the wrong side of gray

Lately I have been stuck in a rut. (Side note: when I just typed out "rut", and said it in my head, it looked and sounded weird, so I went to look it up on Merriam-Webster to see how they defined it, and here is the first definition that is listed: "RUT: an annually recurrent state of sexual excitement in the male deer..."). Um, exsqueeze me? Clearly that is not that type of rut that I have been stuck in.
This guy on the other hand....

Interesting stuff. 

Anyway, back to my rut. I don't believe I have shared with you all about our latest living situation. It started last Fall when the lease on our townhouse was about to run out. (The one where we had the big kid conundrum.)  Well, we totally were not feeling comfortable enough there to renew our lease for another year, but we also had no idea what the heck we would do. Having been a semi-nomadic family since the day my husband and I married, I really did not want to move yet again, but I knew that it was going to be best for us. Problem was we had no idea where to go. The biggest issue was the never-ending school discussion. We did not know at that point whether Archie would stay at his current school for several years, or just for a little while... did we want to move closer to Joey's work... did we want to continue leasing... was having a yard a must... apartment, townhouse, house... in-town, further west. We had no idea what we wanted to do, and we were running out of time. 

Joey's mom kindly offered us a room at her townhouse for as long as we needed to get things figured out. So in we moved. And when I say "a room", I literally mean one room. For the four of us. 

There she is.... (yes, you're looking at the entire room). 

To say this has been an adventure would be an understatement. My mother-in-law has been ridiculously gracious and never complains when my kids leave giant messes all over the place. Or when I leave a sink piled with dishes. She has been awesome and we are so grateful that she has let us take over her home these past several months, and I don't want it to sound any other way. 

In the beginning it was so easy for me to keep things in perspective. Having been to Bulgaria and seeing where Archie grew up; having seen how those children lived, every day, piled on top of each other in tiny rooms jam-packed with beds and cribs, it was easy for me to remember at the end of the day that I still had it good. Really good. My family was safe, and fed, with a roof over our heads.

But a few months into it, I heard myself complaining. Whining about not having our own space, and dreaming of the day that we would. I could usually snap myself back into perspective pretty quickly, but it seemed to be getting a little tougher every day. The other day in the car, I had just hung up the phone with Joey after discussing house situations, and I said out loud to the kids, "Oh whatever, I don't even care where we live, as long as I am with you guys I would be happy living in a cardboard box...we don't need a lot of stuff anyway." And Ace quickly responded, "umm mom, it's gonna have to be a big box because actually I do need a lot of stuff."

I don't remember exactly when it was, but somewhere along the line I started playing the waiting game again. I know I have talked about it here before. I guess it is one of those things that I come in and out of. You know, the one where you just sit and wait for life to pass by until you actually start living. Waiting for a situation to change or a season to pass. That's the worst. Putting life on hold. Yuck. It's like, "Hello, lady! You have an amazing life and family already, what the heck are you waiting for?!"

The problem with me (yes, there is only one problem) is that I am such an all or nothing person. There's never any middle of the road, no gray area. And there are times when I find myself on the wrong side of gray. And it sucks. The right side of gray is fantastic, although also completely unrealistic. The pressure to stay on the right side of gray is also unbearable, which is why I only stay on it for short periods of time. For example, I will be the healthiest, cleanest eating, water-only drinking, most self-disciplined person for an extended period of time, and then one day, I give in to temptation and eat a bag of Cheetos or a Cadbury egg, and then it's over. Then the next day I find myself waiting anxiously in the drive-thru line at McDonald's salivating over the thought of biting into that 99 cent double cheeseburger (gross) and those overly (yet perfectly) salted fries. And a large coke. But it never stops there. And this is where the slope gets super slippery and I slide straight down into my rut. (And apparently it's also where Sally sells seashells by the seashore).

