We wrapped up our FIFTH year at Camp No Limits Missouri. Five years of camps. This year’s group was bigger than ever and as usual, it was remarkable. I feel the need to list some of the reasons why camp was amazing.

1) Thanks to you, the Born Just Right community, we were able to raise $4,000 for camp scholarships. That’s amazing. And I’m ready to start fundraising for 2014.

2) Even when camp wasn’t going as planned, our kids were having an amazing time. The friendships that instantly happen between the limb different kids and the siblings are remarkable to watch. The Camp No Limits kids connect so quickly. There were kids I feel like I’ve known for a long time because I’ve been able to talk to their parents online. But to actually see Jordan connect with them in real life was remarkable. I’m not kidding.

3) Speaking of remarkable, Cameron grew up right in front of my eyes during camp. I allowed him to stay in the boy cabin and away from our family cabin of many little girls. He was a supportive sibling and really seemed to conduct himself as a dramatically more mature kid than in years past. I’m incredibly proud. It was like he’s finally at peace with some of the battles he’s had as a sibling of a limb different sister. What a awesome place to find your peace.

4) There is something amazing when you realize people you’ve talked to for years online are really just as awesome as you expected in person. There’s another level of amazing when you connect with parents of limb different children who you have never met before. And then there’s the incredible feeling when you get to reunite with families you’ve know for years at camp. I feel so blessed to be part of this experience for so many years.

Enjoy this little Story about camp and then enjoy the video slideshow I put together that helped end our big talent show night!

We have arrived for Camp No Limits Missouri 2013. Our memories of this year are just getting started… Like this tiny moment when Jordan grabbed onto her friend’s float with her little arm as they walked together. I’m in awe by the number of families we have met at camp this year who we know through the Born Just Right community. It’s SO exciting to meet them in person and have a chance to spend time together. I look forward to taking time telling the stories of this year’s camp soon.

In the meantime, I’d like to share an experience from this year’s Camp No Limits Arizona. Born Just Right mom, Rosey, wrote about her experience and wanted to reshare it with you. The biggest and littlest moments mean the most during Camp No Limits. It’s pretty special when you have the chance to sit back and watch it happen. This camp makes those moments possible and it’s why I’m committed to raising money so every family has a chance to attend if they want to.

I have a donation box to the right of this article or you can visit this link to our Firstgiving page. Your donations for 2013 helped raise enough to send eight people to camp. Let’s keep the funds coming in for next year’s camp!

As you consider donating, enjoy Rosey’s Camp No Limits experience:

Glassblowing is a sweaty, dirty art that takes many years of apprenticeship to become skilled at. The terminology sounds a bit rough, too. “Jack it down,” or “glory hole” are among the treasures you’d hear bandied about in a garage studio. Language is inadequate to describe the beautiful movements, and choreography that happens when dancing with liquid danger at a range from about 1600 to 2400 degrees Fahrenheit.

One wrong move by anyone, and disaster can strike. Aside from the whirs and hums of equipment generating enough heat to keep a pot of molten glass orange-yellow hot, the pssst of glass and iron tools quenching off their heat, the slam of a kiln door just before the heat penetrates the last layer in your elbow-length Kevlar gloves (OUCH!), a poorly timed attempt at something and the resulting smash, the smells of sweaty people and off gassing of supplies, a glass studio may be one of the quietest and most beautiful places you could ever hope to be.

Glass is mesmerizing in and of itself, though. It’s something we take for granted, that we don’t think of until we hear the sound of it breaking. Then, we are generally frozen for a moment, and then afraid or mad as hell when our instincts are triggered. A window, a windshield, a drinking glass, medical laboratory studies and experiments, glass is an integral part of our existence. It keeps us safe from high speeds, predators, weather. Lets us see how dinner is progressing in the oven. Yet no one knows how it came to be, or why.

Just as no one truly knows how Rumi’s little arm, or her “lucky fin,” came to be. There are medical guesses, and I’ve heard a few. Although the cause may not matter as what’s done is done, I’d still like to know. I navigate the world with information. It helps me frame questions, provides key search words, empowers me when I am belittled or otherwise disrespected even if just by circumstance.

