I remember thinking, just after my parents got divorced, and for a long time after that, how all I wanted was to be "normal". You know, "normal"- a mom, a dad, family vacations, 1 maybe 2 christmas's, summers at home-one home. I thought about how when I grew up, that is what I wanted for my children: "normal". So I came home from college (first time) and started dating an accountant...now how much more normal can you get than that? We would go to Stanley Park, and among the lazy crowd watching the cricket match, he would play his guitar while I read Oprah's latest pick. We would go for sushi and long walks on the beach. I would meet him after a busy night at KPMG and we'd go for coffee. The only problem was, that in the midst of this romance (if you could even call it that at all-I was less than attracted to the actual guy) I realized that I didn't want to know what my life was going to look like for the next 40 years...So I went back to bible college and married a musician.
We were getting settled, paying back student loans, building EH-Quit-Tee, and decided to move back to Three Hills where we could be "normal" for a while. Our daughter comes along and we are complete- mom, dad, son, daughter, dog, Subaru wagon...perfect with one little chromosomal imperfection.
Normal. That word was not meant for me. But I am okay with that. I have always had a unspoken rule in my life that if the thought of doing something makes me uncomfortable, I do it, for the reason that gradually it will become comfortable. So that maybe eventually, no matter what lies before me, I will be comfortable enough in my own skin to embrace and conquer the challenge. For example, going to a class full of people I don't know, and learning something new. Befriending the friendless. Singing in public. Raising a child with Down Syndrome.