I have a huge head. Not as a result of an overactive ego,
just a physically large head. Seems ironic and cruel that I love hats so much;
I seem to be on a never ending quest to find a cute, stylish ladies’ hat that
actually fits my head. Perhaps this is why I tend to take on so many projects:
I want to figuratively “wear many hats”. My list of
commitments seems overwhelming to most: stay-at-home-mom to three kids
(although, we’re never actually at home), PTO Co-President, leadership
representative with a direct sales company, board member, committee member,
volunteer, fundraiser. I imagine each one of these as a different hat; some are
bright with big feathers, others are more subdued. Perhaps my hardest earned
hat is that of “advocate”; my oldest son has Down syndrome. This hat goes from
conservative and understated to colorful and wild, depending on the day.

I advocate for my son so many levels. I work with his school
to ensure he receives the proper education in an inclusive setting. I oversee his
community activities to make sure he is treated as all the other children are
treated. I watch him like a hawk on the playground or even in our neighborhood
to make sure the other kids are including him in their games. As he gets older,
I know it won’t get any easier; my advocacy efforts will focus on workplace
equality, or making sure there is a place for him in continuing education
opportunities. Sometimes I do these things gracefully and with a calm demeanor,
while other times I am “that mom” who ends up taking out all the day’s
frustrations on whatever issue is closest at hand with the awkward gusto of an
irritated elephant. Either way, I get my point across…eventually. I like to
consider myself a “pick your battles” kind of girl, but when it comes to
advocating for my son, I will get my way. Patience is a good byproduct of
advocacy, but not an easy learned lesson. For every “no” I hear, I have to
revamp my argument and efforts until that “no” becomes a “yes”. It can be
exhausting. I will do it, every time, if I truly believe that whatever it is I
am fighting for will help Alex in any way. Small change or huge impact, I will
do it.

I imagine my advocacy “hat” to be slightly tattered, and not
as fancy as my other “hats”, but it is by far my favorite. I wear it proudly,
and every time I see my son’s smile or hear his laugh, it mends itself and
gives me strength to take on my next battle. And battle I will; you can bet
your hat on it.