Yo soy La Lay

adventures in family, faith, and Down syndrome


Two is such a sweet little word.  Two.  Just say it out loud.  Come on, do it.  Seriously.

It makes me smile, and so does this beautiful face:


And so, now she is two and we are smiling.

This isn’t an entry about a path to acceptance or how far we have come.  It’s not meant to tell you all the wonderful things that she has accomplished this year.  I don’t feel like celebrating all the hard work and the progress, I just want to celebrate her and who she is and what she means to our family.

At two, she’s fun and feisty.  She loves to say hello to strangers in the store.  She throws her arms out when she wants to be held and is crazy persistent with her demands.

Her favorite food is vanilla Oreos, which she daintily holds between thumb and index finger and slowly nibbles away at each night after dinner.  One cookie is never enough.

She doesn’t much feel like walking.  Crawling suits her well enough for now.  She has a great stink-eye when she’s not into whatever you are requesting that she do.  The therapists get it often.  So do I.

Her enthusiastic “Hiiieeeeeeeee” when I walk in the door makes me grin every time.

She’s upset by laughter still, but calmed by big hugs.  She loves to read books and make animal sounds.  She gets angry at bedtime.  Bright and early in the morning, she pops up and chatters Ellie’s ear off until she gets a response.

She cracks herself up.

She sings.  It is the sweetest little sound.

She’s been worth every stretch mark and extra pound that I haven’t lost.  Every chaotic mealtime with two small children instead of just one.  Every frantic dash to clean up before therapy.  She’s worth all of the everything.

And really, all of the everything is nothing compared to our love for her and our gratefulness to be raising her.

Two has come quickly.  The other years, I am sure, will be no different.  I am just so thankful to have her to say hi! when I walk in the door, to give hugs in the morning, to steal hearts and change minds and to teach her sister (and maybe some others) a little something about kindness and sharing and love.

Happy birthday, Tessa!



Happy birthday, Bean!

We knew we were in trouble when one of the first words that Ellie learned (after cuckoo) was “beer.”

This kid is nuts! And I can’t believe it, but this kid is now THREE. Good golly, when did that happen??

There has been much fuss over Tessa’s Birth Day. In comparison, Ellie’s was essentially routine. A monumental day for John and I, rookie parents who dutifully painted our nursery, packed our bags weeks in advance, and researched newborns for months in preparation, but blissfully mundane for the others involved.

I was one of those moms who went to the hospital three times and got sent home before it was actually real labor. Three days past-due, I spent the afternoon before her birth buying an obscene amount of antibacterial hand gel from the Bath and Body Works semi-annual sale (which, coincidentally, sits unused in our bathroom cabinet to this day). There, the contractions began.

Labor with Ellie was long, 36 hours from first contraction until her birth. Looking back, I’m certain that she just wanted to make sure that we realized that she was going to be independent from day one.

When our sweet little Bean was born, full head of hair and a healthy cry, I literally sobbed simply because she was a she. It’s ridiculous, really.

Ellie is our go-with-the-flow, fun loving, precocious little comedian. She has the gift of gab and an insane vocabulary that she uses to get a reaction out of anyone who will listen. Everything she says is comical. Her easy-going zest for life is refreshing, but there is a strong-willed streak that makes me pull my hair out in frustration while laughing uncontrollably at the same time. I adore her goofy little laugh, her sweet smile, and the fact that she makes no apologies for liking me better than John. 🙂 Life is never dull for anyone with a three-year-old, but I’ll tell you what… this girl is really, really going to keep us on our toes as she grows older.






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