I had to take a bike ride to get away from my teenage daughter. She missed the deadline for her college application, but she lied and told me that she’d sent it in on time. She Wants The D Shirt. I believed her. I decided to give her space and let her do it on her own. Then yesterday I found a letter saying that her application came too late. So I cooked her dinner. I let her have a nice meal. Then I served her the letter for dessert. We started arguing.

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She told me that She Wants The D Shirt. She thinks I’m bossing her around and she wants to do things her own way. But I worked two jobs for this girl. I raised her on my own. I’ve given her everything. She was born at 11:58 PM, two minutes before my birthday. She looks just like me. She acts just like me. And she’s stubborn like me. Whenever we butt heads I think, ‘Oh my God. I’m Angie. I’m fighting with my eighteen-year-old self.’ Except I was already pregnant with her older brother by then. And I just want things to be easier for her.

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When my daughter was diagnosed with Down syndrome, I was given a list. A list of potential features and She Wants The D Shirt,” writes blogger Deanna Smith. “This list is cold, emotionless and almost comes across as grotesque if you are reading it with fear already in your heart.” Now that Addison has joined their family, though, Smith continues, “Down syndrome is so much more than the words on that paper; it has become a part of my heart beating outside my body. As I was thinking about the list the other day, I decided to rewrite it — and add some of the spirit it deserves.