No more need for a children's menu? I am here.

We were waiting to be seated in the iconic Tex-Mex restaurant. After waking before 4am, traveling across country, and making a couple of apartment-supply runs, Mason and I were each in our own exhausted day-dreams -- mine completely centered on the soon to be ingested chips and queso. But it had not gone completely unnoticed by me that there were many families in the lobby who were obviously dropping their own students at Texas Tech (the cameras, the selfies, the staring lovingly at the young adult....I recognized the signs!). When the hostess motioned it was time to be seated for one such family, I heard her ask the mom if their were any children in the party. And there it was. Mom glanced lovingly at her taller-than-her-son and took a deep sigh before saying, "No. No children."

I wanted to hug her.

And assure her that queso does in fact make it feel better....but perhaps I could offer a little more advice than that.

As mothers, we all handle the college-going of our children differently. Freshman year and dorm decorating can uncover a range of emotions, my friends and I pretty much covered the gamut:

1. I'm proud. I'm proud. I'm just so proud.  This mom really just loves celebrating every single achievement for darling college kid. Perhaps the sadness for her is overwhelmed by her pride....or maybe she finds it easier to cover her sadness when she is fully immersed in college pride! Regardless, she will be at every event on the campus and will be thrilled to be there!

2. Party. Party. Party. This mom is relishing her nest being empty. She is a good mom but she has an enviable contentment hanging with her own peeps, and finding fulfillment beyond her motherhood.

3. Eeyore and Pooh Bear too. Woe is me, my purpose is gone. I just want to sit and eat honey -- or queso in my case -- all day. There is no denying that after homeschooling the triplets for six years, spending every moment of those years engaging them in learning, I struggled with the freshman year. I felt bereft, if you don't mind my drama. I felt that I was void of purpose. And I had a physical ache that all things had changed.

Please hear me, I think most of us can be a little of all three, even if overwhelmingly leaning toward one. I was crazy proud of my crew and I love opening our home to other adults to gather with me -- from Bible studies to book clubs and everything in the middle -- but I was full-on Eeyore when my crew left for college. Freshman year found me stalking the social media accounts of each of their schools for a glimpse, a tiny glimpse of their faces. I wasn't completely sure how often I should text them. I didn't want to call them too often. I wanted to be laid back in the communication....but oh boy I wanted to know how and where and when and what. I needed all the info and felt so absolutely disconnected because I was not a part of the process.

Listen, as mothers, we have to support each other -- no matter what our attitude towards their college-going. 

Last week, Mason and I flew across country to move him into his graduate school apartment. We are in the throes of Claire's application process for Occupational therapy school and Benjamin is exploring all his options for his next endeavors.

Photo cred: Sarah Dunlap photography

And while I am sad that we won't all be here together every day, it doesn't feel as take-my-breath-away as the trio leaving for college did. This feels different.

Four years after freshman year drop-off, I have learned a few things:

1. They still seek me out for advice and to share their news. Somehow, I think we worry as moms -- or I worried -- that they wouldn't do that once they found their people. It is a comfort to know they do.

2. They can handle themselves. I think regardless of how amazing our children are, there is a fear when we leave them in their college dorm, that we forgot some big crucial life-skill that they will need and not know. That wasn't the case for my kids -- and I am fairly certain it won't be for yours as well. (Unless you consider sock-picking-up a major life skill, because I fear one or more of my children might not possess that one....)

3. When we let them fly, they soar. This is so hard. So hard. I had days where I wanted to clip their wings and bring them back to the nest. But my crew have found purpose, adventure, and relationships near and far as they follow their dreams. It is good.

Parenting adults is very different than when I had three little bitties following my every step, my every move. I am not the center of their world anymore and that can be a blow to a mommy-heart. But they are still some of my very favorite people. I love hearing them talk about their passions, their work, their dreams. I love meeting their friends and seeing the relationships blossom. And I love knowing that they will come home....and I will be here, whenever they need me!

I'm learning.

Not a burden. Never a burden.

I sat across the desk from the headmaster with my three almost-five-year olds beside me. We were visiting the Christian school in our town with the highest academic acclaim and frankly, where most of my friends sent their children. I was anxious to hear if he felt the school could accommodate my children.

"Mrs. Shrader, this is what we can do," he began. "We'll enroll your children on a three-month probationary period. If in three months it proves too hard on my teachers, we will have to ask you to find somewhere else for them to attend school."

I was not quite five years in to this Mama Bear role. My voice was perhaps softer than it would become over time. Perhaps. But I vividly remember clearing my throat and looking him dead in the eyes as I said, "Really? And you think starting kindergarten -- the beginning of their formal education -- on PROBATION is the best way to set them up for success? I can not even imagine the stress that would place on them and on us as a family. No thank you."