The disgusting eating habits are just the beginning. That then translates into my household duties, parenting skills, etc. On the right side of gray, I have myself on strict cleaning routines; on the wrong side, getting a load of laundry into the washer, and transferred to the dryer is about as far as it goes. On the right side, I read to my kids every night; on the wrong side, they ask me if we will ever finish that book we only got to chapter three on. On the right side, I devise and implement discipline systems that actually work on my kids; on the wrong side, I have a white flag permanently waving over my head and I allow two tiny hooligans to run my life. On the right side, I exfoliate and moisturize every night; on the wrong side, I go to sleep in whatever make-up I was able to slap on in the car that morning. You get the picture. It's not pretty. 

And when I am on the wrong side, I am just not my chipper self. Last night I turned down the opportunity to go to a Rockets game with my husband and some really awesome friends because I just felt like "ugh". Like a chunky monkey with no clothes to wear, zits like a greasy 14 year old, and some awkward white girl afro that requires an explanation. And for a person who doesn't care much about what others think (especially about appearance), I still felt uncomfortable enough to know that I probably wasn't going to be able to be myself around these people who are so pretty and seem so put together. (I know, I know, Glennon Melton, they are not as put together as they seem). But I was still feeling inferior.

I hate this "all or nothing" mentality that I have. I hate not being able to find middle ground. Why can't I do things "right" most of the time, but slip in a double cheeseburger or an extra TV show every once in a while.

So I am making the commitment to myself right now. And I am sharing it with you all because they say that sharing your resolutions helps you feel accountable, and helps you keep them.

My real goal is to be able to lay my head down at night and reflect on what a great day I had, and smile about the fun I had with my kids, instead of stressing over the things I didn't get done or the time I wasted.

I am also freakishly excited for summer so thank God it's just around the corner!

Lots of Love!
Lisa

the incredible quinn

One of my millions of favorite things about having Archie as a part of our family is the amazing new friends we have made along the way. Friends we are connected to thanks to that extra chromosome. 

Last September I received a message from an old friend. She let me know that a close friend of hers had just received a diagnosis of Down syndrome for her baby, and thought I could reach out to her. Megan. I wrote Megan immediately and was really excited to talk to her. In the meantime, I received another message from a different old friend from high school, Katie. She explained that her sister had just gotten the news that her baby boy had Down syndrome, and she thought of me. Her sister is Megan. Small, small world. 

As I said before in my post about GiGi and baby Noah, I knew nothing about this part of it all-- receiving the diagnosis, and having a newborn with Down syndrome, but I was so happy that they had thought of me and I was excited to get to know Megan and her family. 

Little did I know, they would quickly become some of our absolute favorite people on earth. We became fast friends. Every time Joey and I left an evening with them, we would find ourselves saying things like, "man, they are awesome...I hope they like us as much as we like them."  Yes, they are that cool. (And yes, we are that big of dorks).

What I loved most about our conversations was their honesty. They shared their fears, their grief, and we got to see them through what has been an amazing journey. 

Anyway, this is a long introduction to a guest post from Megan herself. She is a very talented writer and I am so happy she said yes when I asked her to do this post. So without further adieu, Megan--

In the spring of 2012, getting pregnant was the last thing on my agenda. Brian and I had made the decision to move from Austin to Houston so he could start a new career with his dad’s brokerage firm. It was a difficult choice to make, as we adored Austin, but with a two-year-old and mountains of student loan debt, we knew it was the best decision for our family financially. I was lucky to find a job teaching at Stratford High School, my alma mater, almost immediately after applying with the district, and we knew selling our house wouldn’t be much trouble in the hot Austin real estate market. After being outbid on a number of properties in Houston and spending our last few weekends as Austinites driving back and forth between two cities, we finally made an offer on a 3-bedroom house sight-unseen. When our realtor called to let us know that our offer had been accepted, I immediately felt queasy.

And who wouldn’t in such circumstances? With the purchase of that house, we were making the move official. It was a move from a city that had treated us well the past 12 years; Austin is where I received my education, married my husband, bought my first house, began my career, and had my first child. It was my home. And now we were leaving. Queasiness was completely normal, right? Plus, it was Mother’s Day and I had already indulged in a couple mimosas…

But then I started doing the math and realized there might be more to this queasiness. After a quick trip to the drugstore and a seemingly interminable minute wait, I learned there was more to my nausea than nerves and champagne. I was pregnant.

