Special needs celebrations are still celebrations …

“Mom, no! Too loud. I don’t like it!”

I’m standing on the sidewalk outside our house with Polly, my seven-year-old daughter with Down syndrome.

It’s the 4th of July, and our neighbors are shooting off fireworks.

“Come on, Polly! It will be fun! Let’s just look. We won’t go close.”

“No Mom! I don’t like it!” Polly crouches down to the ground and curls up in a ball. Her pudgy hands cover her ears. Her eyes close tight.”

“Ok honey, OK. Let’s go in. You don’t have to see the fireworks.”

Sighing, I sneak a peek at the neighbors gathered in the alley, oohing and ahhing over the snap, crackle and pop erupting on the pavement.

This is one of those times as a parent to children with special needs that I feel cheated.

I love fireworks, and before my two children with Down syndrome came into the picture, one biologically, and one through international adoption, our family used to trudge off to the park or to the beach to enjoy spectacular shows that lit up the sky.

But now, we stay home.

The booms are too loud, and Evangeline, Polly’s younger sister by six months loves to eat sand and dirt and leaves, making outdoor outings where we sit on the ground a challenge. Some years my older girls who are typically developing go with one of us to watch fireworks, other years, like this year, they spend the holiday with their Grandparents and Aunt and Uncle.

I’m at a special needs parenting crossroads.

I can either get bummed out that we can’t enjoy fireworks as a family this year …

Or I can look at the day for what it is, and for what it was … and see the celebration in that.

Sure, we aren’t at fireworks tonight, but this morning my husband and I took Polly and Evie on an adventure. We found a new park, and the girls had fun swinging and sliding and exploring some place different then our usual digs.

We went out to lunch. Evie had mashed potatoes, meat, and gravy. This is a big deal. There was a time when she wouldn’t eat anything except yogurt and baby cereal. Polly sat up at the table and devoured her grilled cheese and french fries. She told our server jokes, and flirted with people walking by.

My husband and I both enjoyed our meals, and our kids, and our day.

You know what, we celebrate differently now, but special needs celebrations are still celebrations.

And I am thankful.