...and he won't stop...

This boy...

He doesn't stop. Ever.

He continues to learn, grow and amaze me.

We've focused much of our attention over the past couple of months on getting Deak accustomed to using his walker. It has been fantastic; and although he tends to meander around looking at lights and making kissy faces...he has gotten pretty strong.

The only problem has been his "not yet discovered" ability of climbing into the walker himself.

The result being that the walker has worked great, but still hasn't quite provided the level of independence I knew he was craving.

A few weeks ago, on a Sunday evening, we were sitting and relaxing together in our family room. Deak was sitting and playing happily on the floor; rolling when necessary. I looked down because I had noticed he wanted a toy placed a few feet away from him and the reach of his arms. Deak then got onto all fours and crawled to it. Just. like. that.

"Blair...um...did Deak just crawl to his toy?" I asked in a sincere tone. I genuinely thought my eyes were deceiving me.

"Ya, I think so," Blair said with the same uncertainty.

That's when the games began.

Abby and I placed several of his favorite toys all around the room ...only to watch him crawl to get them. We cheered and clapped and cried. All together. We were all so proud. Deak's smile was immeasurable.

Mine may have been too.

I did not know how long this skill would take to "stick" for Deak. I was so surprised by it's appearance, that it has taken me a week or two to get over the shock that is actually happening. Mind you, I have not had a crawling child in the home for over seven years.
Seven Years.

And I have wanted, and prayed and hoped beyond belief this day would come for my Deak.

Most parents wait for six, seven, or even 12 months...

I've waited three and a half years.

Three and half years of wondering. Three and a half years of guessing which item Deak was describing with his limited vocabulary/screaming methods.

But, even more so...Deak has waited three and a half years.

Three and half years of seeing the world move around him, and wondering and hoping and praying that one day this world would become his to discover.

Can you imagine the patience this boy has? The faith it must take to understand that although his body and brain work together at a different pace...it is a pace he has accepted and will work his butt off to push through.

He is a light through which I see things clearly.

The world that I think is so hard sometimes just pales in comparison to what he must feel each day.

Just to breathe... just to move his legs.

So...all those therapists and doctors who doubted this boy would move, use both hemispheres of his brain, or progress past being "profoundly retarded."...You can shove it.

My Deak is moving forward.

(Pictures taken the first time the toy cabinet had been open and "accessible" for him. Once he realized I had opened it, he laughed out loud and crawled across the room. Only to pick the Plex Gabba toy that I knew he would want anyway...:)

If I had...

I hate that song, "If I had a Million Dollars."
It's cheesy and it pisses me off every time I hear it.
I know, I know, it's a song...but really, a goat (or whatever dumb thing they say)?
I heard this song on the radio yesterday and quickly changed the channel. Unfortunately, I let it ruin my mood for a few minutes.

I know money is not important, but it's necessary. I know I have more than I need at times, but I also know that there have been times I haven't had enough. I don't need a million dollars, and I actually don't really want it. I just want enough money to do some good and feel peace.
I read all these lame articles on MSN money or whatever, giving rules and advice for governing ones' money - they piss me off too. They mention how "easy" it is to save. You just "do it." Well...they forget to mention that sometimes ones' best intentions and years of college education don't always account for all of life's surprises.

I've tried my best. We are working so hard. But, it's not enough. And, I am so tired.
I think the "bigger purpose" behind this economy for my little family has been clear. We don't need any more "things." Sure, I like nice jeans and cute shoes. I enjoy being able to support my kids with their activities...but, I don't want the fancy house and car. I just don't care about them. I really don't. I don't even think about those things anymore. I just want to be comfortable enough to go to the grocery store without worrying if my debit card is going to be denied.

