Just your typical American family. Living in Seoul, Korea. With 4 kids, 2 dogs, 1 extra chromosome, a few swim meets, and a whole lotta kimchi. Like I said, typical.
The Korean peninsula has been making the news as of late. You've probably read that we're "on the brink of war" over here. The media may have brewed up images of us hurriedly packing a few bags and evacuating Seoul, with kids and dogs and soju.
This is far from our reality. It's just another summer day in Seoul. Okay, with a little twist on normal. Mike's working nights during the joint military exercises which means I've gotta get these blaring kids out of the house so he can sleep.
Today, we went to Namsan Park, a slice of nature about 5 minutes from home.
It's a mountain at the top of which is Seoul Tower. The walk up, however, is all winding trails, playgrounds, mineral water springs, work out equipment, and even restaurants.
Dave and the kids climbed up a steep slope using a rope.
While I found a book nook. This fabulous little tent is in a playground for kids who would rather explore a good read than the dirt. I could have spent days in there in my youth.
Iryna and Dave goofed off on a swing built for two.
I found an elusive Korean tiger!! Not extinct!!
We wandered off to a pond to watch the koi swim and hunt for the turtles that make the pond home.
We found only one fish, a lot of lily pads, some cattails...
...and a heart shaped key. We speculate that it's the key to a storage unit filled with cash from the illegal Asian drug trade. The problem, of course, is we don't know where to find the storage unit.
We will just have to rely on our good looks to make our millions.
Good thing we seem to have a lot of those good looks.
I smell college funds!
And CHEESE!!
Thirsty, we left the pond in search of the mineral springs to fill up our bottles.
The mineral spring was a bust. Big signs plastered all over the area warned us against drinking the water. EColi contaminated. So, we hopped on the exercise equipment and had ourselves a work out.
Iryna and Roman tried to out do each other.
I think Roman won.
Never one to work out when I don't have to, instead I looked around, watching what the old folks around us were up to.
I discovered fruit trees!! These guys were hitting the trees with sticks and getting fruit to munch. Bushels of wild nectarines littered the ground and hung heavy from the trees.
Dave gave the trees several good, hard shakes. Like manna from heaven, down came the fruit.
An afternoon snack enjoyed by all. Can't beat that! Better than sewage mineral water, anyway.
As a side note: nectarines apparently also have a laxative effect. Shortly after this, Kelly had his first poop in the woods.
Yay?
For his part, Kelly had a blast. He loves stopping and talking to all the older Koreans he meets. And they love him right back.
By the end, he was exhausted. I packed him on my back and we headed home. Safe and sound.
Four years ago, I had no awareness. I knew very little about Down syndrome. All I knew was that the baby boy I was carrying had a 1 in 12 chance of having it.
I was aware that the doctor I was seeing wanted me to have an amniocentesis to be certain about the chromosome count. I was aware that if the test came back positive, he'd want me to terminate. I was aware that he thought I was very foolish to be almost 40 and having a baby. And even more foolish to be refusing the amnio.
I was aware that the doctor thought a child with Down syndrome would be a burden on our family and that allowing that wouldn't be fair to my other children. I was also aware that many, nay, most people in the world agreed with him.
I was also aware, very powerfully aware, that this baby was deeply loved and desperately wanted. He had been a part of our family since before his conception. We would welcome him with whatever chromosome count he showed up sporting.
I'd be a liar if I told you that when Kelly was born, Down syndrome didn't scare me and make me grieve for that child without any disabilities for whom I'd prayed. It's an unknown. Uncharted territory. It's terrifying.
But then, I got to know Kelly.
He's a quirky, funny kid. He loves to make people laugh and will go to great lengths to make that happen. His giggles are infectious and he has a different smile for each occasion.
This is his smile for Sister because she's taking you on this little bitty baby train and she'd rather not because she's not a baby, thankyouvermuch.
And this is his smile for Dadda because if you do then you may be able to climb down off his lap and throw other people's shoes over the cliff down to the bottomless pits of Seoul while the fireworks are shooting off.
