A lot like owning a Jeep

I used to write things in this blog once in a great while just to blow off some steam and to make the extremely limited audience laugh by making me the butt of the jokes. I was proud of my post yesterday and got a lot of great feedback. There's something therapeutic about typing my thoughts. I'll admit, and if you know me well you also know, that to a fault, I am constantly thinking and having new ideas, and the thought of not painting the picture of these thoughts as accurately or complete as they come to me or skipping an important one for a less profound one feels a bit paralyzing. Unfortunately for my wife, I carry that same theory into many aspects of my life – for example - home improvement, which results in many unfinished projects. How's that saying go? Paralysis by Analysis?

I use the wrong words a lot, spell things incorrectly, use too many dashes – and instead of ending a thought, create paragraph long run-on sentences. However, I figure, whether people follow this or not, I think it might be a good idea for me to log some of my thoughts as we wait for the arrival of Gracie.

Earlier this week we went to Costco – after checking out with our standard cart full of dog food and bulk candy, Carrie talked me into stopping at the food court up front for dinner (nothing but the best for the Delaney's). As I sat there eating my hotdog and people watching, it's like the pending arrival of Gracie has given me a new sensitivity to notice people with disabilities. I equate it to when I first got a Jeep – I never really noticed how many Jeeps are actually out there on the road until I started driving one myself. Jeeps are everywhere. There are new jeeps – old jeeps – some that barely run - and some that run so smooth, you'd swear it's a luxury vehicle. I like Jeeps – when you have one, you can pretty much do everything you can do in any other car on the road – My buddy Steve has this real old military Jeep at the cabin – Sure, it sticks out a bit and if you took it out on the highway, it won't go as fast as the other cars - but you can drive it around town pretty much just like any other vehicle. Some people stare when they watch him try to start it (flip the battery, turn the key, step on a button on the floor while giving it just enough gas) -- They don't understand how it works because it's so different than how they're used to doing it. Others stare with envy because riding around in it is so much fun. The good thing is unlike the Jeep – the other vehicles can't take the top off and more than likely have to think twice before leaving the paved road and driving through the woods. I'm guessing having Gracie will be a lot like if we let Lylli drive Steve's Jeep at the cabin – We'll do what we can to stay close to the paved roads and probably be on them at times, but we will also probably spend a lot of time in the woods, but that's OK -- It's a Jeep and we'll probably have more fun that way anyway.

Not just a new chapter, but a whole different book

After receiving the news that our unborn daughter, Gracie, has Down Syndrome, I find myself feeling like, and have been told by others that, I need to grieve, but I just can't. I see the sorrow in the eyes in almost everybody that I tell - but it truly is unnecessary. We are so lucky that we have been chosen to receive this gift. Every person that I've spoken to that has become the parent of a child with DS has told me that it's the best thing that has ever happened to them. Explain to me how this should be sad? I think about how much she will teach us and our other daughter Lylli about compassion and understanding and about inclusion. I look forward to the endless number of things that she will teach us every day. I know she will help me to become a more patient and better father - husband - man. She has already brought my wife and I much closer than we were before. I think of the book Tuesdays with Morrie where he paraphrases Mark Twain's saying ""Dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt. Sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth." Mitch Albom scheduled weekly visits to meet with a dying old college professer to get this wisdom. Wisdom that every parent spends their lives trying to instill in their children. I don't dance, I'll admit life experiences have given me a tentative heart, I only sing if I've had a few beers, and I often find myself not living my life as I should. I know I'm stereo-typing here, but I will tell you -- if you really want to see the living, breathing version of that Mark Twain saying, go to a summer camp for teens with Down Syndrome on the Beach Party Karaoke Night Dance and you will see exactly what he means. I've known for three days that Gracie has Down Syndrome and she is already teaching me. Yes, our life has changed and will no doubt be different, but if this baby makes it (and that may still take a miracle), I'm pretty sure its going to be better than I anticipated.

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

by
Emily Perl Kingsley.

c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

 
 
 

Buck

 

I now know why you had to go.