Really and truly...if I had a million dollars...I wouldn't buy the house on the hill. I might upgrade the car a bit (it's nearing 90,000 miles), but nothing super fancy. I would pay off debt and go back to school. I would buy nice gifts for my family and friends on their birthdays. I would pull out my credit card and give money freely to organizations when catastrophes occur. I would donate enough money to begin a research project specifically designed to help children with Ring 18 syndrome (the first of it's kind), begin a monthly group in Davis County for parents of special needs children which would include dinner/childcare, and open up a private practice/respite for children who have parents with addiction problems.
(*Then I might go to Anthropologie and allow myself the opportunity to buy a "Full-Priced" item. Wouldn't that be a dream?)

I am not a saint, and I will never pretend to be. I know that my list, in reality, would include a few more "out to dinner" splurges, and GapKids clothes purchases than mentioned.
But, really...I don't think my dreams are bad.

Now...I just need to change my attitude so I can actually work to put those dreams into action, rather than whine and mope about life's hand that has been dealt. Heaven knows it could most definitely be worse.

A Whole New World.

I have a ridiculously low amount of ability in any arena that involves movement of my body.I can do the Roger Rabbit quite well...but only because I practiced for a good portion of my third grade school year. In fact, if I'm being completely honest, I have never, not once in my life, been able to touch my toes.

When I was in eighth grade, I begged my mom to sign me up for a tumbling class...not because I really wanted to, but because all the girls who were cute could at least do a cartwheel. I went to class, and was rated and placed with other students based on my ability level.

I then returned the next week, to discover I had been placed in a class with developmentally disabled teenagers.

This is not a joke. It is serious.

So, I guess, I am mentioning all of this as an explanation to the amount of awe I hold for those people who can jump, move their arms and flip. For...I am NOT one of them. Not even close.

Abby had her first competitive cheerleading competition today. She has begged to do this ever since she began watching her Aunt Maddi perform. I attempted to put it off as long as I could...but, Abby can be persuasive.

She LOVES it.
Actually she said today, she loves cheerleading and Christmas. (I am not quite sure where I fit into that equation, but whatever.)
Abby's team placed 2nd (out of six) in their very first competition together as a team. Most of the girls on the team have never competed before, as they are all pretty young. Abby's cute coach was so excited she was nearly crying:)

I am not sure I will ever understand how these cute girls do it, but I know my daughter lights up with confidence when she is performing. Ab is so excited for class and especially competitions...that she can hardly sleep for a week prior. It makes me so happy to see her enjoy something so much, nearly happy enough to try to forget how much this love of Ab's is going to end up costing.

Again...in awe of the flexibility.

Their cute pre-cheer cheer.

Ab is on top and in the middle...the ending pose/stunt.
The mad chaos of pre-pubescent and teenage girls dancing to Lady Gaga and Miley before the awards. Just for one second...imagine all the high-pitched screaming.
Deafening.
Ab and her good friend Kennedy
With Emma and Sadie

Really...I am so proud. I bit half of my nails off in suspense, so I guess I am becoming "one of those moms."

Stay tuned to see if I will wear my "Cheerz Mom" shirt next year.

Not that I'd actually admit that here.

A little Love.

As I sat down to begin writing this, I found myself taking a deep breath and then letting it exhale with a loud "Ahhhhhhh." As simple as that is for me...breathing...it has proven again, that it is something I can never take for granted.

"MaMa...I la ya."
This sentence replays in my head over and over and over.
Deak says it with the most angelic voice, and it is always followed up with a smile and sweet laugh.
Man, I love that kid.
This loving of a child with special needs is so difficult at times, and comes with a certain clause that truly you have to take every moment with you, because things can become very difficult, very fast.
Deak has not been breathing well. And, it has been so long since I have allowed those fears to simmer. Monday night was the worst; Albuterol treatments every 2-3 hours just to contain the dry cough that always accompanies his reactive lungs.
I really thought I was going to lose it this time.
Really. I was hanging by a thread.
I kept saying, "No...I thought this part was done. He hasn't had issues with breathing in over a year. We're done with this."
But, we aren't. Surprise, Surprise.
After about thirty minutes of suctioning and treatments, I left Deak comfortable in my bedroom watching Gabba. I don't think I made it ten feet before I looked at Blair and fell apart.

