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.

One teacher can change the world.

My triplets will graduate from high school one week from today. One week. And though as I sit here, I KNOW that they have successfully completed their work for high school; and I KNOW they have scored high enough on the SAT to not only gain college entrance but to also receive scholarship, there was a season when not only did I not KNOW if these things were possible, I was almost afraid to even dream them.

And then I met Cindy Ramsdell, a second grade teacher at Aldridge Elementary School in Texas.

Outside Aldridge Elementary School -- Mason, Benjamin and Claire

We moved to the area just in time for the triplets to begin second grade at Aldridge. I didn't know anything about the school, the teachers or even the area when we pulled into that parking lot on the first day, but Mrs. Ramsdell's smile alone assured me she was going to be a good fit for my Benjamin.

Mrs. Ramsdell spent less than a week with my son before she asked to speak with me. "Benjamin gets along very well with adults," she said as I nodded in agreement. "I want to see him interact more often with his peers this year."

I was in agreement but frankly had my doubts she could pull it off. The nature of Benjamin's disability required a swarm of adult caregivers circling him in those days -- a paraprofessional who scribed his work; a physical therapist who pulled him out at least once a week for therapy; an occupational therapist who did the same; a special PE instructor who worked with him during PE time....and so on. How in the world was she going to implement her goals for Benjamin?

I should not have wondered. Her smile and diminutive size did not speak to the ferocity of this teacher. Mrs. Ramsdell started by rearranging her classroom so that Benjamin was surrounded by his peers -- not sitting in a corner at a special desk. She brought in the maintenance staff to adapt his desk so that the re-aarangement still worked for him.

Then she did this extraordinary out-of-the-box thing -- she kicked all of the adult helpers out of her classroom. Kicked them out. It was a bold move to be sure. One that might very well only have worked for second grade -- but work it did! If her students finished their work early, they were rewarded by getting to be Benjamin's secretary. Please don't miss that. She rewarded her hardest working students by allowing them to scribe for my son who could not write for himself. Within two weeks, Benjamin was being invited for playdates at the homes of these new friends, friends that 10 years and two states away, he still connects with regularly!

I could write for days about the ways Cindy Ramsdell changed her classroom to accommodate my son -- she brought in a computer just for him, she changed the timing of his favorite subjects so that he would not miss them during the required Physical and Occupational therapy time each week. She went over and beyond so that Benjamin would understand the value she placed on him as part of her class.

And though I was far beyond second grade in my schooling, this teacher taught me so much. She valued my son. She saw enormous potential that though challenged by his physical struggles was NOT squelched by them. She taught me to not only dream big things for Benjamin but to EXPECT them! She showed me that I was not alone he thinking he was smart. She confirmed that he was smart, really smart and taught me how to help him get his ideas onto paper. She changed our expectations for our incredible boy.

Playing soccer with his friends in Texas.

Today, Mrs. Ramsdell sent Benjamin a beautiful graduation card. He shared it with me -- and I read how she knew how extraordinary he was within days of his rolling into her classroom. She encouraged his dreams and  once again spurred him to aim high.

With tears rolling down my face, I once again -- for probably the millionth time in 10 years -- gave thanks for the life of this second grade teacher. I gave thanks for this woman who has dedicated her life to bettering the lives of not just my son, but of hundreds of young people who are no doubt better for having had this teacher believe in them and push them toward their dreams.

Thank you, Mrs. Ramsdell, for believing, for encouraging, for being a teacher setting the bar high for teachers everywhere! We are grateful that you remain in Benjamin's cheering section! He is going to keep us on our feet cheering wildly -- thanks to you we know THAT!!

Because I am having all the thoughts.

The movers are at my house. My home once-filled with all my favorite things is currently in a state of complete chaos with most essentials already loaded on the big truck sitting in my cul-de-sac. I feel a bit out of sorts. Sigh.

Unrelated picture of Pluto...for not other reason than he calms our nerves!

But my brain is swarming with thoughts, dreams, hopes, fears, anxieties, philosophies. You know, the stuff that crazed, over-tired brains swarm with.

