Happy Valentines Day!

A Slice of the Pie

A Thank you Note

To Scott the Manager of  Great Northern Pizza here in town:

 

Thank you for opening your mind and your heart, for giving Jared his first job, with a schedule and a paycheck,  and for understanding that he needs to start slowly,  just one day a week and just an hour or two for now, but to look at Jared's face, you would think the world had been laid at his feet. I think it  has been. This is a milestone, another step toward independence. And when we go to your restaurant to fill out the forms, those "I have a new job" papers, Jared may not understand W2 or dependents (who ever does?), but he will know that he is valued and that some place needed him enough to pay him. I don't know if you understand how big this is, how important this step is for my son with Down Syndrome. I am aware that places exist in our world that are still wary of taking risks, of gambling with their business by creating opportunities for people with developmental disabilities, but you are not afraid, and for that, I am grateful. Scott, you and your business are modeling for our community what inclusion really means, not just paying lip service to the concept of acceptance, but really doing it.  Sometimes it is more difficult to find a fit for individuals who need extra help, who may not learn things as efficiently as those around them. Thank you for finding a place for our son.  Jared will work hard. You see, his spirit is filled when he is needed; his confidence will soar when he is accepted as an employee, as one of the crew,  not just as a young man with Down Syndrome. And sometimes when he falters or stumbles, I will be there, hiding out in the mall behind your restaurant, reading my book, half waiting for a call from you, but also hoping it doesn't come.

There is a Place

Recently, a friend of Jared's, a senior in high school, a young lady who absolutely loves to sing, was told that, due to a lack of teacher aide coverage, she would be able to just sit and watch the choir sing every day. Sit and watch?! Our children have often been the ones who have to sit and watch while others go to the mall or hang out with friends, or drive, or go to college.  Sure, out kids go to the mall; they hang out with friends, but these are arranged, social times sorted out by parents, organized by those of us who want our kids to have opportunities to be teenagers.  And while these are good and wonderful opportunities for them, it is hard sometimes for out kids to just be, to just do.  So, they sit and watch.  They watch the limousines spill out typical peers in front of prom; they watch as the students who graduated from school last year go off to college, to a life unfettered by "parental arrangement".  So, when they are asked to stay to the side of the group, to sit quietly and take in the songs of those other students who don't struggle with voice, pitch, or tone, it saddens me.  Our children do sound different, but one thing I find when Jared sings with a large group, be it church choir or last year's school chorus, is that my ears strain to hear that voice, albeit untrained and sometimes wavering, and yes, sometimes way out of tune.  I am glad that his distinct sound helps my ears find his music.  It doesn't much matter how it sounds, but that it is heard, don't you think?

     So, it is with this story in mind that I want to share something.  I want to tell of a place, Gigi's Playhouse, where young parents can come to grips with what it means to have a baby with Down Syndrome, a place where our kids can get help with reading, writing, and math; a place where there is a stage where all are welcome to sing, to act, to dance, and where it doesn't matter if you are unable to carry a tune, or can't always get your body to do what it is supposed to do.  I share this because, while the world is getting better at accepting that there are differences, we still need to get better at figuring out that everyone needs a place to belong.  For now, we have buildings and groups of fantastic people pulling for our kids, fighting for their footprint to grow.  Let's hope this is just a start; that Gigi's Playhouse will model for the world, in its own small way, that no one needs to sit on the side and watch, that we can all get up on that stage and have our voices heard.

Growing up With Jared: It's the Same...but Different Part 2

Growing up With Jared: It's the Same...but Different Part 2:      When we dropped Jared off for his week-long college experience, we got a hint of what it must be like to leave a child in a new place,...

It's the Same...but Different Part 2

     When we dropped Jared off for his week-long college experience, we got a hint of what it must be like to leave a child in a new place, with new people, so,  like millions of worried parents before us, we did the only thing we knew to do; we puttered.  We helped Jared take his suitcase and bedding to the suite that would be home for him and his two roommates for the next 5 days. My husband did what a lot of fathers must do in similar situations: He hooked up Jared's phone and made sure Jared was aware of where to charge it. As this was going on, I did what millions of mothers before me have done: I embarrassed my son, pulling out and storing underwear and socks in the bureau, not without Jared telling me to "stop waving his underwear around for everyone to see!"  It occurred to me as we stood in that dorm, that this would be the first time that our eldest son would be away from us without staying with or traveling with another family member. Jared's brother Jake confirmed this for me as he stood pensively watching his big brother make his bed with the help of his roommate. Jake said, a couple of times, "I hope Jared is ok." "He will be," I assured him (and myself) "He'll have a blast!"
     Jared pushed us out then. "You can go now. I'll be fine!" Leaving was strange, kind of like walking away as an invisible string held me to my boy, my oldest son, my Jared.  The same string, I'm sure, that has bound millions of mothers and fathers before me to their fledgling children; the same....but different. You see, Jared will be coming home in a few days, but now there is the possibility that there will be a time when a few days will stretch and when Jared really does go to his adult life and we are the place he visits.  But now, Jared will be back home in a week; a brief stay at "college", but a giant step on this journey.  When he was a baby, he walked; he was 21 months old, but he walked.  Last night, he told me I could leave. He is nineteen years old, but he told me I could leave. Read on...

 Texts from Jared's first night at college:

 Mom: Hi Jared! Put the Iannotti's phone number on your desk!
Jared: OK
Mom: Are you having fun? Remember to let the food people know you are gluten free!!!!  Love you!!!!!
Jared: Love you too
Mom: Is it awesome?
Jared: Yes. Stop texting me.
Mom: OK! Sorry! Bye!!!!

Growing up With Jared: It's the Same...but Different Part 1

Growing up With Jared: It's the Same...but Different Part 1: Jared says that a lot, when he notices someone wearing a similar shirt, or eating something that he's had before: "It's the same, but diff...

It's the Same...but Different Part 1

Jared says that a lot, when he notices someone wearing a similar shirt, or eating something that he's had before: "It's the same, but different."  I always chuckle when he says that. "Then Jared, it's not really the same, is it?" I say.  But I think I know what he means now when he says that.
     This past weekend offered yet another transition for Jared, that from graduate to "sometimes college student."  He is participating in "college for a week": a New Visions program offered at a local community college.  Individuals with special needs go live in the dorms, eat in the dining hall, and take life skills classes.  Since Jared has been saying he wants to go to this particular school when he is done with high school, we thought we would check it out.
     So, this past Saturday, Jared and I went to Target to "college shop".  As we stood there pondering toothbrush holders and travel-size sunscreen, I found myself asking him questions like, "What color soap dish do you want?" and "Make sure you pick up a toothpaste."  I said these things when people were close.  I wanted them to know that my child is going places, that like the tall boy with his stack of sheets and case of powerade, my son too is going to college. It's the same...but different.
     Jared treated me to sushi after our shopping spree (thank you to those of you who gifted Target at his graduation party!)  I  sat across from my son.  Again, I found myself thanking him for buying me lunch, thanking him so the people around us heard.  I'm not sure why I do that; Maybe I'm trying to prove to them that my child is growing up too, that he is a son to be proud of.  I think I'm convincing myself too.  He is a spectacular person, my son.  He's the same...but different.