Based on all the aforementioned changes, it’s pretty clear that it wasn’t the best time to be having a baby. Nevertheless, we embraced it as best we could. We settled into our new home, sold our house in Austin, and eventually began our new jobs. It would have been chaos without the morning sickness, fatigue, and moodiness that accompany pregnancy, but those ugly symptoms just made things worse. I was struggling to adjust to my new surroundings, and really having a hard time with all the changes. We learned we were having another boy, and I foolishly mourned the loss of a daughter I might never have. Little did I know just how silly it was for me to cry over my baby’s sex, because just two weeks after learning that our second child was a boy, we also learned he had Down syndrome.

Looking back on the time we received his diagnosis is a blur of emotion. I felt myself grieving for our son as if he had died, which feels so foolish now. But I wasn’t prepared for this journey. I couldn’t imagine my life with a special needs child and all the hopes and dreams I had for this baby shattered around me like broken glass. It took time for me to realize that the best way to pick up the pieces was to rearrange them in my mind. Raising this child would be different, yes, but not any less rewarding. I learned quickly that my idea of Down syndrome was based on antiquated notions. The possibilities for my child truly were endless, even if it would require a bit more effort and attention from us all.  

The rest of my pregnancy was a blur. Due to his diagnosis, I was being closely monitored so that any possible health issues could be identified in utero. Children with Ds are prone to congenital heart disease and gastrointestinal issues. My weekly ultrasounds revealed fluid around his heart and lungs, as well as calcifications on his liver and kidneys. These things could mean anything or nothing, but the doctors liked to present us with worst-case scenarios, and we waited with baited breath for our guy to make his arrival, not knowing if he would get here safely or not.

Then at 35 weeks, I woke up with a painful contraction. I thought little of it since it was so early, so I went back to sleep. But they kept coming, so I put in a call to my doctor. She asked me to come in just to be safe, but convinced me I was having false labor. When I showed up in her office, I was fully dilated and ready to deliver. Since I had driven myself to the hospital, my husband almost didn’t arrive in time to hold my hand.

On December 17, 2012, over five weeks early and after only one hour of labor, Quinton Robert Emil Mennes came into this world kicking and screaming. The NICU nurses were on hand to look him over, but deemed him healthy enough to stay with us. All the worry and the worst-case scenarios were for nothing. Our son had arrived, and he was thriving. After a few days, he became jaundiced and had trouble breathing, so he was eventually admitted to the NICU, but his stay was short. A week after he was born, just three days before Christmas, Quinn came home and we became a family of four. 

Now my little guy is almost four months old. He smiles and coos and bats at toys. He can roll over and sleeps through the night. He rarely cries. He’s bigger than his older brother Atticus was at this age and manages to amaze us each and every day. We know we’ll face some challenges ahead, but we’ve fallen so deeply in love with this sweet boy that we’re willing to take on the world to give him what he needs. And along the way we’ve been fortunate to meet so many wonderful new friends who are walking similar paths. Our joy in our children’s accomplishments is overwhelming, and our fear at their struggles is well-managed with one another’s support. I think we’re incredibly lucky to have each other and I can’t imagine this journey without them. 

Parenting is the hardest job I will ever have. This would be true even if my son did not have Down syndrome. But he does. And we love him not in spite of it or even because of it. We love him because he is our son, our Quinn, and he just happens to have Down syndrome. It does not define him, it only enhances him. And it makes me so appreciative of everything I have in this life, especially my children.

So thankful for this precious boy and his family. 

Follow Megan's journey on her blog- meganmennes.blogspot.com

Lots of Love!

Lisa 

happy world down syndrome day!

