I betcha think this blog is about you, don't you, don't you

Good lord, THIS is why I no longer blog.  It is 10:30 at night, I'm exhausted, and I am just now logging on to blog 1 of 31 for 21 (did you follow that?).  I have too many children to blog.  And my kids don't behave like those other bloggers' kids do.  My kids are wild beasts running amok through the wilderness of boxes, dirty clothes, and yet to be hung picture frames that is my house.

There's another DS mom who has like 12 kids, two with DS, she homeschools, and fundraises and sews her own curtains.  Every time she posts a video, you can hear the sound of a child practicing piano in the background.  PIANO!!  Every damn video.  Trust me, my dear readers (and by "dear readers" I mean you, Mom, because I'm pretty sure you are the only reader I have left), if I ever post a video and you can hear a piano in the background, it's a CD.  Either that or it's totally posed and took me an hour of screaming, half an hour of begging, 20 minutes of sobbing, and finally a monetary bribe to make it happen.  And just for the duration of the video.

I'd ever do that, though.  Too much work.  Seriously.  I'm vain, but not that vain.  Yet, I've noticed since Kelly was born with Down  syndrome that I am a bit more concerned with his appearance and how he is received than I ever was with my other children.  I will go out of my way, sometimes ridiculously, to make sure he looks and acts... well... hells bells, this is my blog so I'm just going to say it... NORMAL.

Please don't misunderstand me.  I think he is adorable.  In fact, since my induction into the Down syndrome world, I find that babies with DS are actually cuter than their humdrum 46er counterparts.  There's just something really cherubic about their appearance.  Cute little noses.  Impish grins.  Almond shaped eyes of the most intriguing, spectacular colors (if you don't know what brushfield spots are, read here and discover than there are truly beautiful aspects to a triplicated chromosome 21).

So why then do I avoid sharing pictures of Kelly looking particularly "downsy?"  Vanity, thy name is Mama.

Adorable pictures like this one are discarded, leaving out one of Kelly's cutest talents -- the cheese ball grin for the camera.  He does this every time I start taking pictures of him.  It's his signature pose.

"I'm a ham!"

Here's the Kellster posing with Daddy.  He's all grins and love and sweetness.  That's what I want people to see when they look at him.  I want people to see KELLY.  The little boy who loves balls and trucks and dogs and his daddy.  He's so much more than his chromosome count.  I guess that's why I try to avoid drawing attention to the physical aspects of his diagnosis.

Then there are times when I worry he's being judged first and foremost by Down syndrome.  I've found myself saying things like, "That's perfectly normal.  All babies do that," or "That has nothing to do with Down syndrome," and "Oh, my oldest did that way more than Kelly." Sometimes there's good reason.  Some people do stare or judge.  You can see it in their faces.

One of Kelly's favorite sensory behaviors is screaming.  Whenever Kelly starts screaming at the very top of his lungs, instead of trying to quiet him down, I just get really loud myself.  "Yes, we are a very loud family.  We're all loud.  Screamers, I tell ya!  We should change our name to the McYellersons!"

Catching flies.

Combine that with my obsessively shoving Kelly's tongue back in his mouth and tapping his bottom jaw to remind him to shut it, and I'm sure I look, and sound, ridiculous.

Often, I feel like Kelly's on stage, representing the entire DS world.  That every little thing he does or says or doesn't do or say is being interpreted by others as an attribute of Down syndrome.  I may be vain, but I think there's a lot of truth to that.  We, as a society, tend to lump people into categories and judge all the people we've lumped together to be the same.  Particularly the disabled.  Even more specifically, the cognitively disabled.  And it's even easier to do with Down syndrome because of the similarities they exhibit.

But not all people with Down syndrome are happy.  Not all people with Down syndrome make funny faces at the camera.  Not all people with Down syndrome have brushfield spots.  Not all people with Down syndrome love their vain ass mama.  But Kelly does.

I remember, a long time before I started having children, watching a show about a little boy born without arms and legs.  His mother said that she took him to a grocery store when he was still a little baby.  She had him bundled up in a blanket and sitting in his car seat in the shopping cart.  He was screaming his head off, she said.  The entire shopping trip.  Once she got him back out to the car, she unbundled him and he immediately stopped crying.  He was hot.  That's why he was crying.  It was summer and she had him bundled up because she didn't want people staring at him.  She thought she was protecting him. She thought she was being a good mother to shield him from the scrutiny of a harsh, judgmental world.  But she was smothering him.  She vowed never to do that again.

This is my unbundling of Kelly.  He's his own man and I [will try] to allow him to shine in the spotlight he deserves.  I'm not perfect.  I'm a mother, after all.  But perfection is rarely achieved, and usually takes something completely IMperfect to bring it forth.  But Kelly knows all about that.  Check out his pose!

CHEESE!

Stick that tongue back in your mouth!  Oh, and that rash?  That has absolutely NOTHING to do with Down syndrome.  Or at least I don't think it does.

Strike a pose, Mr Fishlips.