LynnMarie

James said the word “apple” the other day. This is a huge deal, considering that he still hasn’t said the words “no” (which I hear is big for three-year-olds), “Daddy” or “Mommy.” Nope. He chose to say the word “apple”. Believe me, it’s not that I haven’t tried to get him to say “Mommy.” Almost every morning when I go in to get him up I say, “James, can you say ‘Good morning, Mommy?’” and I even sign the word for “Mommy” as I say it. He will look up at me and giggle like he’s watching his favorite Little Einstein episode. “MOMMY”, I say again — a little slower and louder. More giggles. Today it dawned on me that this might be the reason he still has a hard time with his own name. Does he think he is Mommy? I don’t know. But if in fact somewhere in his little head he does understand, I’m at the point after four years that I’m about to say, “James, come on, really… would it kill you to say my name? Just once?”

Recently, another mother of a boy with Down syndrome turned me on to these great educational DVDs . Her name is Sharon, and I met her at a fundraiser for James’ school. Her son was sitting just a few tables away and I was drawn to him. I could hardly keep my eyes off of him. This is not normal for me. I usually run as far away from a teenager or adult with Down syndrome as I can – I guess in my attempt not to have to face what is ahead of me before I am actually ready. But with Ben – that was his name – it was different. He had such a sweet spirit, even from far away. We stayed until the end of the event at which time Ben started helping to stack the folding chairs and I saw her interacting with him and assumed she was his mom. I introduced myself, still staying clear of Ben, and commented on how sweet her son seemed. She was kind and gracious and extremely well put together. (I thought as I stood there, “I never look like that since I’ve had James. I always look like I just woke up and threw on the first clean thing I could find and there is always a stain on it that I didn’t notice until I got in the car.”) Anyway, as with most of my encounters when I’m talking about James, I ended up crying to this woman I didn’t even know. She offered a lunch date and I accepted.

We met on the South side of town and she showed up looking like she just walked out of the Coldwater Creek catalogue. I made sure there were at least no stains on my shirt. I cried a lot, and she listened and offered as much advice as she could. I confessed to her that I wasn’t a very good teacher/mother, and that sitting down to read with James has proven to be as hard a task for me as committing to work out. She said, “Hey listen, I understand. If it weren’t for the Love & Learning DVDs, Ben would have never learned to talk! Instead, he entered kindergarten saying the entire alphabet.” Within an hour I had purchased the whole set.

When the set arrived in the mail I could hardly get it out of the package fast enough. Included with the DVD is an audio CD and several paperback books with instructions that said, “This is your One Minute Reader.” Now, this amount of time I can commit to reading! One minute a day.  So, after going through the first book, which is the entire alphabet, each letter on a single page, we moved onto Book No. 2. This book is dedicated to letters A through F, and now each letter has a word: A – apple, B – bus, etc. And the other day, when I opened Book No. 2, he stared at those five little letters for a moment and then said, “apple”. Well, it sounded more like “aauu-pppa”, but I knew what he said!

To be honest, I know he doesn’t know what an apple is or what it tastes like, because he won’t try one. And sadly, he will never get to eat my mother’s apple pie, or pick a ripe green one from my grandfather’s tree and sit on the back porch with him and a salt shaker on a hot summer day.

When I was growing up, my grandparents lived in the house next door. Although my Grandmother JoHanna died the year I was born, I have fond memories of my Grandpa Michael who lived until I was six. Although I was slightly scared of his rough-and-tough exterior (a trait I’m sure he developed being an immigrant), he had a gentle spirit that could easily calm my fear. He would sit at our kitchen counter and in his native Slovenian tell me to put my hand down and we would play a game. I would put my hand on the counter and he’d pull his arm up with a fist made, and give me the chance to pull my hand away before he would slam his fist down so hard that the salt and pepper shakers would dance. When it was my turn, of course, he would let me hit his hand several times before egging me on to “really hit it hard.” With all my five-year-old might, I’d aim for his hand and, of course, he would pull it away just in time. He’d walk out the back door with a grin on his face and I’d run upstairs holding my hand, bruised and red, yet somehow my heart felt so loved. My grandpa wasn’t big on hugs and God forbid you ever said, “I love you,” around him, but somehow I knew, even at such a young age, that this was an outpouring of his affection; the only way he knew how to love a little girl.

The apple trees were in his yard. And come July, you’d see him out there, a little hunched over, walking underneath their branches with a glass saltshaker in his white front shirt pocket. (Which could be part of the reason why he was hunched over — it was the thickest and heaviest glass saltshaker I’d ever seen!) My brothers like to tell the story of him picking up a rotten apple from the grass, covered in bees, sprinkling it with salt, then biting and swallowing – bees and all. I don’t doubt this story, I’m just happy to have never witnessed it myself. Maybe that was the only way he knew how to love ten-year-old boys?

I would have loved for my grandpa to wrap his arms around me and say, “I love you,” on a daily basis, but he didn’t know how. What he did do, however, was find ways to show his affection – ways that cut through everyday life and created lasting memories; memories that I could hold on to forever. I pray that I can do this for James. Even though I’m well aware of my shortcomings in the “mommy” area, and I know that I don’t love him like I should every day (how many hours of TV are kids his age supposed to watch?), I pray that I can create hand-bruising, bee-eating moments he’ll remember and know that without a doubt I loved him more than words can say!

Thanks to Sharon and Ben, James and I now share a good five to ten minutes together every morning (we’ve graduated from the One Minute Reader!), and they are the best moments I have with him all day. I feel more connected with him then ever before, and I pray that these times will cut through. I often wonder how I would feel if I committed to the “one minute reader”version of my spiritual life, setting aside that time every morning to hear what God might want to say to me.

Last night, while surfing the Internet, I came across one of those web sites that offers to do your weight and fitness evaluation, and give you the perfect diet plan for your body type, all for free! In my desperation to lose the ten pounds from James that I’m still carrying around on my mid-section four years after his birth, I’m up for anything! So I spent the time inputting my cravings, my eating habits, my height, my weight (well… close) and then I got to the final page. I was about to hit “submit” when
I see in small print: “Before we give you all this amazing, valuable and life-changing information for free, please know this is a fourteen-day trial and after that it’s going to cost you $30 a month for our guidance. You can cancel at anytime, but you have to give us your credit card first or you get nothing!” Augh. Did I really just waste twenty minutes with the hope of someone telling me what I really already know? Eat less. Work out more. No big secret there. So I just left the site. Then I started getting all these pop-up windows saying, “Wait! You’re not done”, and “Wait! Did you think about how fat you might be if you don’t give us $30 a month?” Please! However, in one of the pop-up windows there appeared this body chart and I was able for the first time to look at different shapes and determine which one describes me. I didn’t know this, but there are four body types for women: hourglass, pear, banana (who knew?) and apple.

Apple. I am an apple! This basically means that I’m thick around the middle, tend to gain weight more in my stomach and chest area and have broad shoulders. Apple. Me. Mommy. Hey wait … James has said my name!