Today marks the 8th anniversary of World Down Syndrome Day. 3-21-13. It is on March 21 every year because Down syndrome is a triplication of the 21st chromosome. Hence the 3-21. Last year we went all out and made T-shirts and a video to spread awareness and to CELEBRATE. It was interesting to see a couple of different reactions to World Down Syndrome Day by people who had never heard of it before. Some of my friends shared the link to my blog post and captioned it, "Happy World Down Syndrome Day!" Then in response to their post, I saw a few comments like, "seems like a strange day to celebrate..." or "Isn't that like an oxymoron?" (Implying that Down syndrome was not a happy thing) and the last one, "I don't think that's how your supposed to say that.." (Meaning that you shouldn't be so happy or excited that it's Down syndrome day....as if it's supposed to be a sad thing).

Well, to those people I say:
"HAPPY..
  HAPPY..
  HAPPY WORLD DOWN SYNDROME DAY!" 

Today is absolutely a day to celebrate. We celebrate our friends who rock the extra chromosome; The brand new babies with Ds in our lives and their amazing parents; The little ones from all over the world who were initially tossed aside and deemed worthless, who were given a second chance at life and are now in loving homes.

We celebrate our son. Without his extra chromosome, we would have never found him. And our lives would not be near as full as they are today. The joy that he brings to our family is truly indescribable.

I asked the kids the other day what they wanted to do to celebrate World Down Syndrome Day this year. And Ace let me know, "we just wanna dance." Archie agreed.

So dancing they did.

Happy World Down Syndrome Day from our family to yours!
LOTS OF LOVE!
Lisa

the next lisa ling

Ace is kicking off her investigative reporting career with an interview with Archie that she would like to share with you all.

She actually wanted to re-do the entire thing after watching the final cut. She was thrown off by a couple of unexpected answers that Archie gave to her questions: "but his favorite color is not red...it's pink! And I thought he would say macaroni and cheese...not pasta!"

But I assured her that her fans would love it just the way it was...

Lots of Love!

Lisa 

a message from my friends

Last Wednesday was "Spread the Word to End the Word" Day. A day to raise awareness about the hurtfulness of the R-word in hopes that more people will take the pledge to eliminate that word from their vocabularies completely. I have done a couple of different posts about my feelings on the R-word.

But I often feel like my voice is not really being heard. Almost as if people are thinking, "oh so all of the sudden she has a kid with Down syndrome and she's some vocab police..."

But the truth is it is not only Archie who I am concerned about the use of this word affecting. It is also my good friends, and teammates who I have known for several years.

There have been a couple of incidents in the last few months that have made me want to fight even harder for my friends in regards to this issue:

I recently had a conversation with a friend who had been throwing the R-word around left and right. Calling various people "retarded". When it was finally pointed out to her that she could probably find a better word, she defended her use of the word. "It's just a word". What I found most ironic about the situation was that said friend was also a special education teacher and in fact used that as her justification for using the word. She went on to explain that people needed to chill out and realize that it's just a word and it doesn't matter..

More recently than that, I saw a post from an old high school friend on Instagram that really got me heated. It was a screen shot of a text conversation between he and a friend. I don't remember the exact words but the gist of it was that he was talking about his training for some athletic event and his friend said to him, "yeah that's great, I am sure the Special Olympics can always use more retards." 

So this dude not only thought that was funny, but thought it was so damn funny that it was screen shot/instagram worthy. Well I was definitely not LOL'ing. But were other people?? It made me sick to my stomach to imagine other people seeing that post and laughing. Was that actually what was happening? I hope that there were at least a few others who were disturbed by that post. I immediately thought of my Special Olympics friends and how something like that would make them feel. They work SO HARD. They fight battles every day that you and I will never have to face. 

So I decided to give them a voice here. My rants may or may not change your mindset on this topic. But I hope that their words will make you think twice...

Lots of Love!

Lisa 

hi-ho the derry-o {the cheese stands alone}

My mom has always said that as a mother, "you are only as happy as your least happy child." I always wished that that would not be the case for her. Out of four children, there was a good chance that at any given time one of us would be sad for one reason or another.  And more than anything in the world, I never wanted to see my mom sad. I also remember thinking, "I hope that doesn't happen to me when I am a mom." 