We left there bothered but not heart-broken. I had heard of a choice school in town that also had high academic acclaim. I made an appointment with the principal there.

I sat in her office and talked about my amazing children. For her part, she explained that school admittance was on a blind-lottery basis. But if one of their names was drawn, all three would be accepted. I liked those odds. But then she expressed concern about how hard her teachers would have to work to accommodate my boys. All these years later, I remember the feeling that my words were trapped in my throat behind all the emotions. She then told me how the school prided themselves on their racial diversity. I asked her how she ensured that if they had a blind lottery? She assured me she had ways of marking the applications.

And so I walked out knowing that even though the odds were in our favor -- we had THREE entries in the lottery after all -- my children would NOT be selected in her not-so-blind lottery. I was right.

And so I loaded the trio and we went to our local public school for a visit.  The sweet principal met them with a smile. She gave a delightful tour. She encouraged our hearts. And though kindergarten and first grade would not be without their challenges, we never felt we were burdening the teachers in any way.

At the Churchill Elementary School accessible playground -- a playground we worked to build so first grade could be as inclusive as possible.

Of course our education saga did not end in first grade. But as those three little former preschoolers walked across the stages of their respective college stages this past week, conversations about kindergarten were the ones rattling around in my head. It makes sense really that my mind celebrating the end of their formal education (Ok, not really, all three are looking at grad/professional schools), would go back to the beginning to the scary, unsure-of-tomorrow beginning where educators had so much power over how we faced their education.

I would like to call both the headmaster of the private school and the principal of the choice school today. I would like them to know that those little preschoolers whom they so worried would place an undue burden on their teachers graduated with honors this week. Lots and lots of honors. 

I would like to tell them that when Benjamin rolled across the stage with his diploma the faculty were the first to stand in what turned in to a standing ovation throughout the graduation hall. Those faculty did not stand because Benjamin had been a burden on their teaching. They stood because he worked hard in their classes, he engaged on a day to day basis, he encouraged his fellow students and set the bar high for their performance. I would like to tell that head master and that principal that they missed the opportunity to have this Magna Cum Laude graduate as an alum of their respective schools.

I would like to show them the photo of Mason receiving his hood for his thesis. I want them to read his undergraduate thesis on disability in the ancient world. I want them to know that this honors project won the Phi Beta Kappa award for best honors project at his school. I need them to know that they can not list this amazing Summa Cum Laude graduate and all of his accolades among their alumni.

And because they rejected her brothers, they also missed out on having Claire as an alum. My amazing wonderful Claire who also graduated Magna Cum Laude and who won awards for her writing, her Spanish, her leadership. They missed out on a student whose professors stood in line to hug her, to have their photo with her, because she loves big and encourages everyone in her path!!

Honestly, I didn't waste time feeling anger towards these uneducated educators as I sat waiting for my amazing graduates to process. Rather, I felt immense sadness that these people have places of power that might still today be leaving mothers like me -- families like us -- feeling frightened, inadequate, scared to hope for the future.

And then I felt determined -- even more determined than usual -- to keep writing, speaking, bellowing to mothers like me that our children are worth far more than the sum total of their motor skills. FAR FAR MORE WORTHY!! I am committed to helping educate the educators -- I will pour out my heart and our story over and over again to ensure that no other mama is ever told her five year olds can enter a school on probation, for goodness sake.

Did I mention that Benjamin, Mason, and Claire graduated from college this week? Benjamin graduated Magna Cum Laude with his BA in Dramatic Writing and a minor in Political Science. Mason graduated Summa Cum Laude with a BA in Sociology/Anthropology and Greek and Roman Studies and a minor in Archaeology. Claire graduated Magna Cum Laude with a BA in Spanish and a minor in English Writing. And all of that happened in FOUR YEARS!

I am so proud of these amazing kids. I am so proud.

Not a fan of holding my applause.

Holding my applause gives me hives.

Well, not really hives. But it annoys me. I have sat through two collegiate awards ceremonies in recent days (shout out to my amazing kids!), and find the admonition to hold our applause annoying. More than mildly.

Oh, I get it. The print on one of the programs is in a 4pt font in order to fit the exhaustive list of honorees. One just printed a big catalog of recipients in lieu of a program. That is a lot of people and a lot of awards and a lot of clapping. I GET IT.

But here's the thing. I am not a college professor having to sit through this every spring. I am not a member of the student life team eager to ensure the event runs smoothly. 

I am a mother who gets ONE shot to see her child recognized for the significant accomplishments of his and her college careers and you insisted the program move along so rapidly that at BOTH institutions, you didn't allow my kiddo to even pause for a photograph in view of the audience -- read: in view of this mother photographer -- but rather you whisked them to either the side or the back of the stage to snap a group shot while we were finally given permission to clap.