In no particular order:

1. The baseboards in our empty bedrooms tell a story about the life of the room-dwellers. I am cleaning and vacuuming and yet, wanting to savor the stories. The movers had no sooner removed Benjamin's bed for instance, before I knew immediately where all the rubber bands had disappeared to every single night during his orthodontia years!

The baseboard behind Cate's adorable window seat shares her love of glitter, rainbow loom and even some softball equipment!

I found feathers from theater costumes behind Mason's; and card stock and craft supplies behind Claire's. 

The cleaning in the midst of the crazy has offered a little reminder to take things slow and savor the LIFE moments with my four. Because, as corny as it sounds, those years are vacuumed up in a heartbeat.

Mid-Tournament Game -- this happy face means she made an awesome play!

2. My trio and I just finished The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. Wow. What a beautiful book! We have discussed it and then re-visited the discussion repeatedly because it warrants so much analysis. 

Particularly poignant for me was the woman so in-love with her child that she failed to love or be in relationship with anyone else -- including God. I had to re-read the chapter and swallow deep the knowledge that I do not often get my priorities in this area completely right.

The visual image of this woman visiting heaven to decide if she was willing to lay down this obsession with her son in order to fully be immersed in heaven -- and her subsequent refusal to do so -- was a powerful spur to ensure I keep the right perspective on my priorities: God, husband, children, family and friends. (Really, you must read this book!)

3. My trio of graduating seniors performed in their final high school production this weekend. The words about this get stuck in my throat. I am choking on the raw emotion of seeing them perform, watching them shine and remembering, oh remembering the experience of this wonderful theater company that did not blink at included all four!

With Benjamin's beloved Physical Therapist -- she has been to every show!!

Flappers blowing kisses good-bye to my sweet girl....

Me and part of my super-talented crew!

His chair was not very 1920s....so the director transformed it into a "Producer's Chair"! LOVED IT!

Surprise going-away party thrown by the cast for my kiddos!! So so dear!

There are other thoughts -- thoughts anticipating the move home, thoughts of anticipating the first day of college for each of my three, thoughts of gratitude for the investment our friends and family have made in the lives of these little bitty babies born far too early 18 years ago. But alas, the movers are summoning me for assistance, the vacuum has sat idle too long and I think there is quite a disgusting mess where my washing machine once stood. Sigh. I'll be back. And I'm sure I'll over-share about all the emotions once or twice more.

For now....

Hand-written addresses and the beauty of memories!

We sat at the cutest little table in the middle of the American Girl store making one last childhood memory before my beautiful daughter (and her adorable brothers) turned 18 the next day. We had giggled, taken pictures and dressed baby dolls in the course of our morning. It was a day etched in my memory as practically perfect!

During our lunch, the AG Cafe provided a little box of questions for us to answer about ourselves. We were having a ball -- this is the sort of thing that Claire, Cate and I adore! We had laughed so much as we simultaneously responded to "If you owned a store, what would you sell?" BOOKS, we had practically screamed in unison!

And then Little Red asked which we prefer, email or getting letters in a mailbox? Oh goodness. We had quite a discussion amongst three young (indulge me...sitting in the American Girl store, I DID indeed feel young!) ladies with vastly different introductions to email.

I love email, I exclaimed! It has been a lifeline for me to friends near and far as we have moved around the continent. I told the girls about the "dark ages" when long-distance phone calls took far more money than we had, and waiting on a letter letter seemed to take decades!

Claire loves to get a letter in the mailbox. She considers it very charming and as such spends a good amount of time sending letters herself in the hopes of blessing someone with a postage stamp!

Cate was torn. She doesn't have her own email -- and she DOES love to check the mailbox -- but the concept of having her own email and Facebook is so romantic to her right now that she was struggling to remember how much she enjoys getting a letter.

Today, I am storing these memories in my heart as I hand address the triplets' graduation invitations. Now, I was tempted to bulk print the labels until my Mother -- queen of all etiquette -- implored me to hand-write them. I may have grumbled a smidge.