It helps me kick ass. Overcome. Solve problems. Achieve.

I found other “lucky fin” moms who supported me during my pregnancy by telling me their birthing and childrearing experiences. I later found other expectant moms, in turn, while they were pregnant, and helped empower them. Would you believe that the mother of a lucky fin friend (who is just a few months old now, baby not mom) birthed the baby, and had the nurse tell her the doctor was out Googling the baby’s hand differences, because he’d never before seen it? Roll your eyes along with me, and rhetorically ask what century we live in, but realize that a congenital upper limb difference truly is just that rare.

I initially thought Rumi was too little to take to Camp No Limits just days after her second birthday. She wasn’t in need of learning occupational tasks such as tying her shoes or fastening buttons. I had no place to leave her sister, and it just seemed foolish to travel alone them for days. However, as the time came upon us, I changed my mind. I wasn’t sure how I’d manage the camp costs, as I’d just paid off the majority of a Gruesome Twosome breathing emergency. Complete with ambulance and everything. I just had to have faith, which is not something that someone so hungry for data, facts, and language with which to frame the world is on familiar terms with. I was shaky, and out of my element. Heck though, parenthood does that anyway!

We went, in the cold, sunny Arizona snow. Abnormal Arizona snow. In the deserts. I grew more excited as we approached Camp No Limits for its first Arizona session. I only knew the names of a couple of families who were going, and one little friend, James. I wanted to meet people. I needed to see children like Rumi after so much anecdotal information, and making major medical decisions from it. Mostly, I wanted the reassurance that the pediatric orthopedist we’d had the displeasure of obtaining consolation from was indeed the jackass I still think he is. Not for my ego, though. I’ll admit I like to be right. Anyone who knows me knows that. I need to be right, in some instances, in order to control my universe. In this case, I needed to know that Rumi had far more options than I’d been led to believe she had. Than I’d been able to find on my own keyboard and screen.

I needed to know that I had not done irreparable harm by basing my decisions on crap information by other equally controlling parents and physicians. So I approached Camp No Limits abuzz with excitement and nerves. Feeling I had little to offer in terms of experience, as my child was so young. Not knowing what I could expect, being new to the “lucky fin world.” Worried that I might take too much, without having anything to give back. I’m just like that. Afraid to say the awkward things, having experienced much of it online through research and chat forums. Questioning the wisdom of taking a two year old somewhere for four days, while hoping to balance her toddler needs with soaking up as much of our experience as possible. Wondering what the hell I’d been thinking when I changed my mind and decided to attend Camp No Limits. With a baby. In the snow. To a campground I had attended some 30 years before as a teenager.

We got to know other Arizona families. That Camp No Limits session was the first for most of us. The volunteers ranged from 14 year old Keegan to several young men who are Paralympians. One young woman, Clara, hadn’t been on her prosthetic legs for long. When the campers were busy, the young men helped her learn new skills, such as trekking over uneven terrain on her “legs.” One little girl, Fernanda, had lost her kidneys and her legs to a staph infection. Her parents were obviously stressed, and tired. Fernanda was demandingly dependent. Her Daddy’s donated kidney kept her alive, and free from dialysis. Over the four days of Camp No Limits, I enjoyed support groups, meals, and various activities with other campers. I watched as Fernanda gained some independence, and her parents blossomed with relaxation.  

The “information” some of us parents came with was indeed, as far from the practical truth as it could be: I was right! That jackass ortho who told me not to bother with prosthetics as most kids “fail,” and his advice to surgically remove Rumi’s “worthless” nubbins was more of the same, it turns out. Keegan’s mom, Missy, and the camp director, Mary, assured me: “We hear that from a LOT of parents. But any good prosthetist will work around them as much as possible.” 

I tried on a “dummy” body powered prosthetic hook (made for those of us with all limbs to see what it’s like). Then I picked up tidbits of paper from the floor! I shared my Mommy guilt with other Mommies. Some shared their husband’s Daddy guilt. We discussed how we are teaching our children to define themselves in terms of disability. Which public events we choose, or not, to participate in. I watched as amputees with various types of “helper hardware” demonstrated the ins and outs of operating them, of avoiding chafing injuries, the pros and cons of individual types.  

