Monthly Archives: November 2013

Thanksgiving

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Thanksgiving

This Thanksgiving has been my favorite so far, and the actual day isn’t even here yet! Just listening to Charlotte recite what she learned at preschool every day has been a lesson in life. At four years old, she’s full of amazement, wonder and fun facts (yesterday was something about white and red blood cells that even I didn’t understand).

I love watching her face as she laughs her way through “The Thanksgiving Song”: “I’m glad I’m not a turkey…They stuff you and bake you, and then they all taste you! I’m glad I’m not a turkey on Thanksgiving Day.”

And every day this week, when she’s climbed in the car after school, she starts excitedly talking about gratitude.

“Guess what I’m thankful for today?” The appreciation for life literally pours out of her.

As I was driving her home, I thought, “At what point does this change?”

Because I’ve certainly experienced it myself. As a child, I had that feeling of amazement and gratitude on a daily basis. I remember bouncing a tennis ball against the side of my garage for hours–just enjoying the sun and the feel of the ball in my hand. I was just happy to be alive. Of course, I wasn’t consciously thinking about being alive. But I was enjoying the moment–taking pleasure in the littlest of things.

And as I got older, that feeling began to seep away. First, there were some mean girls (ugh), and I allowed my spirit and sense-of-self to get crushed. Then there was the sinking feeling that came with getting C’s on Math tests. And then there was the pressures of bills and jobs and life. Sure enough, that incredible feeling of being in the sun with a tennis ball in my hand faded and, in its place, came thoughts of “Why me?” and “I can’t do this” and “Life is so hard.” I kept feeling as though life was just dropping things on my doorstep, and I had to deal with them.

I finally realized that it wasn’t healthy to live that way–to always feel as if life owed me something, and it was my fault for not getting the best out of it. My four year old doesn’t feel that life owes her anything. On the contrary, she enjoys all that life has given her, and she voices her gratitude aloud.

I don’t want that shift to happen for her. Is it inevitable? Gosh, I hope not. How can I help her stay grateful for what she has instead of always reaching for something more? Because that’s where true happiness lies–in looking at what’s around us and saying, “Thank you.”

Today I can make a choice. I can always reach for something more, different, or better…or I can land right where I am. So here’s where I am today: I’m in my soft, colorful pajamas on a Wednesday morning. I’m typing away in the study, listening to the soothing sound of rain on the window. My husband is in the kitchen making mac-and-cheese for the Thanksgiving party at school. My two-year-old is still fast asleep in her bed. And the sound of a happy four-year-old playing make believe floats through the air. Thank you, life.

The Best Line of Poetry…Ever

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TheBestLineofPoetry

We went to a Williams Syndrome Conference over the weekend, and we had a fantastic time. (Thank you to everyone who organized it and to all of the speakers!) It’s bizarre how, after 2 years of completely immersing myself in “all that is WS,” I still have so much more to learn. I’ve certainly come a long way from the confused mom who received a diagnosis that she’d never heard of before, but there’s still a long way to go. We haven’t even had our first IEP meeting with the school system yet, and I’ve heard those can be a doozy!

My favorite session at the Conference was a panel of 4 adults (1 man + 3 women) who have Williams syndrome. I was so moved by what they had to say and, also, by how much they’re accomplishing in their lives. In the beginning, I worried that having WS would be so limiting for Emmy, but there are adults who live completely independently, hold down paying jobs that they enjoy, and drive cars. I think there are a lot of misconceptions about WS and its “limitations,” and it was inspiring to hear these adults focus on their many abilities, not their disability.

And then I heard something that floored me — the best line of poetry EVER.

One of the women was talking about her best friend of 14 years, who is “typical.”

What I learned early on is that people in the special needs community (and educators, therapists, etc.) don’t use the word “normal” to describe someone who doesn’t have special needs. Because: (1) The opposite of normal is “abnormal,” and it’s cruel to call someone “abnormal.” (2) What is normal anyway??? I mean, really. Can we even define that word? I certainly don’t think I’m normal…

If you use the word “typical” instead of “normal,” I promise that you will impress all your friends. 🙂

So this woman, who I immediately adored, was talking about her typical friend. And she said: “She sees me as she sees herself.”

I swear that is the most amazing line of poetry I’ve ever heard: “She sees me as she sees herself.”

And it got me thinking: What if we were to see other people as we see ourselves?

The dad rooting for his son even though he’s on the other team…

The cashier who is taking her time even though you want to get home…

The person who is fishing for his MetroCard before getting in the subway turnstile even though he’s holding up the whole line…

The person with special needs who wants to talk to you…

What if we see others as we see ourselves?

What if we were to approach each day looking at strangers and thinking: You know, we’re a lot more alike than we are different…

I’ll give it a go. Why not?

And I’ll close by saying that I am so touched by people who truly befriend those with special needs. It’s easy to judge someone who is different. It’s much more genuine and beautiful and human to connect with that person and find the ways in which you are more alike, than different.