But the truth is, I LOVE handwriting these addresses. I see the name and am instantly full of memories: Neighbors from three moves ago. Members of Wade and my Newlywed Sunday School class more than two decades ago. Friends from high school, college, medical school...

I addressed one of Wade's medical school friends and instantly remembered laying in a hospital bed on the Labor and Delivery Floor at the University of Chicago where the nurses were so busy they usually forgot to bring food to the bedridden woman praying NOT to deliver any time soon. Dear dear Blaine would stop by the UofC cafeteria on Wednesdays and bring me a $1 milkshake.  He and his family are so dear to us. Addressing their envelope made me smile.

I turn the page in my address book and tear up. The next three addresses are the trio's NICU nurses. Oh, how I want these ladies to celebrate this graduation with us. I almost rip the envelope I am bearing down so hard with excitement and eagerness to share a milestone I know we would never have reached without the gentle, tender care of Laura, Tricia, and Diane! I know the ladies who taught ME to celebrate every single gram gained, will be filled with joy about this news.

I write more -- giving thanks for friends and family that have prayed for these babies of mine since the day we learned there were three. Oh, I am so grateful for our prayer warriors!!

And then I choke up again. There is her name -- Susan. The boys' first Occupational Therapist. Susan gave birth to her firstborn the same day the triplets were born. When at nine months the boys began seeing her for therapy, she became a gift from God! "Why does Benjamin need to reach for those beads?" I would naively ask. She would explain how she was trying to teach him to reach across mid-line, a very necessary developmental skill and I would cry. And she would cry. And then we would wipe our tears and get back to work.

She taught me how to encourage and push the boys while STILL realizing how amazing they were. She never once treated them as if they WOULD BE amazing if ONLY they could learn the skills she was presenting. No. She treated them -- and me -- as though they were already perfect, she was just trying to help make them even better. It was enormous for a young mama who had no idea how to navigate the waters of Cerebral Palsy. (And she never once reprimanded a teeny tiny Claire who didn't need therapy but surely loved the beads the boys had to reach for so much we often found them um, hiding in her clothing when we got home!)

And so I continue to address these announcements that celebrate my trio. I am beaming with pride. I am shouting my gratitude to God. I am praying for the young adults that are achieving this HUGE milestone in their life. And I am thanking God for each and every person on our list -- for the impact they have made on my life, on Benjamin's life, on Mason's and Claire's lives. I am thankful for each prayer offered on our behalf, for each note sent, email read and Facebook friend add. I am thankful for the prayer warriors that made this graduation announcement possible.

And so I offer my hand-addressed invitation as a completely inadequate thank you note to so many. I offer it as a meager attempt at thanking you for loving us, for praying for us and for being so supportive in the last 18 years.

And to answer the question in the AG Cafe, I LOVE hand-written mail! Don't you?

Liar, Liar....

The bell rang and as the students filed out of the kindergarten classroom I couldn't help but notice Mason had something around his neck. But the thing that really drew my attention was his smile -- it was from ear to ear!

"I lost my first tooth!" Mason exclaimed when he was close enough for me to hear him. My face obviously betrayed my emotions -- I was not ready for this rite-of-passage moment -- because the next words out of his mouth were, "Don't worry, Mama. I promise not to grow up too fast."

But in eight days that adorable 5-year-old -- and his triplet siblings -- will turn 18. 18. And really, it is taking everything I have, not to torment him repeatedly with a refrain of "Liar, liar, pants on fire!"

And once I again, I fear my face betrays my emotions because today my dear Mason asked me if I was really sad about them turning 18 next week.

Hmm.

In full disclosure, I should tell you that I probably sighed three times deeply before answering:

"Well, if you can not be four, then I am excited about you being 18."

There.

That is the absolute truth. I would turn that clock back in a minute to those precious preschool days. I know I am romanticizing it in my head this month, I know. But oh, these three were a delight and our days, though busy, were also so very joyful.

I left Mason believing that I just wanted to turn the clock back, but honestly, it isn't that. I wish we could go back in time with all we know today, with the wisdom of years, and the peace of acceptance.

