Colorado 2012

 

I am willingly acknowledging, the yearly Colorado ski trip is not my favorite thing.  Brian and the big girls really enjoy it, but the last few years the trip has been a struggle for both me and Lucy.  Altitude sickness and not being able to ski left us feeling like prisoners in a foreign place. Even options like sledding ended with me and Lucy on the hill behind the house and everyone else on the tubing hill.  I promised her and myself it would never happen again.  When it became clear it was indeed happening again, I started looking for options.  I’m not sure many people understand how extremely hard it is to live life as a forced spectator; to sit on the side and listen to others joy and be told you should learn to be content with your limits. Very thankfully, we discovered an adaptive program at Breckinridge, and so began the adventure.

The Breckenridge Outdoor Experience is a hole in the wall with an assortment of adaptive equipment, a handful of staff, brilliant volunteers, foam pieces, duct tape, and a “nothing can stop us” spirit.  Lucy waited patiently with Daddy.

This is sort of like a big wheel seat mounted on two skis.  She is seat belted in and you can see the handle behind that one of her guides used to steer her down the hill.  The guy on the right told Brian he sold Harley Davidson's all week but he lived for this job.

Jack had his own great instructor at regular ski school.

Lucy got to ride the regular ski lift.  The chair slid between her seat and skis and away she went.  How wonderful to watch Jack, Brian and Lucy all within a few seats of each other.

This girl is front of Lucy also had CP.  She was skiing with a walker that had skis.  We also saw a blind skier and every other issue imaginable.

Gasp!!!  They even skied through the trees.  Lucy moved her arms up and down the entire 2 1/2 hours and moved her body with the turns.  Obviously, she ended each morning completely exhausted.

We didn’t even get her clothes off or lunch in her before she was in really deep sleep.

Skier Jack of course kept going!

Firecracker

 

Hadley turned 11 this week.  We should have known she was a firecracker when the first video arrived.  It clearly stated she was 6 months old, but it displayed a bright eyed, curly headed girl hopping from one foot to the other in her crib.  We were confident they were wrong about her age.  Of course they weren’t, that’s just Had.  By the time we left Russia, she was speaking in English.  And she is still talking, albeit with a VERY southern Kentucky twang.

Hadley once heard Josh Turner’s “My little darlin is a firecracker”  and was confident it said “My little daughter.”  And who could blame her.  By the time she was 3 there was considerable concern she would never live to see five.  She was and is a daredevil. We sometimes joke that we enrolled her in cheer to keep her from tumbling off the roof of the house.  She swam so well that her swim test at the YMCA is signed only with an “H” because she could swim the length before she could write her whole name.  At Hadley’s re adoption in the USA, she gave the judge her name, address and phone number- she was  barely 3.  I asked the guidance counselor at school to place Hadley with a teacher trained in explosives.  Hadley can be nothing short of dangerous, but in the hands of the right person, she can be an amazingly beautiful, colorful, night sky filling, celebration of life.

Ahh the tummy showing days.

We still see this expression.

Hadley is always willing to help with Lucy.

Bear.

Despite the Easter basket, it really was Halloween.  Hadley has been Kim Possible, a power ranger, an Incredible, a cowgirl…. and that one year she was too young to choose and Brianna made them matching princesses.  It is hard to imagine that now.

Hadley and friends.  Aren’t they amazingly beautiful.

Where we Have Been Part 2

Once I drop kids off, I have 6 hours.  Assuming no one is sick or has a dentist appointment etc, I have 6 hours to do it all.  Everything from clean house to carry on a conversation with my husband.  Our after school time is so chaotic that even supper needs to be almost finished. Some days go well, and others seem to get consumed by errands or paperwork. Regardless, the time arrives to do the after school pickup.  When Brianna was homeschooled and the twins were off on Fridays, I seemed to have a better balance of individual attention.  This year, I seem to be racing to fill every one's emotional cups in the few short hours between pickup and bedtime.  It is hard to hear four conversations at once and just proves our minister's evolution theory- I don't have 8 arms or 4 sets of ears.  This particular afternoon, Brianna heads into the primary center to meet her tutor and the rest of us head to the library.  I really do love were I live.  While the rest of the world may claim to be handicap accessible, it rarely is.  We are blessed with a beautiful library with true handicap entrances and a family bathroom- heaven.  The holiday season was already beginning and we needed to kill time before taking Hadley to meet Brian for a chorus concert at the tree lighting.  We looked at books while Jack insisted we needed a video.  Videos from the library are not a good fit for us.  While book fines are usually overlooked or can be paid back in canned food, video fines add up at a dollar a day and we are terrible about returning them.  Jack responded by laying in the library foyer and screaming.  I hoped the fact that he was in the doorway and the door was hitting against him might make a difference, but only after we stepped over him and headed to the car did he finally make his act a traveling show.  By the time we got to Ms. Sullivan's, I was ready to string him up.  He responded by rearranging their rockers on the porch and seeing if their rain spout was "really attached."  Whew!  Get everyone back in the car and drop Hadley with Brian.  It is now dark as we head for home.  Rudolph plays on the car DVD and Brianna zones into her own ipod world.  One would think this might mean a few minutes of peace, but shortly outside of town, the smell hits. The smell that only means one thing- poop.  Hadley manages bodily fluids relatively well, but Brianna began gagging.  We were still several minutes from home so I pulled over in a church parking lot to try and clean up a little.  As I lifted Lucy from her car seat, I really didn't have a place to go other than the grass.  Cleaning Lucy in this state is an extreme challenge.  You have to try and contain her hands as well as get clothes off and clean up the rest of her.  It consumes all of your attention.  I was just finishing and putting her back in the car as a car pulls up behind us with blue lights flashing.  The sheriff steps out and approaches the car to find out what is going on.  To Brianna's pure horror, I told the truth.  Yes, this was an ugly, disgusting mess, but when a law enforcement officer thinks you are beating your child on the ground, I find the truth to be the best option.  I could tell he was unsure of my story, but as he looked in the van, I am sure the smell hit him, and upon seeing Lucy, he smiles and says "I know you.  Can you do an elephant for me Lucy?"  Thankfully, the sheriff is married to the director of special education for Allen County and it is a small town.