enjoyed an ice cream party at a local dairy farm. While we were having fun visiting, there were a number of photographers running around capturing particularly photographic moments in order to put together a 2007 calendar to be sold at October’s Buddy Walk. One of the people behind a camera was an area pediatrician. Actually, I strongly suspect that he was the sponsor of the whole ice cream shin dig as well as the sponsor of the calendar.

I am grateful to know this pediatrician. He is a very special man. I am grateful to live where I live and there are many individuals within my community for whom I am grateful.

Now. If any of you flatlanders are feeling jealous and thinkin’ about movin’ here so you can take advantage of what I’ve got……take a look at this picture. This is was our Valentine’s Day present.

Update

2007-02-11T04:20:00.000-08:00

Well the winter viruses have not yet retreated. The Rascal's pneumonia has not responded to antibiotics. While she was taking amoxicillin, she developed an ear infection. We spent last week visiting the pediatrician and the ENT. We are assuming her pneumonia is viral and we are happy that she is easily moving air in and out of those little lungs with out any sign of distress. The second course of antibiotic is clearing the ear infection. Yesterday The Goose awoke with a new cold! Yippee.

The Goose went on her first field trip with her pre-school on Thursday last week. Her group accompanied one of the school's dogs to the veterinarian for annual vaccinations and check up. She was very apprehensive in the morning as she was getting ready to go to school. She didn't think she wanted to go on the field trip without me. When she arrived at school and joined her group, she forgot all about her jitters, bid me goodbye and came home from school thinking that she would like to be a veterinarian when she grows up. Good for her.

Here is the new vehicle we bought yesterday. It's a Jeep Commander. It's very nice. It has heated leather seats, and lots of buttons and levers, I have not a clue to the purpose of these buttons and levers but I am slowly wading my way through the owner's manual. Soon I will be an expert. It does have Sirius satellite radio. This makes me very happy. I am a die hard Howard Stern fan. Although, I do have to wait until the girls fall asleep in their car seats before I can turn to his channel. The technology that went into this vehicle is truly impressive. It knows when it's raining and turns on the windshield wipers for Pete's sake. It's kind of like driving a car that is haunted.

This week includes our wedding anniversary on February 13th, I feel as though we are too young to have been married 14 years. Our house is full of sweethearts so Valentine's Day is always special.

That's all for now. Hope things are good for everyone out there. Happy Valentine's Day. E-mail me or leave your comments.

2007-02-03T07:25:00.000-08:00

This is a quick update for those of you checking in for the sake of keeping in touch. A nasty cold virus has wreaked havoc within our household. The Rascal has pneumonia, she seems to be getting better after just a few days on antibiotics. The Goose is having trouble with asthma (she is her mother’s daughter, her grandmother’s granddaughter and so on). She is being very responsible about her inhaler and no wheezing has been heard for a few days now.

I had a rude awakening to our health care system yesterday. This virus has left me with a sinus infection that I can not shake without antibiotics. The Rascal’s PCA worked from 9AM to 2PM yesterday so that was my chance to be able to get out, see a doctor and get some antibiotic with only The Goose in tow. I knew that my regular doctor’s office was not likely to return my telephone call within that 5 hour time frame much less schedule an appointment and actually see me so I didn’t even bother with them. I packed up The Goose, left instructions for The PCA and trekked off to The Fanny Allen Walk In Clinic. There we sat in the waiting area for 2.5 hours before getting into an exam room. It took 40 minutes for a medical assistant to take my vitals, a nurse to take my history and a doctor to prescribe antibiotic and steroidal nasal spray.

Most of you know that, with respect to healthcare, during my childhood, I was spoiled rotten. All three of my mother’s brothers were physicians. There never was any waiting in an office waiting room. When we were sick, Mom would whip up a nice luncheon, call Uncle J or Uncle D and they would stop by for a bite with their black leather bag. Those days are long gone. Nice memories though.