Yeah. That kid.
But the good Lord knows the child isn't always happy. I swear, when I hear people say "Oh, they're such happy people," I just want to slap them across the face and hand him off to then for the rest of the day. Happy? Yes. Happier than any of the rest of us earthlings?
Well, you tell me. Does he look like he's happy here? All this because I wouldn't let him throw money at the swimmers while they practiced.
Yeah, he's a mischievous little inquisitor. Always looking for trouble to make.
His kind of havoc doesn't just happen. It takes careful plotting and planning. Can't you tell?
His hijinks are nothing to snort at. This is, after all, the kid that dialed 911 TWICE!! And dumped an entire shelf of shampoo bottles at the store. And posted embarrassing pictures on my Facebook. And threw his metal sippy cup at a passing taxi... multiple times.
Need I go on?
He's like Dennis the Menace if Dennis had 47 chromosomes.
He's Kellster the Kranker. Oy.
He's a boy. A B-O-Y boy! He loves trucks and helicopters and guns and his penis. This is the kid that will wind up driving to a hunting cabin in a tricked out speedster with one hand on the wheel and the other on his junk.
He loves to tackle and wrestle. If you are ever in his presence, don't find yourself sitting on the floor. To Kelly, that's an open invitation for some hand to hand combat.
Given the fact that his biggest weakness is gross motor skills, it's surprising when I tell people that Kelly is my most athletic child. But it's true. He has a natural inclination towards sports.
These kids at the playground cannot play soccer when Kelly's there. He interrupts their game every few minutes to practice his kicking and passing. He's determined that one day soon they will let him play. And they might. Just so they can continue their game.
We took him to an indoor adventure park for the under 10 set. We tried the bouncy houses, but he doesn't yet have the core strength to keep his balance. We tried the radio controlled race cars, but, while he loved watching them, the concept of driving them around was lost on him.
It's in those times, those rare times, when Kelly just isn't able to do the fun things that other kids his age can do, that my heart breaks a little.
Just a little, though, and never for long. Because he's always surprising me with what he can and will do.
Like marching straight over to the zipline, picking up the equipment, and putting it on himself. And when I figured I'd just get a cute picture and then we'd take the equipment off and turn it back in, he pointed to the zipline and climbed up the stairs ready to fly.
I wasn't sure if the tears streaming down my face were joy, sorrow, or relief that he'd made it safely to the other side. They soon dried up, though, as Kelly continued to zipline for the next hour, straight. Over and over and over again. Fearlessly. Confidently. Loving every single second of it.
Adrenalin junky.
In fact, he prefers it when his siblings push him on the swing. They push a hell of a lot harder and higher than Mama can handle.
Although, his newest passion is sitting on the big kids' swing and pumping his legs to swing himself. He gets a lot of satisfaction in doing things his way.
And he's clever about it, too.
I wanted to help him with his cold, drippy push up pop. He told me, "No, no, no." Then took off his shoe, then his sock. Frustrated with him, I walked away to the toilet. When I got out, this is how I found him.
Genius, I'd say. Pure genius.
Kelly truly is gifted.
He healed my broken heart and made me whole again. If it weren't for his coming along when he did, I don't know how I would be functioning at this point. He picked up the pieces by just being here.
The happiness he brings our family is immeasurable. No other member of our family has this gift. It's a gift that prior to Kelly, I was unaware existed.
So, awareness.
Awareness of Down syndrome. There is a lot to know about it. Medical issues and cognitive delays, childhood leukemia and Alzheimer's disease, disability rights and special education.
Every Monday I start a diet. It's a ritual I started when I was in the 3rd grade. As you can tell by looking at me, it usually only lasts till noon.
Today, being Monday, I devoutly ate my meager breakfast then put a healthy dinner in the crockpot. For reasons still unclear to me, the meat didn't cook through by dinner time, making it necessary for us to eat out.
Fortunately, I'd gone off the wagon at lunch.
We supped at a local BBQ joint, feasting on rice and potato salad and grilled pork marinated in a sweet sauce.