"I can't do this again."
"He's going to be okay Jenny."
"Okay."

I spotted Ab sitting across the room eating her favorite Arby's roast beef sandwiches (two of them, to be exact) watching with eyes of concern (words aren't her thing.) I chastised myself for being so weak, straightened up, and like any other insane woman, began cleaning the kitchen as a stress reliever. Straightening the clutter and clearing out the sink, left me feeling a sense of control over at least one minimal, yet inconsequential aspect of my life.

Family was called, and per my request a blessing of health was given to my sweet boy. Everyone in the room knew it wasn't necessarily for him...but, for me.
As my dad was lying Deak in his bed I told my mom, "It is just so hard... So hard. Because I never know how sick he's going to get. He gets so sick."
She answered perfectly..."I know. I can't imagine."

A little empathy and love got me through Monday. Deak slept well and has continued to progress with his breathing, although it won't be perfect until this nasty weather changes. My insanity has lead me to believe it is an actual possibility for my family and I to move to Park City and try to escape this horrible inversion permanently.
But, then I remember I would live in a half bedroom apartment.
I have to admit, it doesn't sound half bad if I can keep my sanity and possibly spy a few celebs during Sundance.

The BEST Christmas Ever...

Christmas 2009 has come and gone, but the memories of that morning are filled with moments I dreamed about when I found out I was going to be a mom.

Abby loved every second this year...stuck in the age of excitement, yet old enough to really understand how cool it is to be dropped off a bunch of stuff you really like one Winter Morning.

Every twenty minutes or so, Abby would burst into a sing song"y" voice and yell, "I LOVE CHRISTMAS!" Usually accompanied with some sort of cheer/tumbling routine move. She sincerely could not contain her joy. So fun to be a part of. Abby's list for Santa this year included the ever popular Bendaroos, and "skool close from the gap." So funny that she is old enough to want clothes now.

Deak, on the other hand, was not feeling well. Abby opened most of his gifts and he enjoyed eating his socks and hat, LOVED Munu, and finally, playing with his awesome Yo Gabba Gabba Laptop (which has since broke - not cool.)

Ab teaching Deak how to play

Ab,and her long-awaited "Zebra" bedspread

We spent the day with family, eating breakfast (which Blair makes every year, and is awesome), opening gifts, and eating Christmas Dinner. We were lucky enough to get to meet Hailey, Blair's sister's daughter, for the first time. She is basically a spitting image of Abby at the same age...lucky girls. They live in Alabama, and we don't get to see them often enough.

Sick Deak

Cute Hailey

The whole Howe Clan

New Life.

Last night, I got to hold a brand new baby.
He is perfect.
Jet black hair, dark eyes, olive skin, and cheeks ripe for pinching and kissing.

I found myself lingering longer than I had intended. I obviously enjoyed the company of my friend, and a conversation that mediated somewhere in between Wheel of Fortune and balancing work and motherhood. But, really...I didn't want to leave the tiny little body that so willingly let me cradle and rock him.

"Do you know? Do you know what a miracle it is to have this boy? ... to have him come out with everything working? It just is so amazing."
I just spurted it out...right after we had discussed if the Bowl Game was being shown on her TV.

She shook her head yes, knowing the significance that statement had meant in regards to my experience with Deak. I knew she understood.
I tried to contain my tears, and avoid an uncomfortable silence by quickly changing the subject, and soon enough we were discussing the ugliness surrounding sleepless nights.

As mothers, we understand the beauty of childbirth. The moment that child bearing your blood is breathing his own air, that is it...we are in love. That love changes you...and can change history. We learn to write our own rules and push boundaries we vowed we'd never have to. Love is funny like that.

