Talk About It

The other day I was on Facebook and a link popped up in my feed to actor Chris Pine talking about epilepsy. This? I am very interested in seeing. I mean, I'd probably watch him talk about anything. (My hubby counted on that to get me to the theater for Star Trek Into Darkness, which I'll be blogging about Friday.)

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*sigh* I'm sorry, what was I writing about?

Oh, yeah. Epilepsy. A topic which has become very important to me. So I clicked to watch Chris talk about it. And the link took me to a website for an organization called - Talk About It:

Actor Greg Grunberg (The Client List, Heroes, Lost, Alias) has a son with epilepsy. He has become an activist for patients and families impacted by the condition, founding the non-profit organization Talk About It. The goal is to build awareness, promote education and end the stigma attached to epilepsy.

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Greg has gathered an impressive list of celebrities to help spread the word about his mission. Lots of big names. And that does make a difference. It gives the movement exposure. Critical momentum. But, as Greg himself says on the organization's website, more of us need to join the conversation.

Those of us who live each day with the realities of epilepsy need to stand up and talk about it. If that is you, please visit the site and look around. Follow Talk About It on Twitter. Tweet to Greg and let him know you will be part of the conversation. Join the member forum.

Even if epilepsy does not affect you or a family member, it's likely it does a friend, colleague, someone you know. Three million Americans have the condition. Spend time on the site; there is a lot of great information there. The more you know, the better you can support and help them.

I did not know a thing about epilepsy before my daughter had her first seizure. I had to educate myself very quickly. Especially about first aid, the topic Chris Pine and his Star Trek cohort Zachary Quinto cover on the Talk About It site. Knowing what to do, and what to expect when someone has a seizure can take away a lot of the fear.

I've been talking about my daughter's epilepsy since she had her first seizure at the age of three. Both here on my personal blog and through my role as a contributor to Moonfrye.com. It's helpful for me to be able to share what we are going through, receive support and connect with others who understand.

Thank you, Greg Grunberg, for raising the conversation to a higher level. Thank you for your advocacy. Thank you for working to ensure those of us affected by this condition don't have to feel scared and alone.

Because that is not how it should be, for my daughter or anyone:

Tiny dancer

Last fall, when SB told me she wanted to take dance, I took to Facebook and asked local friends for recommendations. More than seven friends named the same studio. Some had danced there growing up, others had children currently dancing there, and one friend dances there herself.

I went to check it out and liked it. Took SB and she got to observe a class. She could not wait to get started. So three generations of Flora girls (my mom, me and SB) went shopping for shoes and leotards and tights. She got a dance bag. And could not wait to get started.

The location was very convenient. It was just down the street from where SB has speech therapy, and the class she would attend began 30 minutes after speech. It was perfect in so many ways.

One of the things I love about the dance school is its philosophy. The goal is to help young girls enjoy dance. There is no competition. Or pressure. It is a Christian school, so the overall mission is to praise God through dance.

The head of the school stood up to speak to all of the first time moms (me included) the week before the big event. She explained we would never see any of her staff getting on the girls for missing a step or forgetting her spot. And she encouraged us all to follow that example. It was, she reminded us, supposed to be fun.

Personally, I love that attitude.

I took dance when I was SB's age, and I hated it. I remember well. My mom does, too. She says the head of my dance school was very "militant." She does not believe he made it fun. As a result, I was not in dance for long.

This past weekend, the culmination of months of work for SB and her dance class came together for the annual Showcase. Made up of three and four year-old girls, it was guaranteed to be a cuteness overload. And it did not disappoint.

SB was full of nervous energy as we met up with the other girls in the get ready room. She did not want her hair in a bun, but that was a requirement. I can't do hair to save my life. Fortunately, there were women there to help. Best $5 I've ever spent.

Then there was picture taking, and more nervous energy. I presented SB with a trophy we had purchased through the school. Then I left her with her class to go find my family in the auditorium. Hubby and my mom had gotten us front row seats!


It was a joyful occasion. And it made quite an impression on SB.

For the past month or so, she has been begging to quit dance so she could take gymnastics. I told her she had to stick with it until Showcase, because she had made a commitment and her class was counting on her. I promised I would then find her a gymnastics class (I have a one extracurricular activity at a time rule).

That night during her bath, she told me she wants to continue with dance so she can be in Showcase next year.  The biggest draw? She gets to have a french braid instead of a bun. Also, two of her classmates from preschool and her BFF who lives on our street will also be attending class. So she is super excited to continue on with dance.

I would have followed through on my promise, but am in no way disappointed. I can't wait for another year of cuteness!

Strange, and yet familiar

My child has not napped in over two years. I can't remember the last time she fell asleep in the car. This week it happened not once, not twice, but three times.

The first time was at night. Our plans for an early dinner out with my mother-in-law were thwarted by slow service at the restaurant. We got home well after SB's bedtime, and she did crash in the car. A rare event.

A few days later, as we returned home from a visit with my dad, I turned around to find this:

I was shocked. I'm not exactly sure when she fell asleep, but I certainly didn't want to rouse her. It was a cool afternoon, so I opened all the car doors and hung out in the driveway until she woke.

A few days later, after a play date at the pool, I was not quite as surprised when this happened:

It was a warmer day so I kept the car running with the air on, and the garage door open. She slept for at least 30 minutes after we arrived home. The surprise was what came next.

When she woke she was super drowsy, so I got in the glider in our bedroom and began to rock. She went right back to sleep. In my arms. It was so strange, and yet so familiar.  I rested my chin on the top of her head, breathing her in as we rocked back and forth together. It was so peaceful, and brought back so many memories.

She barely fit in my lap. Her legs hung over the arm rest of the chair. She is no longer a baby; at four she comes almost to my chest. But our bodies remembered how to fit together. It was one of those beautiful moments that makes all the struggles of motherhood worthwhile.