I listened to some hard truths of others’ lives, talking about how they acquired their amputations. My reality was rocked as I watched a quadruple amputee man named Mike told of his 3 month “nap” after acquiring a hospital infection. How he woke up without his arms and legs thanks to a staph infection, and had to discover ways to regain his independence.  His wife helps a lot by ordering him to cook dinner at least once per week. No infection can touch a sense of humor though! Mike proved that time and time again. Golly when another guy went down, crashing into chairs, we all froze, stunned. Mike just laughed, and made jokes about how we’d be seeing a whole LOT of that in the days to come!

I swallowed back the bile that arises from hearing just how cruel people can be to little kids. I shared my own story of the day my loud reply to some mean old bag’s unkind inquiry as to Rumi’s difference disrupted (stopped) a business. I noticed how none of the kids seemed to be body conscious of their differences, even if they had a bit of stranger shyness about them. Our friend Jimmy really seemed to take to me. Hugs and kisses, lots of flirty little winks, oh yes indeed! I gobbled them up while I could.

There was one family from England who were a bit odd in their relation to me. The mom approached me outside one morning, to chat. It turns out that her son, a little superstar of sorts, attracted a stalker. Who had looked just like me. “Only thin, without children,” she said. Which begs the question of their confusion to begin with, but apparently she committed some crimes during her stalking, including gaining nighttime entrance into the family’s hotel room. I truly felt badly for upsetting the little guy with my appearance. He dodged me as much as he could, and I respected him for it.

There are two specific experiences I wish to write about.

The last night of camp held the usual fun activities: skits, awards, and dancing. The lodge was a huge building set into a hillside. The outer stairs were thusly tall, with different sections. Rumi and I ran into two of our friends in the dining area as we made our way to the ground level. The girls were excited, all prettied up in their dresses, not wearing coats in their nod to fashion. The windchill was in the 20s. It had been a long day, and now the evening program was set to begin, so I tried to hurry the girls along to the stairs. Rumi growled that she wanted to be put down. After lots of whining to be carried, she wanted to go down all the stairs herself. During the daytime, she’d practiced climbing up a few stairs. 

For her birthday, the week before, we’d rented shared cabins up in the pines, and the girls had discovered the joys of climbing up and down short, carpeted steps. Now, though, it really was too cold and dark. Rumi insisted this was the time she’d conquer the stairs, so down she went, to try it on her own. With her short little legs, and her two assistants, there was quite a crowd of girls waiting for Rumi to step down, across, then down, across, etc each stairstep. She refused to crawl down them like Halo did. Standing up, on her feet, like a big girl, those stairs were hers to leave in the dust.

While it was adorable, I really just wanted to get it over with so the girls wouldn’t get too cold. Then, a dad came through the dining room door to find us out there in the first third of the whole project. He is a big, tall, firefighter of a man. He is direct, and pretty funny too. His wife and kids were downstairs waiting for him, as evidenced by the two steaming Styrofoam cups of coffee in his hands. Out of respect for a chair and a warm beverage, I tried to get the girls to move out of his way.

“Eh, no worries,” he said. He smiled, and just watched this whole procession. He was higher up the stairs than I was, so he appeared even taller. Sipping his coffee, he relaxed as we worked our way slowly down the stairs. Step down, cross, step down. As those drinks got cold, as his family waited on him. As the tweenaged girls doted on, and supported Rumi’s effort to master a skill. In those perfect few minutes, I saw a magnificent world of possibility. And now, I must swallow the lump in my throat, and wipe the tears from my eyes as I confess to have reached the limitations of what language can do for me here as far as conveying anything further about that moment. 

Earlier that day, we’d had rock wall climbing and ziplining activities. Rumi and I awoke in the middle of the night slightly under the weather, so we took a nap while the others enjoyed lunch. We caught up with the group, well into their activities. I was interested in ziplining, as I’d never done it. I did it, and although I scrambled my big butt up the pole, looking down was a different story. A 30 foot jump seems so short of a distance, until it’s your own self looking down at the ground.

