Things I Want to Teach My One-Handed Daughter

The minute we found out baby number two was a girl, I squealed with excitement. Our dream had come true. We were blessed with a son first, and now a daughter would complete our family. We would have been just as happy with another baby boy. A second baby was a miracle in and of itself after two miscarriages, and a baby girl was just the icing on the cake. My mind raced as I began to picture tiny pink socks, a beautiful pink nursery, and a curly haired, blue eyed baby girl in my arms. A list began forming, a list of all the things I wanted to teach her, to pass on to her, to experience with her.

Addy's arrival initially sent all of those thoughts spinning, and left me wondering if I would be able to share those girlie things with my daughter. The fear of missing out on those things gutted me and shook me to my core. Now that Addy has shown us that conquering the world around her is not only going to happen, but happen in amazing ways... I keep adding to the list. Some of them will be tricky for her, some will be easy, and some have nothing to do with her only having one hand.

Teach Her How to Crochet
I learned how to crochet when I was ten years old, being taught by not just one of my grandmothers, but both of them. Each time I saw my grandma, she would teach me a new stitch, help me start a new project, and oversee my progress during our visit. I can still feel her moving my hands through the motions, and smelling her perfume as she leaned over the back of my chair to help me count stitches and fix my mistakes. Now that I have honed my skills, I find it relaxing to feel the yarn slide between my fingers and watch a project come to life. I want to sit in the floor with Addy and a ball of yarn and watch her figure out how to hold the yarn and needle. I want to watch her try, and try, and try, and get frustrated with it, and then try again. I want to share this hobby with her more than I can put into words, but I also believe that crocheting will teach her patience. Hopefully I can pass this along to her, and one day she will be able to make a blanket for her own child just like I did for her.

Teach Her How to Play Softball
I'm not sure I'm going to have to "teach" Addy how to play softball, maybe just help her play. There's no doubt in my mind Addy will figure out how to throw and catch a ball with only one hand, so I'll just offer to help her perfect her craft. Softball was a big part of my life for many years, both playing and coaching. I cherish the memories I have playing on a team, and cherish even more the memories I have from coaching. I want to spend our weekends at the ballfields watching double headers, and cheering on our girl as she proves to everyone that having ten fingers is overrated. I hope that even if Addy doesn't choose softball, another sport will give her the opportunity to prove to others that her limb difference is not a DISability, but an ABILITY.

Teach Her to Love Her Body
I inherited my big ass and big thighs thanks to my mother's side of the family, and only accepted them as being with me forever after meeting my husband...he loves my big ass. I spent years comparing myself to my stick thin and perfectly built younger sister. I have made peace with my body, knowing that unless I commit to starving myself and spending hours in the gym, I will never be a size 6. Yes, I have weight to lose, and I will lose it eventually. But even then, I will never come close to resembling a Victoria's Secret model, I'm just not built that way. I have grown two beautiful babies, I housed them in my belly for nine long months, and earned every stretch mark and both of my cesarean section scars. While I won't be showing them off in a bikini anytime soon, I am proud of them. I want Addy to grow up knowing that she is beautiful, regardless of what society deems as beautiful. She will be beautiful if she is a size 2, and she will be beautiful if she is a size 22. She will be beautiful with one hand. I know that she will at some point have feelings about her limb difference, but she will have her family, and an entire community of truly amazing people who will love her and help her through those feelings. I hope that she will love and accept herself, the way we all love and accept her.

Teach Her to Paint Her Nails & Braid Her Hair
This will be tricky, but it's a right of passage as a girl that you paint your nails obnoxious colors and braid each other's hair at sleepovers. I can't wait for Addy to have girls spend the night, pop them popcorn, line up the nail polish, and then listen to them giggle and squeal as they gossip about boys and sing songs as the top of their lungs. With the help of so many of our friends in the limb different community, there are plenty of YouTube videos and resources for us to pour over to help Addy figure out how to do these girlie things, but I'm sure she will have her own unique way of doing them. If all else fails, I can always take my girl for a mini spa day!

Teach Her How to Cook & Bake
When I was in the first or second grade, my mom tried a new recipe. She spent hours shopping for the exotic ingredients, and hours preparing the meal. Her intentions were in the right place, but as the smell started wafting from the kitchen, my sister and I quickly made up our minds that we were not eating whatever was about to be set in front of us. My dad, ever the supportive husband, told us that since our mother had spent ours preparing it, that we were going to eat it...no matter how awful it was. All of that changed after he took his first bite. A pizza was ordered, and the meal was ran down the garbage disposal. The lesson learned? Learn to cook, and learn to cook well. That old saying the way to a man's heart is through his stomach is true. Ask my husband. I want to pass down to Addy the family recipes that have been at every Thanksgiving and every Christmas dinner. I want her to have my grandmother's sugar cookie recipe, the one that people beg me for and that I refuse to give away. Selfishly, I hope that she will want some of my recipes, and carry on our traditions with her own family someday. I hope that she enjoys being in the kitchen, and that the cooking set I have hidden in my closet for her for Christmas gets put to good use.