The other day I was in Ace's class at school when her teacher announced that they were about to take a class vote: Which center would be open that afternoon- blocks or sand table. She gave the kids a few seconds to think about what their choice would be and then said, "okay, if your vote is for the sand table to be open, please stand up." The kids all looked around at each other, no one budging, and then up popped Ace. She stood alone. I could tell she was uncomfortable, and sad. She looked at the other girls in the class (there are only two others) and they jumped up and stood with her. Her eyes beamed with joy and pride.

She had only stood alone for probably ten seconds while the teacher tried to convince any other kids to choose the sand table too, but it felt like an eternity. And in those ten seconds, my heart sank, I wanted to cry. On  one hand I was SO incredibly proud of her for standing alone for what she wanted (I realize it was just a sand table, but to me it was a metaphorical sand table), and at the same time my heart broke knowing she might have felt embarrassed.

It was at that moment that I realized- I am screwed. If something as little as that could have me fighting back tears, what was it going to be like when bigger kid embarrassments and sadness come. It was also at that moment that I really understood what my mom meant. Sure there have been times where my kids have fallen down and cried, or claimed that a friend was being mean. But this was different.

Ace is a worrier. Always looking to the future and worrying that things aren't going to happen the way she wants, the way she needs, them to happen. Before school most days, she is already asking me, "can I sleep in your bed the first tonight?" {Which translates to "can I fall asleep in your bed tonight, and sleep in there all night?"} Her questions are endless, and "we will see" or "I will think about it" don't even come close to cutting it. I can feel her anxiety.

When she does get to "sleep in our bed the first", she must sleep on top of me. 

On Tuesdays after school, she stays an extra forty-five minutes for gymnastics. Buys me just enough time to fit in one extra errand (or one extra show DVR'd from Monday night if I'm being honest). But I am never late to pick her up. Except today. I underestimated my driving time by a couple of minutes, and I pulled into the parking lot at 2:46 (they end at 2:45). Considering that I am usually early to get her, one minute late felt like way more. I ran in as moms were coming out with their kids, quickly scoured the room looking for her, only to find her across the room standing with the coach, sobbing. Even though, it seemed a little ridic that she was crying like that after only one minute-- I mean, most kids were still there, it wasn't as if the place had cleared out-- it still killed me to see her so upset.  Anyway, I scooped her up and told her I was so sorry that I wasn't there right when she finished. She couldn't even catch her breath. And I felt awful.

She was over it before long and was back to her typical happy, goofy self. But that along with the sand table situation have me wondering....

Is it even possible to avoid taking on your children's feelings? Or is that just par for the motherhood course?

So happy she has this boy to ease her anxiousness in many situations.  They seem to do that for each other. 

Lots of Love!

Lisa 

GiGi and Noah

Last September I received an email from a stranger, GiGi. Tears flooded my eyes as I read it:

Hi Lisa, 

Yesterday I found out i'm expecting a baby with downs and as I was in between having the "woo is me's" and the "why me's", millions of thoughts ran through my mind, including termination and adoption.  until I found Ace's video and I changed my tears of sorrow to tears of joy.  Thank you for making me realize my blessing, I only hope my baby is as sweet and happy as Archie.  I wanted to say so much in this email, but in the interest of keeping it short & sweet, I just wanted to say thank you. You have no idea how this has changed my life. 

GiGi

As much as GiGi said we had changed her life, she changed mine the moment I read her email. I was humbled, and I was so thankful for her. 

I could never pretend to understand the feeling of getting that diagnosis. I have never experienced it, and more than likely never will. People call me and Joey "saints" and "heros" and all sorts of titles we completely do not deserve. To me, GiGi is a hero. As a 38 year old single mother of two teenage girls, I can only imagine how devastating this news was initially. Life changing in more ways than she could have imagined a new baby being. When the baby's father learned about the diagnosis, he fled. Completely. Alone, confused, afraid, and against pressure from doctors, GiGi made the brave decision to give life to this baby. 