Mike attempted to go up that pole, but he had technical difficulties (“My leg’s coming off!”). He returned to terra firma, and he must have been devising a plan. That man refused to give up! He found some limits, but a short while later, with the help of two of the dads, and the safety belayer, he squashed those limits. They began to work together as if by magic, or some choreographed thing they all knew the parts to. Perhaps a flash mob. Up he went! Back and forth across the ground went the men, following the rope, hoisting Mike when he asked, releasing him down a bit when he needed to find his “footing.”  Mike would hook himself to the pole, standing upon a heavy, wire step, shouting orders below. The only thing I could do was kneel on the ground, trying to hold my Flip camera as steady as possible in the heavy wind, and capture that moment forever. Somehow, I’d been stunned into a rare silence as I watched that man climp up a pole, and jump!  

Since when do men who wear prosthetic legs jump off poles? Since when is Caryn Walsh silent? Since we have such a wonderful resource in Camp No Limits. Listen, if you know me, you know I have (fill in your own adjectives here) stories. Stories are what I do, what I give, what I collect. My stories are the kind that aren’t made up, however. So let me add here about another guy we met. Josh was born differently, as well. He happens to be a congenital quadruple amputee, but that’s not the interesting thing about him. The interesting thing about him is that as an independent, driven adult, he holds the Paralympian world record in long jump. I’ve been working on writing this piece for some time, during which he’s broken his own records at least twice. The other interesting thing about him is that he attends Camp No Limits sessions to school parents in raising kids like ours, and inspire the kids we raise.

All right, I’d best focus in here. The other thing I wanted to tell you about is Fernanda. Out there on the basketball courts, as we cheered on the ones who climbed and the others who jumped, other things were happening too. Fernanda came to Camp No Limits refusing to wear her “stubbies.” Stubbies are more of that “helper hardware.” They attach to residual legs (I hate the term “stump”), with a hard rubber pad on the bottom. They’re used for getting around in casual settings. Stubbies don’t add any height, they just serve as a sort of shoe. You still have to have skills to use them, though.

As I sat out there with Rumi and her bunny blanket, I noticed that Fernanda’s parents were by the rock wall watching the climbing. Fernanda was being tended to by Clara. Clara, with her bright smile, was patiently leading her little camper back and forth along the basketball court, both wearing stubbies. What was that? Holding hands, they’d move together until Fernanda would fall down. Clara would just tell her to get back up, and wait until she did. There was no scene, no cheering, no tough love, it was just happening. Now and again, Fernanda’s well rested, relaxed, carefree (compared to how they looked when they arrived, at least) parents would occasionally look over to see where she was. Nothing more. That in and of itself was a triumph. Keegan came to assist, Liam and David and Rumi too. Fernanda fell off the edge, unable to make that short step down. No limits, off they all went again when she was ready. No hurry, but no giving up, either.

I watched this, knowing I was watching a miracle. Perhaps not a newsworthy miracle of any variety, but a miracle nonetheless. Fernanda’s miracle was independence. Healing from the unimaginable hell of drug resistant infection. Paz y luz (peace and light) returning to her family, perhaps for just a brief respite. I watched the chilly wind blow her long, brown hair as she focused her young face toward the ground, learning to coordinate her stubbies with her thoughts to go places. Places without limits, however far away they might be, however difficult they may be to achieve. I was, once again, mostly speechless as I observed this activity. I had nothing to offer, yet everything to gain.

I noticed another thing that afternoon. I saw Fernanda’s detested walker, and Clara’s prosthetic legs abandoned. They sat along the sidelines together, ignored. Once again, I am short on words as emotion overtakes me. Shooting the image of that helper hardware was a great moment for me. It’s my favorite Camp No Limits photograph. It’s not perfectly framed or focused. It’s merely symbolic of the perfection of children, and adults and therapists and parents with every level of physicality you can imagine helping each other trod all over limits of any and every variety. Helping each other determine what “no limits” means to them, without judgment or even a timetable. Or even gravity!

