Mothers Lie~
Every mother wants so much more. She wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin. She wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly.
She wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps right on schedule (according to the baby development chart on page 57, column two). Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons by the billions. She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do the toe points that are the envy of the entire ballet class. Call it greed if you want, but a mother wants what a mother wants.
Some mothers get babies with something more.
Maybe you’re one who got a baby with a condition you couldn’t pronounce, a spine that didn’t fuse, a missing chromosome or a palate that didn’t close. The doctor’s words took your breath away. It was just like the time at recess in the fourth grade when you didn’t see the kick ball coming, and it knocked the wind right out of you.
Some of you left the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, took him in for a routine visit, or scheduled him for a checkup, and crashed head first into a brick wall as you bore the brunt of devastating news. It didn’t seem possible. That didn’t run in your family. Could this really be happening in your lifetime?
There’s no such thing as a perfect body. Everybody will hear something at some time or another. Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, therapy or surgery. Mothers of children with disabilities live the limitations with them.
Frankly, I don’t know how you do it. Sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that kid in and out of the wheelchair twenty times a day. How you monitor tests, track medications, and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear.
I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, the well-intentioned souls explaining how God is at work when you’ve occasionally questioned if God is on strike.
I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy columns like this one-saluting you, painting you as hero and saint, when you know you’re ordinary. You snap, you bark, you bite. You didn’t volunteer for this, you didn’t jump up and down in the motherhood line yelling, “Choose me, God. Choose me! I’ve got what it takes.”
You’re a woman who doesn’t have time to step back and put things in perspective, so let me do it for you. From where I sit, you’re way ahead of the pack. You’ve developed the strength of the draft horse while holding onto the delicacy of a daffodil. You have a heart that melts like the chocolate in a glove box in July, counter-balanced against stubbornness of an Ozark mule.
You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability. You’re a neighbor, a friend, a woman I pass at church and my sister-in-law. You’re a wonder.
~~Lori Borgman
Friday, May 16, 2008
Look What I Made!
This morning Andrea and I made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. They were so soft and Yummy! We thought that we would share the recipe with all of you. We can't wait for Bubby to come home from school and try them.
Ingredients:
1 1/4 cups unsifted flour 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon 1 cup butter, softened 3/4 cup brown sugar, firmly packed 3/4 cup granulated sugar 2 egg 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 3 cups Old-Fashioned Quaker oats 1 (11 ounce) package Nestle Toll House butterscotch-flavored morsels (about 2 cups) I also had a half bag of chocolate chips left over from when I made chocolate dipped strawberries.
Directions
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Combine flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon in a small bowl; set aside.
Beat butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar, eggs, and vanilla extract in a large bowl.
Gradually beat in flour mixture.
Stir in oats and morsels.
Drop by rounded Tablespoonfuls onto an ungreased baking sheet.
Bake 7 to 8 minutes for chewy cookies, 9 to 10 minutes for crisp cookies.
Cool on baking sheets for 2 minutes, remove to wire racks to cool completely.
Pan Cookie Variation: Grease 15x10-inch jelly-roll pan.
Prepare dough as above.
Spread in prepared pan.
Bake for 18 to 22 minutes or until lightly browned.
Cool completely in pan on wire rack.
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