Catching up right here and now involves a whole lot of stuff like snot coming out of my kids, as well as raspy voices and big, splashy sneezes – the kind that explode right in your face, dousing you with all their germtastic glory.
Keeping Mack and Micah relatively snot-free isn’t that bad, but Moxie?! Oh man. Miss Independent gets down and throws tantrums if I try to wipe her nose for her. She’s got to do it by herself and that means she swipes her nose and rubs the stuff all around so her face becomes a mantle, if you will, of Cruste de Mucus.
I try to accept these things as badges of motherhood and be graceful and nurturing in the face of all this…drip but honestly? The stuff grosses me out and it’s a real struggle. I can’t even handle the snot sucker – Mikey is the sole manipulator of that tubular blessing.
So here we are and it’s Monday morning and it’s glorious outside. Mack’s nursing on me as I type over his head. Moxie is slumped down, crusted. Micah talks to everyone as he engages in his morning craftastic activity (I think he’s building a monster). I’m wondering what we can do that will engage everyone and yet not infect the outside world. I’m not sure if such a thing is even possible.
I want to write something really deep and meaningful for World Down Syndrome Day coming up – this Thursday (the 21st) but I’m not sure I have anything very deep and meaningful in me right now. I’m just trying to keep the snot at bay and not drink as much coffee as I want (- which is far, far more than a nursing mother should, I’ll tell you that!).
I’m also casting a lot of long, lingering looks at my painting that I’m working on. My One True Darling got it all set up for me and I find that’s all I want to do anymore: paint. And I’m reminded of the fact that I only continued blogging to the degree that I have because of the difficulty in painting (– with little kids running around, demanding time, with acrylics drying out quickly, with easels getting knocked over, and with concentration getting shattered). My heart really longs to paint though. I’m finding that even a few brush strokes applied here and there perks me up and sets my world much righter.
So here we are. The bookclub is polling a first book to read now – it might be fun for you to join. Here’s the embedded piece that goodreads encourages me to add!
I’m sorry, you guys. New poll. “Don’t Call Me Inspirational” costs over $60! The kindle version is $12 but I don’t think it’s fair to have only one affordable option (if someone doesn’t have a kindle, they would have to shell out a lot to participate…). Let’s hit the drawing board again. Thanks!
The Unheard: A Memoir of Deafness and Africa
The Question of David: A Disabled Mother’s Journey Through Adoption, Family, and Life
Loud Hands: Autistic People, Speaking
Schuyler’s Monster: A Father’s Journey with His Wordless Daughter
It’s Monday morning. Micah’s now belting out “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” in his gravelly, sick (and highly off key) little voice. It simultaneously breaks my heart and makes me smile.
Have a wonderful day.
Meriah Nichols is a counselor. Solo mom to 3 (one with Down syndrome, one on the spectrum). Deaf, and neurodiverse herself, she’s a gardening nerd who loves cats, Star Trek, and takes her coffee hot and black.