So, what’s with the glass talk? Once upon a time, I found beads, then glass beadmaking. I didn’t know how to become an artist, but I worked at it. It was so hard to try to become self-taught, but I didn’t think I was smart enough to attend expensive classes until I had a basic foundation. Once I traveled abroad and got real help, handling melted glass was second nature to my munitions factory trained hands. My jewelry started getting pretty good, and I became a teacher. I walked into a glass blowing studio and within hours, other people thought I’d been there for years. They said, “We trust you with our legs!” Not just anyone can show up and swing molten glass on the end of a 6 foot rod with great results.

The stories were what always made my work better than it technically ever was. Then I had a long period of challenges that got the best of me, and I gave up. My creativity was turned elsewhere, but I had no enthusiasm for anything with danger, or holes in it. My glass torch recently found itself burning again after many years. I didn’t have much to offer at camp, but I was able to make beads, then jewelry, to donate for fundraising. I didn’t raise much money, but there were some happy children who gave their happier moms treasured mementos.

Inspired by camp, redefining my limitations has been my recent goal. Trying to work with that I have, in terms of focus, time, skills, weather, I’ve been able to enjoy the solitude of late night glass melting again! Finding my creativity and exercising it has also been strongly encouraged by the rest of my family. They didn’t understand my enthusiasm for glass, and travel, and whatever mischief, or country, I meandered into. They sure missed it once it was gone, though. With hundreds of pounds of glass rods, and two little fashion curious daughters it all becomes very clear. I’ve been making the beads, some jewelry, and an artist’s webpage. Challenging my limits once again, with older eyes and fingers. I have faith that whether I am creating a vast inheritance, or I can sell enough to get us there, we’re going back to Camp No Limits in three weeks. This time it’s in California, where we’ll see old friends, meet new ones, and spend a few days watching miracles unfold.

Click here if you’d like to contribute to Rumi’s fundraiser to attend the California camp.

Finally, after a very long wait… I’m happy to announce you can snag your very own Born Just Right gear. So many readers have reached out and asked for shirts! It had to happen. So with the help of a national website, I finally built it.

For the first time, I had 14 shirts made over the weekend to take to Camp No Limits Missouri this week and I’ll make sure I have shirts available during our meetup in July. But the rest of the time, we have Born Just Right’s new CafePress store. I’m excited to offer two different shirt logos thanks to my friend, Sarah Clark. She was the creator of the very first Born Just Right shirt (you can see the picture of Jordan proudly posing with it when she opened it as a gift) and she designed all of the logos I asked readers to pick from last Fall.

Let me know what you think. As the kids get older and I have a little more time on my hands, I’ll probably move away from CafePress and into bulk production where I can send items off on my own. In the meantime, the sale of the shirts will help pay for the upkeep of Born Just Right along with my long-term goal of being able to really turn this site into a non-profit.

I’m excited to start sharing Born Just Right this way… And let’s see how this goes. Let me know what you think. This is only the beginning for helping spread our positive message a little wider! You can visit the site by going to http://cafepress.com/bornjustright or you’ll see a link to the store on the right side of the website.

If you purchase a t-shirt, I’d love to see pictures of you or your kids wearing it!

I’m wrapping up my final day out of town before I jump into some really exciting family adventures. Next week, Jordan, Cameron and I are attending Camp No Limits Missouri. With your support we raised almost $4,000 for the camp. It’s pretty awesome. I promise to tell the stories of camp while it’s underway here and on our Facebook page. I cannot tell you how excited I am to meet some parents and kids I have known for years but have never met in person until this year’s camp.

After camp, I’m looking ahead to our next chance to meet up with limb difference families. I haven’t even set up plans for it yet, but I think it could be epic. Jordan and I are traveling to Chicago to build her next helper arm. We document the building process each time and at the last minute, I realize I should find opportunities to meet up with families. Well, I’m thinking ahead this time. Here’s what I have in my mind… And I’d love to hear what you think:

Jordan and I LOVE to explore Chicago. Earlier this year, we had an epic trip with Cameron. We love the city and all of the fun activities. So let’s try this:
If you’re interested in traveling to downtown Chicago for the day on July 20th, where do you think would be a fun spot for a meeting? We’ve held one at the Children’s Museum of Chicago but there are other options. There’s the Field Museum, Museum of Science and Industry, Shedd Aquarium, Sears Tower, Hancock Tower… I want to hear from you.