A carbohydrate addict's dream.
Then, on the walk home we hit up our favorite bakery. It's a tiny little shop, no bigger than our kitchen at home with a bohemian feel. It's artsy and homey and wonderfully simple.
Even the name: Bbang. It means, plainly, "bread."
And they have the most amazing bread. And muffins. And cake. And cookies. And bread.
Did I mention the bread? Several different kinds of bread. Their old fashioned white bread is to die for. Exactly how you remember grandma's bread tasting.
Tonight we tried their berry bread as dessert.
What I don't get, however, is how the owner stays so slim. How? Does she not eat bread? Or rice? Or potato salad?
It's a real mystery. One I intend to solve. And to do so I will have to keep going back there. To research.
Every Monday. After noon.
Carbs don't count if they're ingested in the name of science. I'm pretty sure.
Growing up, I never really fit in anywhere. A square peg surrounded by round holes, I would cling to the edges of various groups, trying to meld.
It never worked.
In college, I found many like minded, accepting people and the courage to just be me. I stopped trying to fit in and instead created my own fit.
And I found Mike.
Still a misfit, but paired with another. It was as good as any fit could have been.
Then one day, while living in Korea, we walked into a pub in Itaewon, Seoul and found a cast of characters so odd, so colorful, with such depth and diversity that I felt I was finally home. Imagine the tv show Cheers with many more players and far more interesting plots.
Everyone had a unique backstory that brought them to Itaewon. There were soldiers and retirees, English teachers and journalists, embassy staff and entrepreneurs, expats and Korean nationals. There were people escaping bad family situations and money troubles, recovering from broken hearts, abusive relationships, and drug addictions and those just trying to find themselves. Some were very wealthy with drivers and trust funds. Some were broke and borrowing their next beer. There were those who'd landed in Korea and became tied down to it, and those who desperately wanted to escape.
These weren't your typical white picket fence folks. They were different. All of them. Mike and I soon found ourselves knitted quite nicely within their expat community.
The ringleader of this crazy circus was a German Aussie named Gunter. He owned the pub which was the headquarters of the crew. Mike and he quickly become "best mates."
Long after we left Korea and Gunter retired to Thailand, they remained close. Every Christmas they played a beer drinking boot game over Skype. They did the same for each of their birthdays.
With our return to Korea this summer, Gunter decided it was time to pay Itaewon a visit. We hadn't seen each other face to face in almost 8 years.
It was like a homecoming of sorts. An older, wrinkly, gray haired homecoming without the fancy dresses and a whole lot more beer. But still. Homecoming. People we hadn't seen or heard from in many years came out to play. Once again, I felt I'd found my fit.
New feats of strength were endured and conquered.
Please note that this enormous glass of beer was shared by many players. Mike did not drink this alone. We are no longer young and foolish. Just foolish.
We ate late night Korean BBQ with the ever present soju.
There was American Idol, the old folks in Korea version.
No longer the Dancing Queen, young and sweet. But still fun!
There were a few hatchets buried, too.
Because who has the energy to keep up with old grudges or the breath to argue when you're busy blowing up condoms on your head?
Or kissing on your best mate?
Or drinking out of what is affectionately called the Sa, or death, Glass.
Again, lots of beer shared by many players. Still, I don't recommend you try this at home. Not without proper training.
It was a truly wonderful weekend, reminding me of what I love most about Korea.
Korea is where I found my tribe.
As most expats throughout time will tell you, we are a hodgepodge lot, full of heart and passion and depth.
And beer. Lots and lots of beer.
Coming home to my tribe brought me so much joy. Seeing these guys together again feels right. Very right. For the first time in years, it's right.
The best part is seeing my kids find their tribe here, too. They are making friends from all over the world, enriching their lives and broadening their views.
A simple trip to the neighborhood playground is like a UN convention.
South African, Canadian, British, Korean, Thai, French, German, Chinese, Argentinian, Russian, and American.
Each discovering the world and each other while making lifelong connections in this crazy place called Itaewon.