And frankly, I feel like the whole rushed thing left me wanting for more.

The triplets were five years old the first time I realized the healing power of applause. Each had their own chosen activity: Benjamin chose music, Mason chose gymnastics, and Claire chose ballet.

Mason would be the first to perform for parents. His class had just a hand full of students and so I expected there to be ten to twelve people watching. But the exhibition drew the attention of other families at the gym and soon the entire bleachers were filled and cheering for these tiny challenged gymnasts giving it their all on the balance beam, the bar, and the mat. 

I will never forget the moment Coach Kathy put a medal around Mason's neck and the crowd went wild. I mean, I was cheering like mad, and knew Wade, Benjamin and Claire were too, but to hear all the applause, you would have thought we brought the entire town to cheer for Mason. I had no idea who these people were but their support, echoed in their clapping, washed over me like a balm, and shouted that we were not alone. I can close my eyes and remember the feeling that I was not the only one who would spend time cheering for this boy.

Oh that wasn't the only time a crowd cheered for Mason. Claire, Benjamin, and Cate have had their fair share of cheering crowds too. And every single time -- from the stage to the piano hall to the softball field -- every single time, I hear support, love, celebration in those clapping hands. (And every time I put my hands together I am sending all of that...every time!)

Mason gathering awards.

Benjamin receiving accolades for his original play reading.

Claire at her awards day.

And isn't that the absolute best? Don't we need to feel celebrated? Supported?

Cate hit it to the fence last week and I found myself standing and cheering
 very loudly before I even knew what I was doing!

So if you serve in a place of influence over awards days of any kind, may I implore you to remember that you might have to attend dozens of these in your career, but for the student (and the mama) getting the award, this could be their only time to hear the crowd roar for them. Don't turn it into a generic hand patting at the end of a designated category for pete's sake. 

The next couple of weeks are FULL of college graduations for my trio. What a gift to be on the front row of the cheering section for these three -- be warned though, I don't intend to hold my applause.

No matter what.

We worked in the garage over the weekend. Actually, work might be a bit of a stretch.

We definitely sorted and purged and did a lot that felt like work. But at one point the girls came out to help. And the girls.....well, they kept uncovering treasures. And these treasures required them to sit and read all manner of things -- from favorite children's books to journals -- as well as to cuddle childhood toys, reminisce about why they saved this, or that.

There wasn't a lot of work going on, so I sent them inside.

And then I got busy...

Reading the notes in some of my prayer journals.

I guess the apples didn't fall far.....

When I opened a Bible Study from the bottom of one box, I expected to glance through and cull it out. I am trying my best to really sort and sift and purge. Oh for goodness sakes, we need to purge!

But I quickly realized this particular study was done during my first year of motherhood. I also realized that some of my most raw emotions were expressed in the prayer journal portion of some of the pages.

Mason sent me a text earlier this week with a question for a class-discussion: "If you could medically ensure that we never had Cerebral Palsy, would you?"

We went back and forth discussing this for a while. Because the answer is complicated. Did he mean young mommy me? Or did he mean me today?

Because even if I didn't remember those emotions so clearly, I had a veritable time-machine  just sitting in the middle of the garage waiting to be purged...

One morning in 1997, I had written out Psalm 25:4-5

"Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are my God, my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long." (NIV)

I then thanked God for sharing Benjamin, Mason, and Claire with me before confessing that the desires of my heart would be for Benjamin and Mason to catch up developmentally with their sister. My prayer was for Benjamin to roll-over. We monitored every movement he made. We coerced, helped, and begged him to reach that milestone of rolling over. My prayers reflected that. 

One morning I typed out this scripture:

"Send me your light and your faithful care, let them lead me; let them bring me to your holy mountain, to the place where you dwell." Psalm 43:3

I underscored the "your" before mountain as I then confessed that MY mountain would be for Benjamin and Mason to be "healthy, normal children." But concluded with imploring God to help me focus on HIS mountain -- His best for my children.

So clearly, if young me could have prevented my boys having Cerebral Palsy, I absolutely would have. I begged for their healing. I pleaded for a miracle. Repeatedly, I urged God to heal them so that we could give Him all the glory. 

It is birth month for my beloved three.  More than twenty years have passed since I wrote those words. More pointedly, in eight short days, those itty bitty babies will turn 22 years old.  They are full-grown adults.

And so today, I have the benefit of knowing who those babies become. I have the luxury of knowing that every obstacle, every surgery, every therapy session has molded and grown all three into absolutely amazing adults. I have the advantage of having watched them set goals and surpass them.