Let’s pick a place to meet and then somewhere to eat a late lunch. Let’s have the most fun we can have with all kinds of awesome limb different kids and adults.

So mark it down on your calendar: July 20th.

Help me pick a spot to meet.

Let’s do this!!

It’s officially summer break for us and I’m hoping we can find ways to the kids to keep learning even if they aren’t in a classroom. Jordan has grown into a great reader in the last year but for some reason, it hasn’t translated into her becoming an excellent speller. For some reason, when she spells phonetically, she doesn’t spell things well. To work on that skill, I’ve found a few ways to get her excited about writing:

1) A diary with a lock so she can feel complete ownership of her words. This will be an spell-check free space.

2) A daily Q&A book I discovered on Amazon. It’s a simple idea: Answer one interesting question a day for THREE YEARS. No really, it’s true. I can’t wait to see how long Jordan participates in the book. Cameron liked it so much, I ordered one for him as well.

3) Keep writing to her penpal. Jordan has a friend in Chicago who they’ve had a chance to back and forth with drawings and short letters. They didn’t do much letter writing during the school year, so I’m looking forward to most letters again this summer. They’ve already exchanged letters in the last week. I tried helping set up penpal friendships last year and I think a few of those letter exchanges are underway.

I’d love to hear other ideas on ways that are fun, but keep the brain going in low-tech ways.

The Internet is a strange place. You can throw all kinds of ideas out there and you never know what might stick. In the last week, I had an opportunity to pitch the idea of putting a kid with a limb difference into the front cover of a national parenting magazine. It all started a few weeks ago when I noticed Parents Magazine was asking parents to share photos of their children for a cover magazine contest. I chose one of my recent pictures of Jordan in her dance recital outfit and didn’t think much about it.

That was until a week ago when Parents Magazine notified me that Jordan’s photo was chosen to be part of a voting contest where the winner can be put into the running to be in a magazine cover. Imagine that… A limb different kid on the front page of a national magazine. It sounds amazing.

I told Jordan about the opportunity and she thought it sounded super cool. So, I created an easy to remember link and shared it with the photo on Facebook:

Crazy idea, right? Well maybe it is. But, even if we don’t move into the next round, this big push has been really incredible to watch. More than 40,000 people have seen this photo on Facebook. Thanks to everyone who have helped in this effort. It’s been fun and I’ve loved having a chance to meet even more people who care about limb differences through this effort.

No one tells you that as your kids get bigger, life doesn’t get more simple. It gets much more complicated. Each year, my kids get more active and delve into more activities and adventures. I celebrate and support the piano, guitar, robotics, dance, softball, soccer, swimming, track and whatever else tends to come up in the year. But each year, it seems to get a little more complicated.

Fast forward to the end of this school year. The same day Jordan performed in her yearly dance recital, her brother, Cameron, graduated from elementary school. Two big events on one day. This was the last time the kids will attend the same school at the same time. Middle school is three years, high school is four years. With the kids four years apart, I only enjoyed two years where they attended elementary school together. It was so simple.

Take a look at the recital rehearsal. Jordan actually had zero messups in the actual show… I guess that’s why we rehearse. Unfortunately, you have to pay a pretty hefty sum to get video that shows a wide shot of the official performance. So, check out the dance and pretend it was flawless.

See? It feels like we’re leaving a simple time and moving to even more juggling. At some point, we’ll have to pick and choose and drop some activities.

So I look forward to enjoying a summer where we have big travel, a new helper arm in Chicago and new experiences for Cameron. (He’s going to attend his first sleep-away camp on his own. And it’s all about aerospace!) We’re keeping it simple in advance of Camp No Limits Missouri (June 11-14). For now, the kids are taking swimming lessons, playing at the pool and having fun adventures with babysitters while I’m out of town.

Kathryn returns with another post on her view as an adult with a limb difference. You can see previous posts here and here.