During my annual life "reflection" I like to call my Birthday, I have been thinking about a decision I made after Abby had just turned two:
I had just graduated from my Graduate program and been involved in a series of very tumultuous and politically-minded dead-end interviews with School Districts.
I went through at least twelve interviews in the first district, several of them requiring second and third appearances. I watched positions given to people who I knew really didn't want to help anyone, they just wanted a ticket out of the classroom.
I felt defeated, and genuinely depressed for one of the first times in my life.
I had resigned to the idea that I was not going to be able to do what I loved, and nearly gave up. As a last ditch effort, I took an interview with a neighboring school district.
I loved this district. I loved their philosophy. I loved their culture. I loved that I would be able to work in a school where several languages were spoken, and different ideas were accepted and encouraged.
That interview took place on a Tuesday around 3:00pm. At around 9:00pm that same evening, as I sat at Kaysville Movie Theatre watching one of the first installments of Harry Potter, I received a phone call. This phone call was from a Principal at a school within the first district, with whom I had interviewed with at least one week earlier. I had assumed this job opportunity had long been offered to another.

He offered me a position, and it was half-time.

I thought of Abby.
Her cute round cheeks and big eyes full of spunk and adventure. She had survived my years through Graduate school and following internship hours. I just wanted to give her a little bit of me back.
But, my heart broke a little inside. I knew that by doing so, I was going to have to turn down my dream job; it was full time.

The following couple of years ended up becoming the two most difficult years of my life. Tears, miracles, and unexpected blessings - one of which came in the form of my present place of employment.

I often wonder what good I would've done at my "dream job." I miss working with the youth and the opportunities for growth I may have found while there, but I do not regret my choice.
I made it with my heart.
I did it for her.

It's a new year, and I am thirty-one.

I am older again. It seems to keep happening every year. It sucks. I am getting to the point where I look in the mirror fully expecting to see a young, 20 pound thinner, wrinkle-free person. I really do.
But, I don't.
I remember not understanding "older" people when they would say, "Oh...but, I still feel twenty-one!" Now, I get it. Inside, I am me. Outside, she is leaving.
The birthdays now have become more contemplative. The surrounding days are mostly sleepless and full of dissections of choices I've made and future goals. I'm pretty confident that I don't have many regrets. Mistakes...oh yes...but, regrets...no. I'm hopeful that I'll mature in my decision making and learn that my heart doesn't steer in the wrong direction.
I wonder how badly I've screwed up my children and dream of perfect relationships as they grow, marry and have grand babies. For some reason, I am really stuck on the grand baby kick right now and have told Abby countless times in the past few weeks that she is not allowed to move away when she grows up. Could you imagine? Ah...my heart already hurts.
I'm at a point in my life where I need to better figure out how to demonstrate what I believe. Game-playing and masks are not a part of me anymore. I've been there...and done that. We all have. I just want to be me. And, I want "me" to become more simple and true. I want to do less things that serve minimal purpose, and more things that are meaningful for my family, friends and faith. Ah, but Faith...that is a place I could become more true. It's a constant balance of my internal anti-authority dialogue and religious activity. I know there is a higher purpose.
Somewhere, amidst all this rambling chaosness that is my crazy head...I decided that one of my life "bucket list" goals is running a half marathon. Easy for some, really not easy for me. I suck at it, and over the past couple of years have had some issues with Vertigo that have made it even more difficult. I am absolutely DETERMINED that this is the year. I have my little training schedule printed and posted, I bought new shoes and an outfit (because really, that is super important), and I've told everyone I know so that I have some people calling me out if I bail. I'm gearing to run the Provo River Half this summer...considering I'm only up to two miles, it's a good thing I have six or so months. I've rented the first season of Glee to get me through the first couple of weeks on the treadmill...and that show is funny.
Anyway these random ramblings are allowing me to become hopeful that I will continue to progress, simplify and become more kind. And, hopeful I will be able to make it last more than a week....
We shall see.