I don't know what the current statistic is, so I am hesitant to even include any numbers, but according to the always reliable (insert slight sarcasm) Wikipedia, "In the United States a number of studies have examined the abortion rate of fetuses with Down syndrome. Three studies estimated the termination rates at 95%, 98%, and 87% respectively." 
It is very safe to say that the majority of all mothers who receive a prenatal diagnosis of Down syndrome do choose to abort. And please do not mistake this post as me judging any mothers out there who do decide to make that choice. Like I said, I could never pretend to know what it feels like to walk in those shoes. Would it be my hope that those statistics would radically changed, and more mothers would be able to experience the joys of raising a child with Down syndrome? ABSOLUTELY. But I would never in a million years pass judgement on a mother who had to make that heart-wrenching decision. 

GiGi and I corresponded back and forth throughout her pregnancy. She changed very quickly from a stranger, to a dear friend. Her two daughters, 17 and 13, were thrilled to be adding a baby to the family, and when she told them that their new brother or sister would be born with Down syndrome, it did not even phase them. Clearly, GiGi has done a lot right as a mother. 

We emailed back and forth a few times in the last month. I was anxiously awaiting the news of baby's arrival. She chose not to find out if she was having a boy or girl. I couldn't wait to know! 

Then on January 30th, I opened my email and found this:

Noah was born 1/28 @ 8:11pm weighing 6lbs 11ounces and standing 18 3/4 inches tall.  :) He is the love of my life.  Thank you. If it wasn't for you I don't know if I would've been strong enough to be his Mommy. I appreciate you talking me off the ledge.  Lol. And making that video with your monkeys.  It completely changed my life.

I will never pretend that raising a child with Down syndrome is easy. But the joys are more than worth the struggles. And as long as I can help even just one mother see that, then I will continue to share our journey. 

Precious Baby Noah, you are a miracle. 

GiGi, I couldn't be happier that you fell into my life and I cannot wait to see sweet Noah grow up and change the world around him. As he most definitely will. 

Lots of Love!
Lisa 

UNIFIED

This past weekend was one of the greatest and most memorable weekends ever. A while back I wrote a post about Corby's Castle and what was to become of the organization I had worked so hard building in memory of my brother. And what has become of it is something beyond what I could have ever imagined.

This weekend we traveled with our Special Olympics volleyball team to Austin for the Winter Games. Our unified volleyball team (unified teams= half special olympics athletes, half "typical"--whatever the heck that even means-- athletes) was competing in our first major tournament.  

The first night there was the opening ceremonies. So incredible to see a huge gym packed with people who are lifting each other up, so supportive, and so excited. There is really nothing like it. 

We had to be up and at em bright and early the next morning. We stayed in a hotel with our team (which included the traditional special olympics team, and our unified team). Those two teams are under one umbrella- we do everything together. It was amazing to see the responsibility that the athletes take on. There are high expectations placed on them. They are not babied, and no one acts as if they can't handle taking care of themselves. Their parents stayed in a separate hotel so as to make them feel completely independent. They were responsible for being up, dressed and ready to go early in the morning-- and they were always more punctual than our group. 

Our team, The Corby's Castle Towers, consists of me and Joey, my sister-in-law, Abby, her boyfriend, Josh, and our three high schoolers- Kate, Faith, and Holt. We are the "unified partners". Then there are our athletes- Frank, John, Wes, Patricia, Lulu, and Amanda. I cannot say enough great things about our high schoolers. They blow me away. They are incredibly compassionate and I am so thankful that they are a part of this experience. 

Ace and Archie were such troopers. I don't know why it makes me so happy, but seeing them sitting on the sidelines cheering on our team is one of the coolest feelings. They genuinely love our Special Olympics athletes, and vice-versa. I love how blind they are to any differences that exist. And I love how Archie is not different when we are with our team. They love to take care of Ace and Archie. We have all built real relationships, real friendships. That is what is so unique about unified sports. We are not there to help out, we are not there to serve. We are a part of one team. We play by the same rules.  We got frustrated with each other. We supported each other. And just as much as the athletes needed our support, we needed theirs. 

