I've been on a blog hiatus lately but not because I don't have anything to blog about; it's quite the opposite actually.  There are so many things running through my mind, from all that happened over Christmas to the daily frustrations of raising kids, that I just become so overwhelmed with the thought of putting those things into words.  Christmas was great and I could feel my heart inflate with joy, but now for whatever reason that joy is starting to disappear.  I'm not sure if it has anything to do with the post-holiday blues or if life simply isn't meeting up to my expectations.  Which brings me to my next point.

Cale has started going to the 2's and 3's Sunday School class at our church, as I'm sure I've mentioned before.  I am helping lead a class for high school girls and so Alex goes to the class Cale's in.  I thought it would be fun to meet Alex and Cale today when Sunday School was over but when I walked into the room I didn't see a happy Cale or even a happy Alex.  I saw what was a very "defeated" Alex and a semi-frustrated Cale. I had walked in during coloring time and for those of you who don't already know, Cale cannot yet color.  He tries but he's more into the actual paper than putting anything on it.  It was hard to see him sit there, months - if not years - behind his peers.  He was so different and it's becoming easier and easier for me to say that he "is" different.  I'm not sure why but I feel like in me saying that that I have somehow given up on him.  I don't feel like I've given up on him but I feel guilty for admitting to myself, and now to all of you reading this, that he is indeed different.  As I'm typing this I hear the saying "not bad, just different" in the back of my head.  No, Cale is not bad nor do I love him one ounce less than if he were perfectly normal, but I do hate that he's different.  I hate that he's different not because I'm embarrassed of him (I am absolutely NOT embarrassed of him) but I don't want his quality of life to be compromised because of this.  I dread the day when someone makes fun of him or calls him names behind his back.  I dread the day when his sister asks us why he is the way he is, although I'm confident she's going to love him anyway.  I especially dread the day when Cale asks us why he is the way he is or why God allowed this to happen to him.  I don't have those answers and I fear as a parent I'm going to fail him in some way.  I feel silly admitting these things because I know in my head that it's pointless to worry.  Worrying cripples me and I hate that.

On a more positive note, Riley has been amazing Alex and me a lot lately.  She has started to roll all over the place and pushes her chest completely off the ground with straight arms.  I can tell she's trying to get her legs underneath her to rock back and forth but she's not quite there yet.  It has been so refreshing to watch her develop all on her own!  We haven't needed a therapist to come in and teach her how to do those things...she just does it.  Amazing...

Alex said something while we were in Billings over Christmas and it has been stuck in my head ever since.  Talking to Cale he said, "even though you're not running around and talking, I'm still proud that you're my son."  

I'm proud, too, Cale.  I'm so very proud.