I have the gift of knowing that there are three circled dates on my calendar in early May marking the successful college graduations of these babies born three months too early -- college graduations that will include all manner of honor cords, accolades and degrees!!

And more than ALL of that -- I have the extra bonus of knowing them and finding them absolutely delightful!

Motherhood is hard. If I could have protected Benjamin, Mason, and Claire from the pain of the boys' having CP, I absolutely would have. I wish they could have avoided painful surgeries. I wish we could have spent more time playing and less time at doctor and therapy appointments.

And yet, as Mason and I moved our discussion from texting to a phone call, he and I pondered whether it was the obstacles that made them the adults they are today. Would they so passionately advocate if they had not had to knock down road block after road block to pursue their dreams? Would they possess the personalities that draw others to them, without the empathy that surgery after surgery has given? Would Dad be committed to the care of children with Cerebral palsy -- would he be doing life-changing research -- were it not for the fact that CP has colored our family?

Obviously, we have no idea what life would have looked like if these babies born in a bundle had arrived on time rather than so very early. We have no window into what they would have been without CP. But this, this I know with absolutely certainty: These three -- and their baby sister -- are changing the world. They are using their gifts -- many of those honed through their struggles with CP -- to spread hope, education, and advocacy. They urge me to share their story -- willing to have their lives shared in order to give hope to even just one family like ours. I am not the same woman who wrote in that journal twenty-something years ago. They have taught me and grown me more than I could have ever imagined.

And yet, some things don't change. At the end of one of my prayers in 1997, right after begging God for healing, I wrote this:

"But Father, I plead with you to prepare us as a family to bring you praise, honor, and glory no matter what the future holds!!"

Twenty-two years later, I would just like to add a couple extra exclamation points.

Really, Lori Loughlin? Really?

Ironic that just last week I stumbled upon my notes from all my phone calls with the College Board in preparation for Benjamin and Mason to take their college entrance exams. I spent hours doing the leg work to acquire the accommodations they would need in order to take the SAT.

I acquired medical documentation from various doctors.

I wrote letters.

I spent hours on the phone.

I scheduled the test at a local high school. And then I re-scheduled when less than 24-hours before the  SAT the proctors for my sons decided they would not work that Saturday, leaving the test-site no opportunity to replace them and no way to administer the test.

We fretted knowing that waiting for the next scheduled SAT opportunity would greatly reduce the window for re-taking prior to college application deadlines. We wanted the boys to have a practice-run since this was so important and such a physical challenge for them. But we were completely at the mercy of the test-site and the proctors so we had no options. None.

In the meantime, my boys (and sweet girl who didn't need special accommodations) were working tirelessly on their regular high school curriculum while also adding in hours of SAT-prep work to ensure they were as prepared as possible.

They faced nay-sayers who challenged their ability to even go to college. And yet they forged ahead determined to overcome the barriers, determined to reach for their goals, and chase down their dreams.

So my blood threatens to reach a boiling point as I read the news of Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman (and many others!) buying and cheating and bribing to get their children top college options. And when I read that some of the accused in this scandal faked disabilities to get more test-taking time, my reaction was physical pain.

Because while I was pushing and working and getting all the reams of paperwork in place to show that Benjamin and Mason do in fact have Cerebral Palsy resulting in loss of motor skills that would allow them to fill in those tiny bubbles on the SAT, I was also grieving AGAIN, the fact that Benjamin and Mason have Cerebral Palsy and could not just sign up to take the SAT anywhere, anytime.

We have spent years watching people at Disneyland and Walt Disney World push a wheelchair around and rotate who uses it in order to get to the front of the line. We knew that when a cast member gave us a hard time or questioned us about the boys' disability, it was because they had been burned one time too many by someone who didn't actually need the wheelchair.

I always want to shake the people and tell them that standing in line is a privilege they should celebrate. STANDING is not something to be taken for granted. Oh man, would we love STANDING in a line!

So its not that I am shocked that these families thought they could work the system and give their children an "easy" college entrance. Oh but I am so sad. And frankly, I am so mad. Because now, just like at Disney, where we have to show we actually NEED the wheelchairs, things will get even harder for young people like my sons who actually need the accommodations in order to take college entrance exams. And because these parents have waved some cash in order to WORK LESS for admittance, I -- and all the mothers like me who already spend days juggling doctor visits, therapy sessions, medicines, medical equipment, and so much more -- will have to WORK MORE, will have to jump through more hoops, and say again and again that our children have limitations that require them to have test-taking accommodations. We will have to prove we aren't just looking for an easy way in to college. As if anything has been easy in the road to academia for these amazing kids who have endured so much in their lives.

