Wednesday Words: Standing Crooked, Seeing Straight
Posted: August 28, 2013 Filed under: being Korean, Down syndrome, Wednesday Words | Tags: Down syndrome, Korea, language, life changing events, privilege 23 CommentsWhy do people tilt their heads when they are trying to examine something closely? Funny, huh? Seems like you’d want to look at something square on.
There’s a word in Korean “삐딱이”, or bbiddaki (I think I’m slaughtering the Romanization, my apologies, but this is what you get for reading the writing of someone who never had any formal Korean schooling), I’ve heard it translated as rebel, but my mom says it is closer to sarcastic. I think a very literal translation would be one who stands crookedly.
I recently came across a saying that uses this word: “삐딱이만 삐둘어진 세상을 제데로 볼수있다.” My very, very rough translation goes something like, Only one who stands crooked can see the true crooked nature of the world.
I’ve been chewing this over for a while, and I think my peeps are onto something.
When we started figuring out that LP had Down syndrome, the world really did tilt for us. Or, rather, we tilted. Hard. From his perspective, all he did was leave my belly, eat, sleep, poop and try to do his thing. From our perspective? The entire world as we knew it changed in about three days’ time. Not that we aren’t always changing, but that one was an earth-shaking kind of big. I sometimes try to remember who I even was before the diagnosis, and it is near impossible. I try, but that person is foreign to me now.
I’ve mulled over that period in our lives (as I suspect I will continue to do for the rest of my life), and while I do remember a lot of anguish and crying, I also remember that after that first storm was a beautiful calm. I had a strange sense of peace that I could not explain. Each time I tried people kind of looked at me like I was close to a psychotic break, even though nothing was further from the truth. So I stopped trying to explain it, but it didn’t make it any less real.
I’d stood crooked.
Maybe not a rebel, because I never chose to have Down syndrome enter into our lives, but I did suddenly find myself off the beaten path. I found myself looking at the world, really carefully, tilting my head. Crooked.
What did I see? A world that had created such a narrow passage to human worth, so narrow that most people couldn’t pass. A world where human beings were trampling over each other to get through that impossible passage. Creating hierarchies of beauty, intelligence, and ability that serve no one.
It isn’t the first time I’ve tilted my head at the world, and hopefully won’t be the last. I think at the heart of privilege, no matter what the basis, is that it is near impossible to see the distortions that cause inequity in the world. It is important though, whether by chance or through intent, to stand crookedly.
Maybe this means throwing privilege away. Maybe this means reacting to life’s “negative” experiences by leaning in, rather than running away. Maybe this simply means being open to life’s hurt rather than hardening my heart, because at the end, I might look back and realize that it wasn’t hurt to begin with at all. Just a chance to tilt my head, stand crooked, but see straight.
Dear Mouse: Big Kid School
Posted: August 26, 2013 Filed under: Dear Mouse, education, emotional stuff | Tags: D, daddy's girl, kindergarten, Parenting, public schools, SAHM 8 CommentsDear Mouse,
Well. Mouse, you went to school. Big kid school.
School, where there are hundreds and hundreds of other kids. School with many rooms, many teachers, a principal, and a lunch room. I have no idea why, but the presence of a lunch room made it very official for me. SCHOOL.
For how introverted you are and often how anxious you get in social situations, you are very independent when it comes to separation. I can’t explain it. When I dropped you off at her preschool for the first time, all I could think about was how you’d been so impossible to leave as an infant (so impossible that it was the reason I became a stay-at-home mom). I was imagining bawling, boogers, clinging for dear life to my leg. not so much. You ran into the room, put your stuff away, and went to play. I said goodbye you waved, and turned right around to play. No tears, no anxiety, nothing.
Truth be told, I remember thinking, well, either a) I did the right thing by staying home, because now she’s great at handling separation, or b) this kid has completely hoodwinked me and I am a huge sucker for leaving the most promising job I ever had. You’re probably shocked to hear that I chose to believe option “a”.
This morning you strolled into the classroom with a very similar attitude but were greeted with some very, very, very sad little comrades. One poor little boy was actually trying to run away and the teachers kept having to grab him from bolting out of the room. We have some good friends whose son is also going to your school, and he was there too.
When we walked in, your friend was facing away from me. He seemed fine, so I tapped him on the shoulder to say hi. He turned around and I saw that he’d been crying. A lot. Poor little guy couldn’t even really say hello. Too busy sniffling and clutching his lovey. You sort of gave me this, “Um, is this place legit?” kind of look, and I did my best to be cheery. I told you to try to cheer your friend and the other kids up, since they might be sad about leaving their mommies and daddies.
“I don’t really get sad about leaving you, Mommy. I get sad about leaving Daddy sometimes though.”
Well, thanks, daughter. Geez. I know you’re a daddy’s girl, but clearly we are going to need to work on some social finesse there.
I’m going to give you a pass on the last one because you’re in a huge daddy phase, but let’s work on that. I’m not greedy, just a little hug would suffice. (But… I can’t blame you for missing Daddy. He works long hours and I miss his awesomeness too sometimes.)
Happy first day of school, sweetie. May you be joyfully enriched by pipe cleaners, circle time, and Elmer’s glue. xox
Primordial Soup, DNA, and Beauty
Posted: August 24, 2013 Filed under: Down syndrome, emotional stuff, kids, parenting | Tags: Down syndrome, Family, genetics, God, Nature, Parenting 34 CommentsI grew, inside my mother’s body, from a single cell. In that time, I created all the eggs I’d ever have—my contribution to future children. We existed like that, three generations, nested together like Russian matryoshka dolls.





