|ity-bity train of torture|
Cleaning, organizing, decluttering has been my mission the last few days. Primarily, to zen my life, my atmosphere, but coincidingly also to give my tormentors less places to hide. I sit at my new desk (thanks, mom) in my clean room, new photo montage wall, little girl sleeping and boys playing with trains that for the moment are all accounted for, watching a thunderstorm dance on our lake. Zen.
|Sean Ocean and Ashley Allbee, my house is slowly becoming a gallery of your work.|
Our oh-so-small house is feeling not-so-small now that I have opened up some space. Kinda like if you want a raise, spend less money.... if you want a bigger house, have less
Knowledge can be a buzz kill, or so my husband says when I have spent too much time reading. The punches have been flying at the Down syndrome community the past few days as I have read story upon story of ignorance and cruelty. Some of it large scale, like Denmark's announcement that they will be Down syndrome free by 2030 ( not that I wish anyone is born with Down syndrome, but seeing as it happens preconception and there is no way to prevent or "cure" it, the only way to be free of it is to encourage or demand abortions). Some of it is smaller scale, personal stories of people being mean to people. If I looked how it felt to read such things, I would have two black eyes and a broken nose.
I want to be someone who could just concentrate on the good stuff. See everything through pretty pictures that crop out the ugliness next to it. Dang empathy, it sucks me in to care. I can't ignore, stay blind, to the ugliness that surrounds us. This is my future, dealing with hurtful comments about my daughter not being worthy enough to exist and trying to educate people on why they are wrong. Figuring out what to say to a parent who laughs when her kid takes a cheap shot on how Fiona is doing something weird without just telling her that her and her son are a-holes and she should teach him manners- cause that's just anger, not educating. Figuring how to reach out, not react.
And then there is my biggest duty of all- teaching my own boys the importance of treating people right. Sympathy doesn't seem to come as naturally to boys as sarcasm and jokes do. Nor does it make them the cool guy in the group. ( There goes my blood boiling again, the thought that to a lot of people making Fiona the butt of their joke is acceptable). It starts off with calling people stinky face, or poop poo butt-favorites that I am trying to correct right now- to retard and gay. Its all fun and games, except that words still hurt and its at someones expense. People hate righteous people, but I hope that my boys be hated over being the hateful.
Thinking about investing in a punching bag to hit every time someone has something ignorant and mean to say. At least my arms will be in amazing shape. However, I don't think adding a large punching bag hanging from my living room really goes with the zen thing. So, I guess I'll just have to keep coming back here to clear my mind.
Say something nice and make someone smile.
I am thankful for my three kids who equally make me happy and drive me crazy.
Thankful for rain that is filling our lake back up.
Thankful for my husbands job.
Thankful that my little sister made it safe to France and is having the time of her life.
Thankful Fiona's feet are straight. And, for that matter, that the boys are too.
Thankful that we finished watching Weeds and that I can finally get to bed at a decent hour.
Thankful for the people who stick up for those like Fiona. The community of special needs families and friends who know like we do that different is different, not bad. Thankful for almond eyes and vibrant smiles, and although its a double edged sword- that I think people with the extra 21st chromosome are amazing but I wish all people could have a normal healthy baby- I pray that God continues to bless people with the difficult road so that we can continue to work on being a more accepting world. Beauty and greatness come in all shapes, sizes, and chromosome structures.
Thankful that I have a platform to express my feelings on, even if no one reads or listens. Its therapeutic for my sole.
Thankful that GQ took the offensive content off their site, and hopefully learned something through all of this.
Thankful for a clean and organized house... well, at least most of it.
What are you thankful for today?