Teach Her to Accept Others & Ask Questions
This is something I want for both of my children. Keegan has already shown us how big his heart is, and how amazing his soul is. You never know how a three year old will react to someone being physically different, it took him months before he ever mentioned anything about Addy's arm. When I took him over to Jenn's house for the first time, I wasn't sure what he would say about her being in a wheelchair. I had explained to him that she was in a wheelchair, but still...he's an unpredictable three year old (he thinks she has super powers...it's the cutest thing ever). We've been to several LFP get togethers where Keegan interacts with the kids and doesn't pay any attention to their limb differences. At a park this summer, he befriended a little boy with Down Syndrome, and they spent the afternoon being the "good guys" chasing away the "bad guys". I want them to be brave and ask questions instead of stare, because staring leads to hurt feelings...we've been on the tail end of it, it's not fun for anyone. I want to teach both of my kids that being different is a wonderful thing, something to celebrate, and a chance to educate. I hope that Addy will take notice of her brother's big heart, and follow in his footsteps of being a loving and accepting soul. Nothing would make me more proud.

These are just a few of the things I hope to teach my girl. The list will continue to grow as the years pass by. I know my husband has his own list of things he wants to pass down to the kids, probably more manly things like how to change a tire or tie the perfect knot. I would venture a guess that Addy will continue to teach us just as many things as we teach her. She has already opened our eyes to so many new things, and truly made us all better people just by being around her. She's my sassy little lady, and I know that she will do amazing things and shock us all with what she accomplishes in her life. I can't wait to watch my little girl become an incredible woman. Just not too fast...

The Chik-Fil-A Meltdown: A Lesson in Judgement & Kindness

Beers. Today, I need beers. Beers, football with my feet up, and maybe some crocheting, because yesterday I had the most horrifying parenting experience I've had since becoming a parent almost 4 years ago.

I've read blogs, and articles about how awful parents can be to each other, always judging the way others choose to parent their child, or not parent their child. There are some things I will never be able to understand or agree with, like the decision to not vaccinate your children. Other topics, I am more than willing to hear other points of view, however quirky and insane, and accept the fact that other people make different decisions for their children. Yesterday, I experienced first hand the judgement and disdain from other parents. The worst part? I know whole heartedly, that every single person in that restaurant, if they have children of their own, had been in my position, and not one of them showed any sympathy or understanding.

The day started with good enough intentions, running some errands with a friend and her daughter, and getting out of the house while the husband had drill on on anniversary weekend. The sun was shining, the snacks were packed, and the carseats were rearranged to accommodate everyone into one car. As usual, it took us longer than planned to get out the door, but soon we were on our way and the little girls were snoozing quietly as Keegan played on the iPad in the very cool and very far away third row of seating.

Our first stop of finding a new carseat was a success, with only a slight meltdown. We headed back to the car only to realize we needed to play Jenga in order to get the new carseat into the car. With all three rows of seats being utilized, and two strollers in the car, finding a spot for the new carseat was interesting, but we managed. With our nerves slightly frayed, we decided lunch would make everyone feel better and hopefully stave off any further meltdowns.

We pulled into the parking lot of Chik-Fil-A, and I knew immediately I would have a fight on my hands. While Addy will eat anything and everything placed in front of her, Keegan's eating habits are beyond picky. Picky would be an improvement from where we are. We have tried bribery, sending him to bed without dinner, forcing him to eat what we eat for dinner, and even making him something different. It's always a fight, no matter what. It's stressful as a mom to know your kid isn't eating, even thought everyone tells you "they'll eat when they're hungry", that doesn't make you feel any better about watching your child actively avoid eating meals.

We found a table in the corner with a window into the play place, the perfect spot to be able to watch Keegan play...if he ate his lunch. My friend went up and got her lunch, and a kids meal for the girls to split, then I went up and ordered my lunch and something for Keegan. I came back to the table, and already, Keegan was showing signs of meltdown. "I don't want to eat that", said as he pointed to a catering menu with a picture of chicken nuggets on it. I knew the best way to get him to eat was to promise play time in the kiddie area if he ate his lunch, this has been proven to be successful multiple times, and I figured it was my best chance.

He started nibbling on his fruit cup and waffle fries, and quickly decided he had eaten enough to go play. Wrong. The fussing began as soon as I told him he had to eat more, and I knew the battle was about to ensue. I stayed with my battle cry, "eat more, and you can go play. If you don't eat, you don't play". More fussing. I tried to stay as calm as I could, knowing if I started raising my voice and getting angry, it would only exacerbate the problem. Keegan is a sensitive child to the nth degree. Something as minor as a sticker ripping in half can send him into orbit in a matter of seconds. I really have to watch my tone of voice, the volume of my voice, and my facial expressions when I talk to him, because he is overly sensitive to all of the above. One hint of me getting frustrated would escalate the situation to an all out war. That being said, it's hard to repeat yourself five million times in a matter of minutes and be met with fussing and refusal to eat. I believe the definition of insanity is repeating the same actions and expecting a different outcome? Yep, insanity is my life.