I read a quote from Lori Loughlin's daughter that said she was just in college for the party scene, she wasn't sure she would even go to class. And I thought, of course not. Why would you? You walked in with fake credentials. You didn't work for the opportunity in the least. Of course you can not understand the utter privilege of attending an institute that could challenge your mind, help you grow into an adult who contributes to society and makes the world a better place to live.

In less than two months, my trio -- including my two sons with Cerebral Palsy -- will graduate from college. They have made the absolute most of their years on their respective college campuses. They will graduate with honors, with a myriad of honor society distinctions, and with an eagerness to be contributing members of society.

They did not take an easy road into college. They did not choose easy majors (as a matter of fact all three will graduate with majors and minors -- one with TWO majors and a minor!) and they did not let the roadblock of their disabilities get in their way.

I know they make the world a better place.

I am not sure these mothers who have cheated and lied, and bribed will be able to say the same.

Knit one, purl what?

If you hang out on any of my other social media -- you have seen one or a hundred photos of my yarn obsession. I have been crocheting for a few years but last month, I began to take knitting classes. And while my children have warned me that this statement might age me ten years are so, I am not afraid to say, I am obsessed with knitting. Obsessed.

Bless Beverly at The Southern Needle. Bless her. She showed me the basics and told me to practice by making a washcloth. And I said, ok, but then what?

I currently have three projects going:

A beautiful scarf where I am learning this amazing feather and fan pattern! I stop every few minutes to show it to my family needing their oohs and ahhs. (You might imagine how thrilled they are!)

I am actually much farther along now...but I was so amazed at this stage, I had to capture it on my camera!

A knit-a-long Christmas throw where I am learning new patterns with each block and just having a delightful time seeing the patterns that appear as I knit! Honestly, it is so much fun!

And because, my dear teacher couldn't refuse me when I begged her to show me how to knit a hat at my last class...this:

Look at how the yarn is making stripes appear in the stitching? Isn't it delightful?

Except,  you see, it is large enough for a not-so-small animal to wear. It is huge. Cate tried it on and it went OVER her head and down to her neck.

And so, right after I took that photo. I pulled my yarn and undid the entire thing. All of it. And tonight, I began again.

And as I sat waiting on my Little Red to finish theatre rehearsal, I started over a total of three times before I FINALLY feel like I am on the right track. And as I sat there knitting, I wondered why I wasn't completely frustrated. I wondered why I didn't want to chunk this yarn and move back to my scarf. Honestly, I wondered why something that should by rights be making me crazy with frustration, was actually doing just the opposite. I was enjoying every single moment.

And it hit me.

We are at once in the middle and on the cusp of more changes than my mind can even grasp. Wade is already in Delaware, we close on our new home there later this week. We are in the throes of applying to schools for Little Red. And the triplets -- deep breath in, and out --  are preparing for college graduation! Our family time is rapid bites. We cram in as much quality as we can in far too little quantity. And some times, those quick visits are marred by some misunderstanding, or a misspoken word, or frustrated teen. And some times those visits are marred by a mama who desperately wants to rip the stitches back to a time when all my ducks were under the same roof, and ahem, I was in some semblance of control.

Beautiful then, that today I am reminded of my favorite Psalm:

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful.....all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Psalm 139:14, 16a

God's got this. He is a master knitter (You saw that, right?), never having to rip stitches back to begin again. Isn't that a relief?

I can't promise I'll get there right away. I might still want to rip the stitches back a bit -- if not to when my four were little bitty, then at least to the beginning of EVERY weekend, where I let my emotions flaw the time. But there is such assurance in knowing that I am not capable of marring God's perfect plan. He has already knit that story together. He has already knit ME together!

So if you need me, I'll be here knitting. And with each stitch, I will be praying for all the decisions facing my crew in the days ahead. And I'll be calmed by the repetition, and buoyed by the challenge, and reminded with every single stitch that God's got this.

Isn't that so amazing?

Writing with a gentle grasp....

I'm not a hundred percent certain I want to type yet. I don't want to disrupt the flow, or ask for trouble, or jinx anything, not anything at all.

And it is not that I am superstitious. I'm not. But I do know that pride can be the downfall of many a successful plan. Oh, I don't want to appear proud.

But I want to praise. I want to give praise. I want to shout my praise.

Benjamin has been on campus since Sunday and four nights in, all is well. Maybe not yet terrific. But minus a couple of hurdles, he is making it and even enjoying some of the late evening campus activities that he has never been able to participate in before....

There was a time when I would proudly proclaim my opinions to anyone who would listen -- part of the college experience is living on campus. I was adamant that a huge part of the education college kids receive happens in the dormitories as they learn to navigate the differences of the students all around them.

