Buh Bye Delores

Every time I look at a photo of myself or even in a mirror lately, I feel yucky. I’ve been growing my hair out and struggling with gray (which I have in generous distribution).  I’ve stuck it out, but I’m over it.  

I think I was the resemblance I caught to Delores Umbridge yesterday that finished me off. I was terrified, truth be told. 

I’m a low key bohemian. I buy almost all second hand clothing and experiment with different looks, by and large pulling off everything from classic to sassy to flirty. Literally anything but frumpy.

I’m in excellent physical condition and have (so far) been blessed with smooth skin. So why have I been letting my hair get in my way. 
I feel best with edgy, short cuts, and I have a new style picked out. Consider this my before. 

Today color, tomorrow cut. Catch you on the flip side. 

special needs parenting · writing

Standing up and Speaking out

I discovered it in middle school speech class, my love for speaking out about things that matter. I pursued my passion by taking every possible speech related class. One of my highest aspirations was becoming a motivational speaker. 

This aspiration became my job when I became and advocate for children in foster care who were lingering, waiting for families. I loved nothing more than stepping up in front of a congregation on a Sunday morning and moving the whole crowd with my words of passion on behalf of the waiting children.  Then my role changed, and I left the job, dissatisfied. 

Since then I’ve bounced around and been unsatisfied. Until I started writing. 

I have found my voice again, but in the written word. I never considered becoming a writer until a podcast I listened to challenged me to think of what my ultimate dream of success would be. When I outlined my dream, I realized that it was twofold. First would be encouraging other parents who were on similar paths to mine, and second was to be a voice about the disabilities that impact us and our resilience. 

It’s been almost a year since I made that first step, and decided to write a book. Since then I started blogging and have turned writing into somewhat of a vocation. I’m just beginning to make a little money on it here and there, but in other ways I’m gaining traction. 

Every time a parent contacts me after reading something I’ve written, my soul soars!  Indeed, the fact that my words have impacted people walking similar paths brings me incredible delight. Not only that but little by little opportunities arise for me to do more and more in my newly chosen vocation. 

I was recently told by someone I greatly admire that I’m too hard on myself and to hold space for myself in the same way I do for others. It came as part of a pep talk with a small side of scolding.  So I’m here to say that in my own little corner of the world I’m making a difference.  I say this not to brag, but as a deeply satisfied person whose life purpose is expanding. 


Where’s the Sarcasm Ball when You Need it?

We fostered our niece from the time she was 13 until adulthood. She came to us when Hannah was only 4, and I had no experience parenting teens. It was quite a ride. 

One thing that bothered me was how often I caught myself being sarcastic with her, especially when she was less than adept at most things domestic. Hannah was little and I couldn’t imagine saying such things to her.  I simultaneously felt mean doing it and powerless to stop. 

I hadn’t considered myself sarcastic, and was disturbed by this parenting flaw. 

Last year, out of the blue, I found a sarcasm ball on my desk at work. When I enquired about it, the coworker who supplied it bluntly called me the most sarcastic person she knew. 

I was taken aback. I consider myself a nice or good person, which didn’t jibe with sarcasm, but low and behold, here I was declared the most sarcastic person in someone’s entire life. 

I’ve been in the process of some hefty personal development, and one of the things I am learning is that people won’t always like or accept me. 

People will unfriended me. 

People will be annoyed by me. 

People might find me too much. Or not enough. 

And I’m learning that it’s okay to be my sarcastic self, even when I make my teenagers roll their eyes. (By the way, Hannah’s 17 now, and I’m just as cynical with her, it wasn’t Chelsea, it was me). 

That doesn’t make me less or not okay. It means that I’m fallible and human, even though I am perpetually chagrined about it. And evidently more than a bit sarcastic. Who knew? (besides everyone but me?)

parenting · special needs parenting

The Most Wonderful Month of October

October is Down Syndrome Awareness Month.  And ya know what, I’m not doing a darn thing here. 

Between all of the diagnoses we have as a family, it can be a boatload of information, and really, Down syndrome is about the “lightest” of our issues.  If you read this blog at all, you have a clue what we’re about. If you’re curious, explore the Down syndrome tag, but this month there’s no theme, no awareness, just our family being ourselves.