I pushed a grocery cart, and behind me three little girls followed close by, each pushing a customer in training cart. We were the perfect display of a mother duck being followed by her little ducklings. We got smiles, waves, and many comments, “Looks like you got some little helpers with you today!” “How adorable!” On that trip, disability was inconsequential to our adoring audience.

Two of my daughters have obvious disabilities. My middle daughter has cerebral palsy, making it hard and clumsy for her to walk pushing a little cart. My youngest has Down syndrome, and what can I say, she’s a cute little rascal, but you can tell by looking at her face that she makes an extra chromosome look good.

But there we were, pushing our carts. Our little family parade. And don’t get me wrong, because grocery shopping with three girls is not one of my developed skills, nonetheless, I know we did more than shopping, we gifted plenty of smiles.

I was a frazzled mama trying to keep it together though.

“Nichole, watch where you are going!”

Thankfully we avoided all collisions, but we were close.

“Just a second girls, the walker just fell…again.”

I did my best to balance the walker on the bottom of the grocery cart.

When we arrived at the store, the girls went straight for the customer in training carts. My daughter with cerebral palsy wanted one too. I was not going to deprive her of the fun just because she needs a walker. It makes the trip more complicated, but it also makes her just one of the girls. The walker fell out more times than I wanted to reposition it. It got to be a frustration, but we just kept moving along. Nobody gets left out.

By the time we were half way done, my youngest was done pushing her cart and ready to ride in mine. I left her little cart in the middle of an aisle and let one of the workers know.

We checked out and Nina got her walker back, thank goodness! As we walked out of the store and headed to the car, a lady followed us.

“Excuse me.” She said, “I wanted to give you this.”

She handed me a grocery bag. “It’s for your girls. A thank you for making my day.”

I looked inside the bag and there was a bag a puffed corn. A bag Nichole had wanted to get and I’d said no to.

“Thank you!” I said.

“No, thank you.”

As we drove home I thought about our grocery store adventure. My little ducklings, and me, the frazzled mama. Disability was not invisible, but it wasn’t scary, and it wasn’t bad, and it wasn’t something to look away from. Disability was just a part of life. A mother shopping with her three girls. Disability was normal, because disability is part of life.

And every day we do this, as we do life, we show the world that disability is just a part of life. Disability happens. We balance the walker and sometimes it falls, perhaps more than we want it to, but we pick it up and keep on moving. And we can see people smile and recognize the pleasures of being a family, just a family, like everyone else. And sometimes, this is what it means to live life with disability.