This sign is in a place that I can see it everyday. It is in an unavoidable location, and it is seen by all members of my family.

There are two choices you can make… be a worrier or be a warrior. Being a warrior doesnt mean you are always strong and conquer every issue with success.  It means that you don’t get paralyzed by worry that you allow the emotion to take over your life.

Every day I have a choice in my day. To worry about everything from the tiniest to the most extreme, list them all, allow the stress to take over. Or I can be a warrior and recognize that I was only born with two hands and can only complete so much.

The bills. The homework. The dishes. The meals. The laundry.

Did I leave the clothes in the washing machine? Did I remember to wash that special sippy cup? (God forbid the kids just drink from ANY cup, right?) Did I order the dance shoes? Did I remember to order the ketchup on my grocery delivery? It can be overwhelming.

I learned a long time ago that going down a list and attacking one thing at a time was more productive than worrying about doing everything all at once. Sometimes it doesn’t seem that way in the moment, but in the long term it will make a more positive impact.

There are way too many things on the list of motherhood, wife-hood, even life that if I looked at the big long to-do list as one big blob than the stress and magnitude of it all would be too much.

One thing at a time. One task at a time. One breathe at a time.

Here is your daily reminder… sometimes as parents we forget that being more busy does not coexist with being more productive. A product parent is more effective than a busy one.

I have been silent for far too long. What better of a reason to come back than to say thank you. Thank you to the people who without hesitation, reservation, bias, or with untruths fully believe in the potential of those who are “disabled”. They are indeed NOT disabled. They are some of the strongest people I know, and I believe they teach the fully-abled-bodied people more than they will ever realize. I also say thank you to those who treat those with physically or mentally limiting diagnoses just like the fully able bodied community. As a mom to a child who doctors said may never walk, I am touched to every core of my being when I see people and organizations touching the lives of those who were told “you will/may never…..”.

When the thoughts in your head are like your heart and brain are each playing 52 card pick up. But not only do you have to pick up the cards and seperate the decks but also have to clean up the glitter and sand that was thrown. You dont know where to begin…. what card do i pick up first? Do you start with the cards, the glitter, or the sand? It all seems so overwhelming.

de·fect1

/ˈdēfekt/

noun

a shortcoming, imperfection, or lack.

“genetic defects”

Similar:

fault

flaw

imperfection


‘Defect’ has such a negative underlined tone and meaning. It leads to believe that something is wrong or incomplete. As a parent with a child born with the need for some extra attention, love, and support the word defect is disgusting. There is nothing wrong with my child no matter what others may think. My child is not imperfect or less important or incomplete. I have faith and believe my child was given her condition for a reason…. yes, a reason that I don’t know now or may never know in my lifetime, but it was for a reason. Maybe when she is an adult, she will empower someone to believe that they too are capable of great things. Maybe she will set the barre in a ‘special’ sport or make history.

Why are we taught that our differences are what make us unique and special but when we truly have a difference we are told we have a defect and there is something wrong with us?

I recently saw a facebook post written by a mom who has infant twins. She was speaking in such positive ways about her children- the new things they recently learned to do, their little facial expressions, how complete they made their family. And then she mentioned it… one of the twins, her beautiful son, was born deaf. Nowhere in her posts did she share any shred of self pity, regret, or that her son was any less important than his twin sister because he was born completely deaf. I was amazed in how she spoke of him- with such love and admiration.

So many times I hear parents of children with diagnoses speak with such a tone that you feel their heavy heart in their words, that they speak of the whys and what ifs, and what their children are missing out on or the difficulty their diagnosis will cause in their lives. And then there are those parents that even when every issue imaginable seems to be thrown at their children, they only see love for them. The child has the diagnosis not the diagnosis has the child.

As a parent of a child who is special I know that she is indeed special. I look at my child and I know the world will look at her with tinted colored glasses but to me is my perfectly made little piece of heaven. There is nothing wrong with her. She will just do things in her own time and in her own unique way. And I am blessed and honored to be able to have a front row seat.

This right here…. this is where its at! This is what every parent needs during this pandemic. And with a lot of children being homeschooled this Fall, you will need activities for them to do for “gym”. Great for all ages. You will NOT be disapointed.

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I try to be as up front and real with my kids as I can. That does not mean that I always use adult or medical terms with them- I definately do watch my language and change the wording and tone I use and make it as relatable to their world as I can. This includes conversations about death, Heaven, and medical conditions. For example they are aware that sometimes people get so sick that doctors and medicine doesn’t make the person feel better and as a result the only one to take their sickness or germs or pain away is God. God brings you to Heaven to make you not hurt anymore and take away what can’t be fixed by the doctors and the medicine. For example, they know that some people die of cancer and when they go to Heaven they don’t have cancer anymore. They know that if you’re on machines to help you breath or keep your heart working to keep you alive, when you go to Heaven you don’t need those machines anymore. It’s the faith of healing that has made death seem a little less scary and a little less of the final, ultimate end.

One of my youngest has a condition that is unlike other medical conditions it can not be “fixed”. There is no surgery nor medicine to take her condition away. How she is, is how she will be and we take a “learn how to adjust” way of life instead of a “somethings wrong, now how do we fix it” appoach. We have to adjust ourselves sometimes to her, her schedule, and her needs. Many doctors appointments have been added to our calender for her.

Even though I’ve had similar conversations with her before, trying to explain to my oldest about her sisters condition tonight had quite a different effect on me. So in the midst of discussing the condition in as best of kid terms as I can she interupts and says “when she goes to heaven she’ll be ok”. I had to ask her to say it again becuase I wasn’t 100% sure that I heard her correctly. “Its ok, mommy. When she goes to Heavsn she won’t have that anymore. God will make her better”. To some, talking about death is morbid and this could have led to a totally different discussion.  But becuase I try to be as honest as I can with them and instill a level of faith, this comment hit every heartstring there was. That moment she didn’t say something negative about her sister or if she thought it was hard on her to see her sister live with something different than herself,  or if she was mad or sad that she was born the way she was. Instead she said with such faith and 1000% belief in the words that God will make her better when she goes to Heaven. I was in awe at how such a child can have such beautiful faith and grace. Needless to say the next few sentences out of my own mouth were said with tears wtartung in the eyes and getting choked up on some words. I don’t know if the conversation had more an effect on me or her.

As we grow older we hope to also grow more mature. I was recently part of a texting conversation that my teenage self would have said things off the cuff, probably used some colorful language, and the conversation may have ended with hightened blood pressures and attitudes. Instead, I took some time to suck in the words, consulted a friend, and really thought of my words. When I responded, I was proud of my word choice and my response. I couldn’t control that person’s initial message but I controlled how I responded to it. In a day and age with social media and texting, it is sometimes easier to do in comparison to real life face-to-face conversations. Sometimes we are so quick to react instead of think of HOW we react and what effect it may have. I’m in no way saying that I am perfect or doing this for every response, but we as a people should remember to take a minute or even 30 seconds sometimes to just take a breath and think instead of jumping to respond. Imagine what a difference it would have on your day and you relationship with others.