I lived in university housing at Mississippi State University for three years and deeply regret I didn't continue on campus for my fourth year. I had the privilege of working as a resident assistant for one of those years.

When Wade went to medical school, we worked as resident heads (dorm parents) for an undergrad dorm at the University of Chicago. The triplets were literally born into campus housing life. We ate meals with our students in the hall cafeteria. I clipped little chairs to the big circular table and our earliest family meals included three teeny tiny babies and a table full of brilliant college kids.

So, I am not kidding when I say I LOVE on-campus housing.

But a few years ago, I realized I should turn my opinion-volume to low. I should stop proclaiming how integral ON campus living was to the college experience because frankly I didn't think it could happen for Benjamin.

Mason has been on campus all four years -- as a matter of fact he is serving as an RA in his dorm for the third year in a row.

Claire has been on campus -- this year she is technically across the street from campus in an apartment, but it is still university-owned housing.

But Benjamin lived at home for the first three years. His freshman year, we didn't have a choice. The existing men's dorm was not accessible and he didn't have a staff of personal care attendants yet. Home was his only option. And really, being on campus and navigating classes, buildings, etc was a huge change for him. It was ok that he came home at night.

By sophomore year, we were so proud of the system that we didn't hesitate to continue doing what we had already done the year before -- except now, with some help from personal care attendants.

By junior year, we knew the new apartment had an accessible room but neither of us were too eager to discuss it. Dad however, began to talk about the opportunity to try independent living on campus. Dad began to plant the seed in both our minds.

And so, we jumped the hoops, made the calls, did all the leg work -- and met some amazing people along the way -- and this year, Benjamin is living on campus. He had an elevator snafu his full day living there and injured his foot painfully. But he kept going. He has been to several events on campus. He has learned to navigate for meals, for studies, and to all his classes. And he has faithfully called to let me know he is ok.

As for me, I am sleeping for the first time in 21 years in my bed without hearing him breathe over the intercom system he uses at home to communicate with me from bed. Rest assured I am still listening. But I can not hear him from here. I fret about his hair looking good. And I worry that no one is checking his posture in his wheelchair. I worry about this and that and the other and really just need to lay down my need to be the only one who can get his care right. It isn't true.

We are four days in. And I must say, I am hopeful for tomorrow.

Thank you, Mrs. Ernestine.

My first word of advice when parents ask me about college choice is always -- always -- look more at the heart of the school than at the architecture.

My trio all chose old, well-established universities. They all chose schools that were built before the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), and small enough liberal arts colleges that big overhauls have not been made in accessibility.

Loudly, I want to proclaim that overhauls are necessary on all three campuses. There are things that need to be done -- physically, and policy-wise to make those campuses more accessible. Period. (And rest assured, all three are doing what they can to get awareness raised on their respective campuses.)

But today, I was reminded of just how right I am when I say the heart of the campus is the biggest thing. The very biggest thing.

Almost four years ago now, Mason and I visited Millsaps College for a Welcome Weekend event. He went to his information sessions and I went to the parent sessions. In one session, the speaker introduced himself with a myriad of titles but one -- Accessibility Director -- caught my attention. I sought this administrator out following the session to introduce myself. I told him about Mason and what he needed to be successful in college. I asked if Millsaps could provide these things. He assured me they could as we walked across the campus. When we ran into Mason, I was thrilled to introduce the two of them. And then promptly realized how different college-life would be, when the director looked Mason in the eye and asked:

"Mason, I know what your mother thinks you need to be successful in college. What do you think you need?"

It won't surprise you to know that Mason's list was only a fraction as long as mine had been.

That was the day Mason took ownership of his college career -- months before he actually moved onto campus.

Today, I was at Millsaps for the semester ritual of Mom and son going together to purchase his textbooks -- for our next to last time. My mother-heart was happy enough watching the mini-reunions with everyone we ran into in that bookstore. As he begins his senior year, it is so clear that Mason has  a community.

After paying for his books, I started making my way out of the student center only to be stopped by one of the custodial staff, Mrs. Ernestine. "Are you his Mother?" she asked, nodding her head towards Mason. I smiled and said that yes, I am. 

She returned my smile, "Everybody on this campus loves your boy," she said. "You don't have to worry about him. We are all looking out for him."

I thanked her -- and tried not to cry. She went on, "Come here. Look over there. He is surrounded by his friends. I told you everybody loves him. Now you go on and don't worry."

Mrs. Ernestine is part of the heart of that campus.

Last week, Mason called concerned about some construction fencing that was blocking his accessible path for his scooter. I urged him to stop by and talk to the head of security, a college friend of his dad's, John Conway.

Mason called me back in minutes. "Mom, Mr. Conway is already on it. He has a plan and has instructed the construction team to move the fencing to make a path for me. I didn't even need to ask for it."

