Square Peg ● Round Hole







Sometimes it is hard to believe that I am old enough to have two adult children. Sure, I wake up and feel like I am at least eighty, but I am rocking the fact that my face is showing minimal signs of aging. Bailey will be 25 this year and Bryce will turn 21. Holy shit, when did that happen? And while, their ages are seemingly indicative of being an adult, (and yes, Bailey tends to lean more to the childlike arena, but so does my spouse), there are conversations that we have that leave me shaking my head.

The other day, Bailey game home from work and shared that his stomach had been bothering him all day. Of course, my Mom radar goes off and I asked him if he needed to poop. Yes, while he is approaching the vast age of 25, he does need some reminders. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at me.

Bailey: No. I just ate light today.

Me: Oh, okay. So, what did you eat?

Bailey: Well, I had a hamburger and cheese fries.

Imagine me mentally slapping my hand to my forehead.

Me: That isn’t eating light. Cheese fries are in no way a light food plus that isn’t good for your stomach when it is upset.

In true Bailey fashion, he proceeds to ignore my comment and responds, “Anyway, I feel better.” Awesome. Sigh.

A few weeks ago, I shared that my family had asked me to stop talking about my boob after my biopsy. I had some Steri-strips (which are still lingering, by the way), and it was really sore. To annoy them I simply would continue to use the “B” word. Bailey can be a very sweet individual. (Most people are under the misguided notion that people with Down syndrome are always loving and kind. That is false. He can be a royal ass.) Anyway, each day he will ask about my ankle and my boob. However, he refuses to say the word “boob”. Instead, he simply makes a motion with his hand as if he were lifting his own up. It is hilarious.

Bryce doesn’t ask about my current issues. He is still processing that I had diagnosed myself and came home in a boot. He actually laughed at me. And, his discomfort when I kept repeating the “B” word was epic. However, I am currently on the receiving end of his chronic complaining over one of his professors, who insists that they take notes using a notebook. He is disgusted that he can’t use his laptop. Oh, the horror! I have a hard time feeling sorry for him. He also adds that the teacher is my age and doesn’t like technology. Not sure he is implying that I am super hip since I am might be a little jazzed with all the hi-tech gadgets I use, or if he is insulting my age group. Anyway, he might need counseling since he is being forced to use a notebook and a pen. Bless. His. Heart.

My children are interesting humans. I love how they are evolving. Finding their own way in the world. They are my greatest teachers and sometimes the best entertainment.