On Writing, and… I Got Published.

I’ve always loved writing.  There’s something endlessly fascinating about putting words together.  I envision what comes out of my head as visible music, where the words touch, repel, arch, and dance with each other.  When I read the words of others, sometimes it feels like taking in a song through my eyes.  Words have frequencies and cadence.  No person puts them together in the same way and each time, the result is a unique song that to be repeated, shared, and revisited.  Good writers weave thick chords of musicality into their words that can be examined and felt over, and over, again.

Writing helps organize my feelings.  If one goes to a symphony performance, there is always the tune up in the beginning.  A single note rings out, and the entire symphony joins.  For a minute, it is cacophony.  Discordant noises rub against each other.  Sometimes you hear the quick flit of a scale being played.  Then, the noise settles down and the story unfolds.  Sometimes I’m surprised at what comes out.  Sometimes I revisit what I’ve written and realize I’ve already changed my tune.

Me?  I feel like I’m more in harmonica territory, rather than full symphony.  Still, the act of writing is healing and cathartic for me, so I keep doing it.

Weeks ago, I submitted some of my writing to various places with great trepidation.  I worried about rejection, but even more than that, I knew that I wasn’t entirely clear on why I was doing it.  Mostly, I thought I wanted to reach out to a bigger audience to talk about Down syndrome.  I needed to know if my ideas were shared by more than a few friends. I needed the hope of finding connection with more people who saw parenting a child with Down syndrome similarly as I do. People who would stretch my thinking. I’ve already found many of these people through this blog but I wanted more. It was also an act of spreading my writing wings, as one friend so aptly described it.

Finally, I wanted to know if anything I was writing struck a chord with anyone who didn’t already know me.  I’d had plenty of people I didn’t personally know follow this blog, but part of me questioned it.  Maybe this is reflects my own lack of self-esteem.  Yeah, save it for the therapist, I know.  Problem is, therapy is expensive, so here I am instead.

About those submissions.  Mamalode took my post about my sister dying of SIDS and is running it today.  What I wrote was only tangentially about Down syndrome, which I initially thought was disappointing, but ultimately, it feels good.  It felt good to hear that someone else thought what I had to say was valuable.  Plus, not everything has to be about Down syndrome.  I ponder Down syndrome and disability a lot, but I also realize that it might show a emphasis in my daily thoughts that isn’t there.  I realized that this has been an act of spreading my wings, after all.

So… I’d be eternally grateful if you visited my story on Mamalode (click HERE) and if you’re so inclined, please share with anyone who would find it meaningful.

Well, what started out as a short post turned into something completely different.  Thanks for reading, world.


Happy Anniversary, Baby.

Dear Love of My Life,

Yup.  It has been seven years.  Seems so long ago, yet just yesterday when I was moving into that dorm room down the hall from that tall blonde boy with the ponytail.  (Yes, world, he had a ponytail.)

You know what I loved about you?  Everything.  Well, after the ponytail.  I didn’t love that.  And the handlebar mustache period.  Everything else, though, I loved.  I swear.

Incidentally, I could never seem to quit you.  I’d date other people or even live on a different continent, but you… Seeing you always felt like coming home.  It didn’t even matter the circumstances, I just wanted to exist together. Read the rest of this entry »


Dear Mouse: Big Kid School

Dear 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

Daddy's Girl

Daddy’s Girl


Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started