John Conway is part of the heart of that campus.

Benjamin has similar stories with a dear lady, Mrs. Elle, on his campus. Mrs. Elle has stopped me on numerous occasions to assure me she can get the doors for Benjamin and I should go on. She worries about him when he doesn't stop for lunch and she is always there with a hug when I am on campus. Mrs. Elle works in multiple buildings on Belhaven's campus but she always seeks out Benjamin to say hello. She is part of the heart of that campus.

I talked to my girl today, too. Goodness, she doesn't need the accessibility, and yet she actively fights for it for those that do. I told her about my conversation with Mrs. Ernestine and she laughed and told me that she was walking to campus for the first time from her just-off-the-edge-of-campus-apartment and one of the security officers saw her and offered her a ride in his golf cart today. We laughed that even she is well taken care of on campus.

As my trio begin their senior year of college (SENIOR YEAR!!!), I have learned so much about college choices, campus accessibility, and the ability of my children to overcome and persevere. I am not going to sugar-coat it and pretend that all of it has been rosy. And I am keeping notes in an effort to help those who come behind us.

But we were spot on when we said the heart of these three schools was exactly what we were looking for.

Mrs. Ernestine was a perfect reminder.

Eight Times Harder.

I posted a rant on Facebook today. 

And as my supportive network has rallied around me by clicking the like button, the love button and the sad button....they have left comments urging me to start my own consulting firm to help other families like our's. And I am left wondering exactly what that looks like, exactly what I would say. And if I am over-reacting about this whole process -- the process of arranging for Benjamin to live on campus for his senior year -- by saying I am having to work eight times harder than parents of non-special needs children.

And if there is anything I am certain about, it is that I am absolutely 100 percent correct in saying we work at least 8 times harder and we should NOT have to. 

I understand that because my son uses a power wheelchair to roll through life, we DO require some special considerations. We require access to buildings, for example. We require access to rooms -- bedrooms, bathrooms, etc. So while I would really (really really) love a world where we just built accessibly, that isn't a reality. The men's single dorm on Benjamin's campus when he started his freshman year had a ledge to the community bathroom that required you to step up and over. That was ok, though, Benjamin (nor I) were quite ready to try independent living.

Over the course of that year, however, the university built an apartment-style dorm that DOES have accessibility. And we began to dream and hope and wonder what it would look like if Benjamin lived on campus. 

Last spring, Benjamin and I finally felt like we were ready to at least begin the conversation with the university.

I am not going to lie, I wanted the meeting to go something like this:

"We have been hoping you would want to live on campus, Benjamin! We have the apartment ready. Tell us what else we can do to make this happen."

Obviously, if I am writing this post, the meeting didn't go that way. 

Benjamin has done the work to be successful in college. He loves that campus. He loves his fellow students and the professors. He has taken large loads every single semester and he has been successful. He has been successful not because it is easy but because he is willing to work harder hours, longer hours, and through all the obstacles.

He has been successful because he accepts that he has to work at least eight times harder than his friends. At least.

And so even though I don't think it is right. And even though I know it can be done better and with more ease than is currently happening. I will continue to push forward. I will follow Benjamin's lead. I will work eight times harder. More if necessary.

Rest assured -- I'll keep you posted about the housing and the consulting firm! ;)

Apparently August is my blubbering season.

It is my third Fall as a college mom. I was kind of cocky as summer drew to a close -- I have this down pat, I thought. I didn't fall completely apart when one college kid spent his summer in the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico, and one spent her summer in the middle of Texas, and one spent his in Virginia (granted, he took me with him but still).

I commended myself for my level of maturity. Yes, you read that right. And yes, I know I should be talking about the level of maturity that Mason, Claire, and Benjamin have reached but the thing is, I never doubted they would rise to the challenge of college. On the other hand, I have fully and completely doubted that I could rise to the challenge of letting them go.

But in early August, I really thought I was getting there. I was eager to hear about their latest adventures. I gladly discussed new room decor, apartment life, and back-to-school supplies. I have to say I was pretty proud of myself.

Let's be honest, I fully intended for inspiration to hit any moment in order to write a piece of literary genius encouraging all the first-time-sending-their-birds-out-of-the-nest-mothers out there that would be absolutely epic and full of life-changing wisdom!

Instead, today, I turned into a liquid puddle of emotional slush and realized I am still not so very good at this college thing.

So I concede this -- the triplets' junior year of college -- that I may never have the wisdom to teach other moms how to let go. But if you need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to you brag, or a great big hug, I am here. And it would be my honor to walk with you in this season!

Yes, Little Red is playing football! So thankful that the triplets' college schedules allowed
 them to be home for her first game to celebrate her -- to invest in her life! 

