Yo soy La Lay

adventures in family, faith, and Down syndrome

The Tortoise and the Hare

Ellie is life in the fast lane.  Full on Autobahn, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, one-stage-to-the-next kind of crazy.  She resisted some milestones, sure.  She waited to walk until the day before returning to daycare at 14 months.  She waited to potty train until the day before returning to daycare at just-over-three. But there has been no down time, no pause.  One day, she babbled, the next, full sentences. Seemingly overnight, she started reading.  We do not teach her these things, she is just a sponge, eager to fill with knowledge.  She learns independent of us.  We are just along for the ride through her life, holding onto the “oh shit” bar as she careens through each stage.

Tessa is the scenic route.  She is meandering through the hills and valleys, pausing to smell the wildflowers, nice and easy down the road.  We stop and look at the map frequently, making sure we stay on the course.  She gives us time to enjoy each phase.  She moves independently of us and the norms that others would deem appropriate.  We are along for the ride with her, too, basking in the sunlight in the backseat while she takes her own route.

Occasionally, my mind drifts to what a third child in our family could be like. Don’t get your hopes up, there are no plans right now. (We don’t seem to make plans anymore, as we know full well that our plans are small and God’s are greater).  I cannot wrap my head around a third – we have a tortoise and a hare, what next?  It’s just funny to ponder.

Free and easy down the road we go.  Kind of fast, kind of slow, but onward.  Always onward.



The Flood

It’s coming…. 

Can you sense it?

I can.  I can smell it in the air, I can  feel it in my bones…

It’s writing season.

We’re baaaaaack!

When the air gets warm and energy goes up, when summer sneaks closer and closer, when time grows just a little more plentiful, my thoughts get antsy.

Writing season.

I’m an early morning writer, usually.  My favorite time to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) is about 5:30 AM.  In the dark of the winter, it’s cold and burrowy weather and though my brain is awake at that early hour, my body digs in under the covers.  But the birds are chirping their good mornings again.  And my commute to work at 5:45 is suddenly looking a little brighter. Around me, the countdown to the end of the school year has begun.
It’s time.  The flood is coming.  The words, the thoughts, the memories waiting in the back corners are bursting their way out.

It’s so good to be back.