Rock Chalk Babyhawk

Sunday, August 23, 2009

We got invited to the pool last weekend... Babyhawk went down the slide about 20 times with Papahawk. Then she wanted to take a nap:

Babyhawk and I celebrated my 30th on Monday and Babyhawk made a pizza for the first time. (She has had it for dinner about every night since!):

She really can count to 13. I swear:

Then she enjoyed a very pink cupcake!:

Babyhawk has some excellent singing skills:

Ready for night night!:

We got Babyhawk's Halloween costume already (if you know me at all you aren't really surprised). Anyway, she tried it on, refused to take it off and then fell asleep. Can you guess who she is going to be?!?

By the way, this caused great distress at the store when I bought it. The nice lady there in the ears could not understand why I wouldn't buy her a princess costume or at least the Jessie character... why Woody?!? He's a boy!!

Then it was time for Mamahawk's annual summer picnic. We couldn't get Babyhawk out of the moonwalk...:

Have a great week!

1 comment:

Butterball said...: That slide... it INTENSE, as is the pool and the clubhouse. It's been too cool up here for the pools to open (they shut 'em down 70 degrees and below)... Yeah, we definitely live in the north... Great post!; August 24, 2009 at 10:44 AM

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Welcome to Holland

by Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland??I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills...and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy...and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things... about Holland.