When I decide to have a blog on my own, I am so excited to share with u guys so many things that I love to do during my leisure times. The only things I don’t know which one will interest you more. However, after a week of thinking this morning I’ve decided to share one the topics that I like and I believe its really close to me at the moment Known as AMAZING coz I’ve done the most amazing thing in my life lately. I truly believe that I’ve already missed the opportunity to do that previously and now its the time. Just like people say….Better late than never
Considering of that, I am so delighted to share all those kind of amazing things that I’ve encountered through my reading and my life experience. As we are having 365 days and 52 weeks in a year I’ve planned to bring you dear friend into different themes of amazing stories each week and really hope that you will enjoy my blog and be my loyal friends from today onwards.
The first theme will be inspiring stories coz I would like to be just like they are…..
So this is my first story for the week that I want to share with you called Standing Tall
I was grocery shopping recently in my hometown of Canandaigua, N.Y., when I heard a young voice boom from across the aisle. “Mom, come here, you’ve gotta see this! There’s this lady here my size!”
The mortified mother rushed to a boy she called Mikey, who looked to be about seven; then she turned to me to apologize. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
I smiled and told her, “It’s okay.” Then I looked at her wide-eyed son and said, “Hi, Mikey, I’m Darryl Kramer. How are you?”
He studied me from head to toe, and asked, “Are you a little mommy?”
“Yes, I have a son,” I answered.
“Why are you so little?” he asked.
“It’s the way God made me,” I said. “Some people are little. Some are tall. I’m just not going to grow any bigger.” After about five more minutes of answering questions — “How do you drive a car? Where do you work? Do you ride a bike?” — I shook Mikey’s hand, and he returned to his mother.My life as a little person is filled with stories like that. I enjoy talking to children and explaining why I look different from their parents. It has taken many years of developing my confidence to be able to do that.
It takes only one glance to see my uniqueness. I stand three feet, nine inches tall. I am an achondroplasia dwarf, which is a person having very short limbs. My eight-year-old son, Jimmy, is average height, as is my husband, George. Like most achondroplasia dwarfs, I have two average-height parents, as well as an average-height brother. When I was born, my mother was told in the hospital that I was a dwarf. Not knowing a lot about dwarfism, my mom’s main concern was my health. Our family doctor put her mind at ease when he told her he felt I would not have any major medical concerns. He was right.
When I was growing up, my parents encouraged me to do all the things the kids around me did. So when my neighbors got two-wheel bikes, I got a two-wheel bike. When they roller-skated, I roller-skated. Our neighbors looked out for me and treated me as a normal person. One built a tree house with the steps leading to it close together. When his dad asked him why, he said, “Because Darryl’s got to get up here.”
I didn’t realize how short I was until I started school. There, a few kids picked on me, calling me names. Then I knew. After that, I began to hate the first day of school each year. I didn’t know who was new and would gape as I struggled to climb the school bus stairs. Some of the kids would point and say, “Look at that kid. Look at her.” Boys could be especially mean. One once put me against a wall in the gym and shouted, “You’re a midget. Do you know that? Why are you like that?”
As time went on, I just tried to smile and accept the fact that I was going to be noticed my whole life. I was determined to make my uniqueness an advantage rather than a disadvantage. My friends became increasingly protective. They’d help me up the bus steps. If people were cruel, they would take them aside and correct them.
What I lacked in height, I made up for in personality — my ability to laugh, even at myself. For example, one time I was reaching into the washing machine at my parents’ house to grab the wet clothes. I fell all the way in and yelled for Mother, who was sitting nearby reading the paper. Watching feet flying everywhere, she chuckled and said, “I should leave you in there.” I laughed with her.
I’m 47 now, and the stares have not diminished as I’ve grown older. People ask my friends if I live in a dollhouse. They look in disbelief when they see me get out of my car on the driver’s side. During those times, I try to keep a good attitude. When people are rude, I remind myself, “Look what else I have — a great family, nice friends.”
And it’s the children’s questions that make my life special. “Why are you so short? How old are you? Are you a mommy?” When I talk with children, they leave content that their questions have been answered. My hope is that in taking time with them, I will encourage them to accept their peers, whatever size and shape they come in, and treat them with respect.
I have a wonderful, loving husband and a happy, healthy son. But even with all the support, I’m still occasionally afraid. Last year I met a short-statured mother with an average-height teenage son. He had run away from home because he couldn’t take the teasing he endured at school. I began to worry the same thing might happen with Jimmy. A few months later, a little girl in Jimmy’s class began teasing him about having a short mom. She finally asked, “Why is your mom so short?”
Without pausing, he replied, “Because God made her that way. She doesn’t have to reach over to pick up the laundry like your mom does.