Although it seemed that you had a lot more time left here with us.

There were other, more important, things for you to do that weren't clear to me when we recently said our "goodbyes".

You made sure we were ok and left me and the other dogs to take care of my wife and daughter.

Why did I have to lose my best friend, the one that would never hurt a soul, the one that would never let me down?

Its clear now, it was so you could get there a little early to prepare the place and be ready if what the doctors say is true

To watch over our unborn child until I see you both again someday.

 

Thanks Buddy, I owe you one

RIP Buck

I lost my best friend yesterday.
 
Every morning my wife gets out of bed before I do. For years, this gave my dog, Buck, the opportunity to sneak up and lay next to me for awhile. That did not happen today and will never happen again. Yesterday, I had to make the decision for Buck to never wake up from his exploratory surgery. We were hoping to find a toy or something to explain why his plumbing stopped working suddenly. His bowels were consumed with Cancer and up until a week ago, he had shown no signs at all. Buck had been my dog since November of 2000 and would have been 10 this year. I rescued him when he was 4 weeks old. He was a very handsome yellow lab/chesapeke mix with a large frame and broad chest - A beautiful dog. Without disrespecting anybody that I've lost in my life, losing Buck is the hardest loss that I've ever had to deal with. Its crazy - no funeral - no nothing -- I'm supposed to walk into the vet clinic with him and out with his collar and leash. I want to be left alone, but at the same time, out of respect for him, I want a big deal to be made of his death.  Some might say, he was just a dog, but right now especially, to me he was so much more.  I guess this is my way to passively deal with this. He helped me through some really tough times. For awhile it was just he and I. He was my family and he unconditionally loved me even in those times in my life where I didn't deserve it. He was my best friend. As I held him alone in the surgery room after the vet gave him that fatal syringe full of pink fluid, I cried and said to him that I hope I did him justice. I regret a few things. Buck was not the squeaky wheel. I have a wife and 17 month old daughter, a collie X with Cerebellar Hypoplasia (very high maintenance), a beagle X with an attitude - currently wearing an E-collar for a puncture she received in her inner leg, a rescued ex-bait dog pit bull with rotting teeth, and a 200 + lb mastiff. In our "pack", it was easy to not give as much attention to Buck because he was such a good dog. He let the other high maintenance crew, eat first, push their way in for affection, etc. - he never had accidents or destroyed anything, and would never hurt anything. I've seen puppies chew on his ears and Lylli poke him in the eyes while saying "Buck's Eyes". I don't know whether to keep typing and turn this into cliche like Marley and Me memoire or to stop - so I guess I'll stop. But I do want to say - I understand that I am writing this for myself in an attempt to deal with this loss, but if, by chance anybody does read this -- if you have a dog -- remember as you get consumed with the rest of your busy life -- that while you go to work and shuttle the kids around racing from here to there to meet all of your obligations, that to the dog that you are ignoring to do all of this --- you are its life! So, please remember that.
Goodbye Buck - I Miss you and will see you again someday

blue tooths and ipods make it hard to spot the Crazies

maybe it has to do with the MN winter and the fact that everybody has hats and head bands on that makes this so difficult, but while the streets fill up with people at the end of the day downtown It brings up some observations.  It occurred to me yesterday as I walked along side a guy towards my parking garage for a few blocks -- sure he had some chords dangling out from under his headband where his ears would be, but the whole time we walked, he was having a conversation and a quite animated one.  I never was able to tell if he had headphones in his ears and he was having a conversation with himself or were they from some sort of blue tooth device and he was actually a sane person merely multitasking.  I will never know and have found myself wondering the same thing about others... Don't even get me started about the number of times I've answered someone who was talking to someone on his/her blue tooth

As I sit here in this vacant office downtown the day after Thanksgiving, I can't help but think of the pride that Chimo must have when as when he sees his mom's Facebook status full of Sh** boms and love of Walmart or should I say "Wallyworld".  Happy Thanksgiving everyone