Somehow I made the starting line-up, and played most of our first match. We were up against a team who has been together for close to ten years. Ten years. This was our first time to state. As I watched them warm up the butterflies started going crazy in my stomach. This team was legit. When the game started I truly wanted to barf. I could not believe how nervous I was. And that first game, we did AMAZING. We stepped up our game, and got them off of theirs. Oh and don't think for one second that these games don't get competitive. Oh boy do they ever. We won our first game of the match, which is best two out of three. I think the other team was shocked to have lost. The next two games, we were a bit over excited and totally lost our mojo, and we ended up losing them both. It was actually quite heartbreaking. But we played great and we held our own against a very seasoned team. 

Our next match we got back in our rhythm, and won the match in two games. We ended up winning the silver medal overall. Second place, pretty darn good. {No need to mention that there were only three teams.} Unified sports are still a newer phenomenon, so there are not a lot of teams yet. There need to be so many more! 

I would encourage EVERYONE to be a part of a unified team. Doesn't have to be volleyball- there are tons of Special Olympics sports. There's bound to be something for everybody. I can't wait for the day that Ace and Archie play on one. 

Opening ceremonies

A non-hazardous torch makes its way around

Lucky for us, my brother and sister are both in school in Austin right now-- so we got to spend a lot of time with Aunt May May and Uncle Price. 

Bowling-- Holt and Patrick

Early morning games. Tired baby girl. 

Lulu, John, me and the kiddos. Notice Archie snuggled up on John. He stayed like that for almost an hour while John rubbed his back and he drifted off into sleep. So precious. 

Frank cracking Ace up

The Towers

Relaxing between games 

 

Archie's favorite 

See that sleepy little face...

Ace and Patricia hanging out before dinner

Cool kids

 

Just chillin back at the La Quinta

 

A bunch of silver medalists

Saturday night dance party! This was so much fun. It was an end of tournament celebration. We danced like fools. Archie entertained the entire place for an hour and a half. Ace wore a pretty "twirly" dress, but was too tired to actually dance. She would not let me take her picture. She sure looked cute though. 

Joey gettin all Gangnam Style

Okay cool story. This Special Olympics athlete in the picture below was on the Unified Team that won the gold medal. (The one that beat us in our first match). At the end of the tournament after all the teams had received medals, he came up to me and asked, "would it be okay if I gave my gold medal to your son?" (Archie had been entertaining him and his team earlier that day). I was like, "really, are you sure? no, you keep it..." But he insisted-- he REALLY wanted to. So I took him to Archie and he bent down and put the medal around his neck. He looked him in the eyes and said, "I want you to have this. You're my gold medal." Archie got the biggest smile on his face and hugged his new friend. I don't even know his name but I am so thankful for him. He gave away something that was very important to him. Gold medals are a big deal. Everyone around had tears in their eyes, and as he walked off with one of his unified partners, I heard him say to her, "I just had to give it to him." Later that night we saw him at the dance and he gave Archie an orange balloon. 

Which really came in handy at the crowded dance where he was all over the place and I was afraid I might lose him. (Find Archie in the picture below).

Seriously though, I don't really know why he wanted to do that for Archie. He wasn't doing it for attention, and it wasn't on a whim. He sought me out in a giant crowd at the end of the tournament because he wanted Archie to have his gold medal. It was really an awesome moment. 

After the game we all wanted to go out for ice cream-- so we looked up the closest Baskin Robins. We pulled up to the world's tiniest drive-thru Baskin Robins. Our team packed in and we literally filled the entire place. 

A two scoop limit was set by our coach,  which Patrick inevitably broke. Love him so much. 

Sunday morning it was time to say goodbye. Archie requested pictures with everyone.

It was sad when it was finally time to go as this was the end of our season. We will start back up next Fall. We are already planning outings with our team between now and then though. First things first- a girl's night! 

I love these people so much.

Oh yeah, and our team made the SOTX website-- check it out!!!!!

We are going for GOLD next year!!

Lots of Love!

Lisa