New vehicle shopping is on the agenda today. The Jeep has a squeal that cannot be diagnosed. It has something like 98,000 miles on it. Time to rotate the inventory, we will sell the “really old Honda Civic” (175,000) miles to the backyard mechanic who keeps presenting offers to Mr. Yankee. The newer Honda Civic will then become the “really old Honda Civic”, the Jeep will become the secondary vehicle and the auto for which we are hunting today will become the primary. I am in search of a brand spanking new Land Rover for $20,000.00! I’ll let you know what we find.

2007-01-24T03:49:00.000-08:00

The Rascal is soaking up sign language. Sometimes, if she doesn't know the sign for something she just makes one up. I'm not sure what she is tying to tell us here.

Apparently it was very funny.

Visit To The Cardiologist

2007-01-19T03:39:00.000-08:00

We are headed to the Cardiologist today. It’s time for The Rascals check up. A good report is expected. We are looking forward to the words “Everything looks good. Keep doing what you are doing. We don’t want to see you again for another six months to a year.”
I am visited by ghosts today, ghosts of the NICU stay, the daily echocardiograms, the wildly fluctuating oxygen saturations and fear that she wouldn’t be with us long.

Udate:
The appointment went very well. Her EKG was normal, there no longer is and audible murmur and the valves sound normal. We did indeed hear "We don't want to see you again for another year."

It's January! Dag Nab It!

2007-01-15T04:26:00.000-08:00

I hear there is a winter storm brewing. The radio was predicting that we could get from four to nine inches of snow during the course of the day today. I hope it falls gently and slowly and I hope we get blanketed with nine inches. I want it to fall slowly so the guys who drive the plow trucks have a chance to keep the roads clear and safe. I want to be blanketed because it’s January and I live in Vermont. We had a few days at the beginning of this month with temperatures in the upper 40s! The grass was green and the sap was flowing. That’s just wrong. Bring on the snow! Bring on the deep freeze! I’m a Vermonter dang it!

I took the above picture yesterday. Hopefully I will be able to post one tomorrow in which The Rascal is riding in a sled and the gravel on the road will be under a white blanket.

Well now; this is more like it. We didn't get all nine inches, probably closer to five. The ground is covered, the icy winds are blowing. Things are as they should be during January in Vermont.

Dance Class

2007-01-13T14:07:00.000-08:00

The Goose has dance class every Saturday morning. The Rascal usually stays home with her father while I accompany The Goose to dance class. I sit with the other mothers in the waiting area outside the dance studio, peering through the wall of two way mirrors, admiring our four and five year old ballerinas. The conversation and atmosphere in the waiting area is exactly as you imagine it to be, it’s a coffee clique; a bunch of women feigning social niceties in order to not so subtly brag about their little darlings. The underlying competitiveness and insecurities are palpable. It is an uncomfortable situation to sit through every Saturday morning. I don’t like to be there, but The Goose likes her class and it’s good for her to participate and learn to appreciate beautiful music and dance.

Today, my husband had to work. I had to bring The Rascal along to wait with me while her sister danced. Boy did this kid make waiting fun. She was not the least bit interested in sitting among the members of the coffee clique. As a matter of fact, she was not the least bit interested in sitting at all. She climbed the stairs to the upper dance studio four times. Two ascents were on hands and knees and two were standing while I held her hands and she practiced bending those knees and lifting those feet way up high. The four descents where on hands and knees and belly as she wiggled and squiggled her way down the stairs backwards. She emptied and repacked the bag of toys I brought for her to quietly play with a total of three times. During every unpacking, each toy was greeted with a very loud, joyful squeal, and during every repacking, each toy was shown the sign for “all done”. She observed the ballerinas and applauded enthusiastically. She waived hello to the members of the coffee clique, pointed to the ballerinas, giggled and signed “dance”.

I was happy not to be sitting with the coffee clique today. The Rascal showed me how to have fun in the waiting area.

Life’s too short to sit around and pretend to be nice. You’ll be much happier if you use that time for a good belly slide down the stairwell.