I got frustrated, and I got angry, and I swore up and down with every four letter word I knew under my breath. I promised him that if he ate his lunch, he could play. But I also promised that if he did NOT eat, he would NOT play. The fussing turned into crying, loud obnoxious crying. The teenager sitting at the next table turned around a number of times to make sure I wasn't beating my child, to which I wanted to smack her in the face. What did she know about a child melting down in public? She hadn't given birth to something you love fiercely, put all of your time and effort into, only to be publicly embarrassed by. Her turning around only fueled my anger. By now I was ready to throw my hands up and leave, but I knew that wouldn't teach him a lesson. I stuck to my motto, only now there was the added threat of a trip to the bathroom for a time out. I might as well have thrown five gallons of gasoline onto an open flame.

I took Keegan's hand and led him to the bathroom. I went into the handicap stall, got down on his level, and spoke in a calm voice. I wiped his mouth, which by now was hanging open with drool falling freely as he screamed bloody murder and basically hyperventilated. All because he had to eat his lunch. "You need to calm down. Deep breaths. Happy hands. No hitting. Take a deep breath. Calm down buddy..." Once he settled down to a level I felt he was ready to head back to the table, he went potty, washed his hands, and we headed back to our seats. He asked one question, got the answer he didn't want, and all hell broke loose.

My friend and I looked at each other, she had already packed up most of our things during Keegan and I's trip to the bathroom, and with one look she knew I was ready to go. I cleared Keegan's lunch, completely ignoring his screams of "NO MOMMY! I WANNA EAT! I WANNA PLAY!" I had officially had enough, I had officially hit my breaking point, I was officially ready to scream. At that point, one of the happy Chik-Fil-A staff decided to come by and ask if we needed anything, after already visiting our table at least a dozen times, he felt like this was the exact moment we might need some extra sauce or a refill on our drinks. Really? As politely as I could, I assured him that we were fine, and grabbed Addy ready to make my escape from the hell that was motherhood in public.

I grabbed Keegan's hand and the rest of our crap, and started making my way through the maze of tables, with every set of eyes in our path searing into me. You would think that with all of the staring that happens when we are out in public with Addy, I would be used to the eyes. It wasn't even the staring that got me, it was the judgement. The looks of "control your damn kid", the "Jesus Christ...get out of here". I snapped. I saw red. I found myself staring right back at them, both in an attempt to keep from crying, and to show them that their stares didn't scare me. They hurt, but I wouldn't let them know that. One table in particular really got to me, two parents and two teenagers, all four sets of eyes staring right at me...the mother shaking her head in disgust. I locked eyes with her and said, "Yeah, I'm sure you've never had a kid meltdown in public..." and walked fast for the door with my head held high.

What were they trying to accomplish? Did they really think that they could make me feel worse than I already did? Why were they judging me when I would bet large sums of money they had once upon a time been in my shoes? Not one single person offered to help. Not one single look of sympathy or empathy or anything resembling understanding.

I can whole heartedly admit that before having my two monsters, I'm sure I gave parents who's children were in full blown screaming fits judging eyes. I'm sure I shook my head and thought to myself, "teach your kids some manners". What I can't figure out is why parents feel the need to judge each other, instead of support each other. I can't count the number of times that I've jumped up and offered to help another parent who was clearly struggling. Whether it's offering a snack, or grabbing ice for a kid that was stung by a bee at the zoo, or just holding a door for someone with a double stroller, why not help? What do the looks of judgement do, other than make the parent feel like they can't do their job? Shouldn't we be trying to support each other, help each other, and teach our children that when someone needs help, the right thing to do is to offer? I've been on both sides. I've needed help, and I've offered it, and both instances it felt amazing. I walked away feeling like  someone else understood my plight.

Once we got home, the longer I sat and mulled over the situation in my head, the angrier I became. Those parents with their judging eyes, are the parents of the children who stare and make fun of Addy and other children with physical differences. I know this because I've seen the same stares pointed at my sweet girl. I've read other articles and blogs of parents begging parents of the staring children to have a conversation with them about kindness, acceptance, and how asking questions and approaching someone with a difference is better than the pointing, whispering and staring. The past month alone, I have read about a mother's experience with her child in a new school, and the less than warm reception they received, and another mother battling rude children telling her daughter that she's fat. How can we expect our children to act kind when parents are just as guilty of pointing, whispering, staring and judging other parents?

We have to break the cycle. We have to make a conscious decision to both teach and act in kindness. There's that old adage, "actions speak louder than words", we as parents need to live by this. So here I am, another parent, begging parents to take action. It's not only your responsibility to teach your children about accepting differences, but to show them how to accept the differences by offering help, asking questions, walking up and introducing yourself. It's easy to say we accept differences, but it's harder to show that you accept differences. I'm challenging anyone that reads this to act. If you see someone who needs help, who looks different than you: show them acceptance. Show them kindness, show them that you've broken the cycle. Wouldn't the world be better place if we could break the cycle and live in kindness?

Happy to have Daddy home from drill!