I knew months ago that I wanted to write about the “little things” that get to me but also make me proud to be an adult with a limb difference.  I smiled when I saw Jen had written a post with the same title a couple of years ago.  I imagine many people think that having a limb difference is a HUGE thing because they cannot imagine their own lives without an arm or leg, but for me, it is no big deal.  Instead, it’s the little things that remind me I am unique.

There are inevitably things that bother me about having a limb difference.  One of them is shaking hands.  Since I was born without my right arm in a (very) right-handed world, I cannot shake someone’s hand the “correct” way.  As a lawyer, I am frequently in situations where hand shaking is important.  Add a beverage or plate of food at a social function and you have a recipe for a potentially awkward moment.  Why can’t we address people like the French do?  A nice peck on each cheek.  Hands free salutations!  Since we are not in France, I do the best I can and hope people don’t think twice about the fact that I just shook their right hand with my left.  Or, depending on the situation, I just tell the person up front that I have a prosthetic.

Another little thing I wish I could do is pick up my son, toss him in the air, and catch him with two hands.  I know it doesn’t make me less of a mom in any way that I can’t, but when my husband does it, my son gets a look of sheer glee on his face while he giggles.  Fortunately, there are dozens of other things I CAN do that also cause my son to giggle, and I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.  I also wish I could hold him while I cook, because he loves to see what I am doing.  He loves to watch the bubbles when the water boils, gets curious about what I am slicing or mixing, and generally just wants to see everything.  I will often pick him up so he can see what’s happening, but have to put him back down again to stir, chop, etc.

On the flip side, one of the little things that makes me proud of my limb difference is that I type really fast with one hand.  Really wicked fast (ask anyone who has ever worked with me).  I think it is one of my very few natural talents and I am grateful to God for such a blessing.  I say it’s a “natural” talent because when I took a typing class in elementary school, I learned to manipulate the keys “my way” with relative ease.  I spend a solid 85 percent of my time typing for work, so it is a very handy gift (pun intended).  Thank goodness for fast-typing fingers!

Another little thing is my ability to crack an egg with one hand (without getting shells in the bowl!).  I love to bake when I can find the time, and baking requires many eggs.  I frankly don’t know why anyone would need two hands to break an egg, but I’m glad I can do it.

I’m curious to know what other people consider to be the “little things” about living with a limb difference?

This morning, one of my former students shared a link to a story his newsroom produced about an eight-year-old named Bailee Iorg. She was born with a limb difference that led to an amputation of her foot when she was four months old. She started gymnastics a year ago and now she’d like to start competing. That’s a big deal for any eight-year-old. But since she has a prosthetic leg, she is unsure if she’ll be allowed to compete. Her gym is waiting for USA Gymnastics to decide if she’s going to participate because for now, there are no rules for or against prosthetics.

Obviously Bailee knew pretty early on that she was born just right because she’s a firecracker. Seriously, watch this video.

I don’t live in Tennessee but I already see Bailee’s quest is catching attention. We can all rally together and help her out. A parent whose daughter is a gymnast who competes within the USAIGC program with a prosthetic is allowed to participate. For now, we have to wait and see if the USA Gymnastics program will do the same. So I created a petition on Change.org and would love your participation in spreading the word and encouraging your friends to sign it.

Jordan is fast. She has a sprint like no other little kid I know. While I like to run at a slow and steady pace, Jordan has power. She shows it off during each of her softball games. Somehow, I caught her flying during her game over the weekend.

Softball is a challenging sport for Jordan when it comes to hitting the ball. She’s worked really hard to start hitting backhanded. When she makes the connection, it’s a solid hit. I’m really impressed that even after some challenges, she keeps trying.

What is another great thing about this year of softball? Her team. She has a wonderful collection of young girls on her team. They are all awesome and I’m so glad she gets to spend so much time with them on the field and in the dugout. They have adorable chants and cheers and all around awesome spirit.

So as Jordan continues to hone her skill as a catcher, thrower and batter, she’s also learning to be an even better friend. There are some really strong personalities on the team and they seem to all be learning and communicating. That can be tricky when you’re in elementary school! I’m excited for Jordan to continue to play and I’m really happy she’s feeling fast and strong on the field.