Home is behind. Sigh.

"Home is behind. The world ahead and there are many paths to tread through shadows to the edge of night until the stars are all alight." J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

My stars are not alight. Two of my shining stars boarded planes this week for summer adventures: Claire to Texas to serve at a camp for her favorite population -- kiddos with special needs! She will meet us in July for a family vacation and then return to camp to finish out the summer. Mason is on his way -- even as I type -- to the Yucatan where he will work with one of his professors on an archaeological dig of an ancient Mayan temple. He will fly home in July -- just in time for our big family vacay!

Cate and Claire at the airport....

Mason going through security.

I know that we have been spoiled because all three of my college kids chose schools within a half hour from me -- and each other. So while Mason and Claire haven't lived at home the last two school years, I could get to them, they could get to me, and basically that freedom has helped us transition from our extremely nuclear little homeschooling cocoon to college life. Oh, I am thankful.

But this. This boarding the plane and flying off is for seven weeks straight. That seems like a really really long time. I like them. They are among my absolute favorite people on the planet. And I put them on a plane.

It would help if they didn't still look like this in my mind as they walked away from me:

And really, I am just so proud of both of them that I am fairly bursting. And that is quite an emotional roller-coaster between wanting to see them reach for the stars, and wanting to hold them close to me. And because with triplets, one or two simultaneous conflicting emotions has never been and will apparently never be enough -- there is a whole other element. My Benjamin.

I see it in his face. He wants to go too. He wants to leave and fly and do big things. And he does have things planned for his summer -- they will just happen later and they will happen with me accompanying him. And so I am torn between wanting to hug him for staying here and being within my vision all summer, and cry for him that he can't board a plane without me. 

And really, I want to scream that it isn't fair which seems completely silly because if he could leave I would do just what I did when his brother and sister left: cry and complain that leaving me isn't fair.

Oh for the love of mercy. The vast twists of conflicting emotions is leaving me wanting to don my pajamas and stay in bed for the summer. But that hardly seems like any fun.

And so we will put one foot in front of the other this summer. I will embrace the moments with Benjamin and Cate and will relish the tales from the adventures of Mason and Claire! And while we won't wish the days away, we will celebrate when we are finally, all back together!!

My birthday celebration last week....love my little family!

"...Then world behind and home ahead, We'll wander back and home to bed...." J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

They showed him.

I was so thrilled when the Phoenix, Arizona therapy agency sent a man to be the boys' occupational therapist.  Don't get me wrong -- we had had some amazing wonderful women in their 16 years of therapy. Women who held my hand in those early years; women who cried with me when we realized things were not going to come easily; women who pushed with me when the boys needed to reach the next milestone. I know with certainty that Susan, Tonya, Laura, Kim, Rose, Tami, Barb, and so many others shaped me as a mother through their attitudes and belief in my boys as we wrestled with diagnoses, surgeries, setbacks, and milestones. I know.

Occupational Therapy!

But now I had two almost-16-year-olds and I thought perhaps a guy could motivate them to push through some of the fine motor struggles. I was hopeful.

He had only been providing therapy a few months when he showed up late. I explained we couldn't stay late that day because we had the triplets' first college tour scheduled for immediately following therapy. He abruptly turned his head to me and said, "College?" And I nodded. To which he looked at Benjamin and Mason and said, "Really? They will be able to go to college? How will that work?"

I opened the door and showed him the way out.

You may have already heard that story. I find the need to repeat it every semester about this time. And today, I am repeating it at the end of my triplets' FOURTH college semester. Fourth!

See, not only CAN those kiddos of mine GO to college -- they can excel!

Benjamin is in the middle of performing in Belhaven University's production of "Music Man."

He is performing every night, while still going to classes, writing scripts, short stories, and political science essays. He is performing every night while still studying for exams and preparing for the end-of-semester rush.

During his Fall semester, he added a class to his already full load. I will admit to being a bit concerned for his endurance taking such a huge class load. Can I tell you that at the end of that semester,  I received a letter from the president of his university commending him on being one of 83 students in accomplishing a 4.0 that semester. He doesn't just go to college -- he thrives at college.

And Mason, well Mason was just given the Greek Award -- no not for anything related to his fraternity. He was given the award for having the highest GPA in GREEK class! Greek.

So today, my boys (and their amazing sisters) would tell you they aren't doing anything spectacular. They are simply going to class, doing the work, and studying hard. But I know. I know that what they are really doing is far far bigger. They are re-coloring the book. They are re-mapping the roads. They are re-defining what it means to live with cerebral palsy.

And hopefully, somewhere a male occupational therapist is taking notes and being educated. And learning that CP does not stop us from reaching our dreams.