Le Petit Posts...AKA I Have So Many Ideas and Not Enough Time Post

Sometimes I think back to the time before I had babies...I remember vaguely that I thought I had a pretty busy life. I think that if I had my very own Delorian I'd travel back in time and say to myself, "Self take more naps, oh, and also if you think about it, buy stock in hair dye cause you'll be needing alot of it." Sadly, I'm no Marty Mcfly and Doc Brown for some reason doesn't ever visit Florida, so I guess my younger childless self will have to learn all on her own. (I promise I'm going somewhere with this guys....bare with me.)Now present me knows that there really is no way to turn back the clock, but I can't help but fantasize about having just a little more time in the day. Just a tiny bit. A little smidgen. And you know what I'd do with it?

I'd write.

I'd sit at this computer and I'd write. My hands would fly over keys, as my tapping fingers made music, line after melodic line, and my words would be like a vessel to all of my emotions. I would write so that the world could see from my chair. So that they could feel what I feel and hear what I hear. I'd write our life. All of it; because even the tiniest most insignificant little thing is important.

If father time should grant me a whim, I'd make the post "From the Mouth of Babes." I would tell you about August,

and how he stole my heart from the moment that I saw him sitting on the floor of his living room, and that I think I was always meant to know him. I'd tell you how he and his big brother Gray battle low muscle tone and how that same condition is the cause of most physical and speech delays among people with Down Syndrome, and that those two boys have helped inspired me to suck it up through many a therapy session. I'd tell you how I love to talk to his Mommy so she can fill me in on all the Auggie cuteness, the newest being, "Whatcha singing Auggie?"......"My favorite song"...."Nationwide is on your side." And I'd throw in the story of our homecoming from a Mommy/Daddy trip to Jamaica. Where it was apparently jelly fish spawning season, and how as I regaled the story of my heroic evasion of the swarm a four year old Aidann looked up at me so solemnly and said, "Mommy what flavor jellyfish were they? Strawberry or Grape?

If the hands of my clock would turn a bit slowly. I'd write a post about advocacy and this blogs part in my role as a Down Syndrome Advocate. I'd tell you something I shared with another mommy when her role in our community was questioned. We parents are like rivers. Some of us rage and claw at the earth, forcing it to yield or be swallowed up in our path. Others are like a mountain stream, steady and resilient, ever patient as it slowly changes it's course. We may travel at different paces, but we all make changes to the land. I've not yet decided what type of water I am. I'm inclined to feel pretty comfortable as the stream, making change by simply rolling along, but occasionally a great storm will come, and when it does I rage. I rage and I claw and I advocate so fiercely that every word trembles with power and determination, because I want to move mountains, and I want it done today. But then there is this...

 and this....

and this little man, he advocates just by being.

Tonight as my husband comes out to kiss me good night, I'm torn between the heaviness of my eyes, and the conclusion of this post. I want to share how Alli started dance, and how those long limbs lend themselves so gracefully to ballet, when it seems like just yesterday those same limbs were curled inside me. The girl that made me a women is growing up. Occasionally I wish for an exorcist, but for the most part I'm excited to see the big girl she's becoming. My Aidann he's growing up to, and if there are any Granddaddies reading this post, we've got Pinewood Derby coming up, and my boy and his daddy might be going a little overboard on their entry. They may be in need of a little guidance. And Analeigh, sweet Analeigh Rose, she went to timeout today in school. She served her time, quietly got up, walked over and hit her teacher. Then without another word stomped over to the timeout chair and climbed back up. Yes dear readers. She's two.

And with that I'm done. My husbands warm arm and a snugly baby boy awaits. Sweet Dreams.