Can you sit on that with me? I wish I could go back to those fleeting preschool years with the peace of acceptance. 

I wasted an obscene amount of time worrying. I wasted an inordinate amount of energy fretting. And I wasted an awful amount of emotion obsessing over what the boys would and would not be able to do with their future.

Today Mason had to have an MRI for this ongoing hip pain. I feel weepy in my heart for his challenges and the Mama-bear wants to go head to toe with Cerebral Palsy right now, giving it a couple of punches that only a Mama-bear in full-on-protect-her-cubs-mode can deliver.

But honestly, the thing I really want to punch CP for is the joy it robbed. Oh don't feel sad for me -- I am far too stubborn to have allowed all our joy to be robbed. I didn't do that ever. But still, I long for the minutes wasted in worry. I long for the hours obsessing on the what-ifs. And I long long for the days given over to sadness because of the hard road.

So hear me young mamas, I am yelling at you in the best possible way today: Live in hope for the future of your young ones, celebrate every single milestone and cheer like a crazy woman as they tackle obstacles that others might find easy. 

But find peace in loving them well. Find strength in carving out days for their childhood -- days that consist of super-hero capes and ice cream cones, days where you don't disguise therapy as play, you just actually PLAY. Find what makes their heart smile and make sure you have days filled with that!

Because here, at the eve of adulthood, two of my trio still have Cerebral Palsy. The hours of worry and fret did not cure them. The obsessing about their futures did not take about the obstacles they have to overcome. The joy robbed can not be replaced.

And yet, here we are, at this huge milestone, celebrating THREE lives that contribute mightily to every endeavor they attempt. They will graduate high school next month. They will set off for colleges of their choosing a few months down the road. And they will continue to do what they have always done so very very well: overcome any obstacle in their path as they seek to accomplish their life dreams and life goals.

And the truth is I am tickled as punch with who they are at 18. I love them to pieces and still enjoy our joy-filled time! And I could not be more excited to see what the coming months hold for them -- we exchanged fretting over all the little things with celebrating like mad all the big things!

We'll be here celebrating if you need us. (and cake...there will be cake!)

Where are the molasses when you need them?

Last week -- or you know in 1986, I was a senior in high school. 

I know you are going to pin this on your Hair board on Pinterest....it's a good look, right?

Oh the days of that year were long, I kept a running tally in my history notebook of exactly how many days were left in that senior year. I was certain we were swimming in molasses because the days were so so so slow and the year seemed to just freeze and go no where fast.

I expected no less of this year. No less of the senior year for my amazing trio of babies. But y'all, that is just not the case. I blinked. I made the huge mistake that everyone cautions young moms about -- I blinked. And now, we are swiftly approaching the day.

Their graduation announcements arrived in the mail yesterday. I love them.  And I cried. Because really, what they represent, oh my heart, what they represent.

And then I pulled myself together and thought that part through -- what do they represent? And y'all, I could not be more excited for what that big box of graduation announcements represents:

Because when I say Benjamin, Mason and Claire (birth order, y'all. Always birth order!) are graduating high school, it means so much, it represents so much.

The graduation announcement is a shout, a scream, a celebration! It represents years of hard work by three little bitty babies. It represents the dreams and the plans of two parents that remember too vividly the sounds of a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit where every bell, whistle, alarm confirmed an uncertain future for their beloved babies.

It embodies the triumph over all the obstacles of all three of my born-too-early children. It eases -- if not completely erases --  the ache of the day the doctor said Benjamin and Mason might never have head control, might never walk, talk or a myriad of other issues. 

The little card with the faces I love so much is way more than a piece of card stock an a date. It is more than just an emotional prompt for a Mama who adores mothering these three (plus the little bonus God threw in!). No it is far far more. It is symbol of victory. It is a shout to the mountaintops of how God redeems and restores and overcomes.

I don't promise not to cry -- but hear me loud and clear, this is a celebration, a thanksgiving to God for all He has done and continues to do through their lives. I say it often but oh how it bears repeating, I am thankful to be on the front row of their cheering section. I can not wait to see all that God does through them!!