The Story of Our Family

That discipline thing...

2012-02-03T09:16:00.001-08:00

So one of the things we need to worry about in MAPP class is discipline. Honestly this is an awesome subject to cover, for a variety of reasons. People all have different thoughts on discipline, whether it's things that have worked with their own kids, things that they've seen others do that they think worked, they way they were disciplined, etc. One of the things we'll have to do is sign a form stating all of the things we WON'T do with a foster child in terms of discipline, but given how they know who they're working with the class first went into how to discipline and what forms worked properly.

While part of me wanted to scream "we know this already," I kept it down and decided to take everything they say to heart. I mean, these are professionals and they do truly know a lot more than me. They've seen a lot, heard a lot, and experienced a lot and when they say "this works, this doesn't, don't do this" etc, I'll believe them.

So of course this brings me to my own methods of discipline... and what we already do that we would not be allowed to do should we be licensed.

It's not hard, but there are things that will need to change. Number one is spanking. It's extremely, extremely rare that I use spanking but with P I found it to be helpful in some rare but extreme circumstances. When he is physically and emotionally at the end of this rope and he goes into a panic attack/meltdown/rage, he can sometimes become physical. A few times he's bitten me. One pop to the bum stopped it. This will be a no-no, and honestly? That's how it should be. I'm not anti-spanking, when used in the right situation, but I'm rather anti-me-spanking and every time I've resorted to it I've felt like Hell for days.

So I spent a good portion of the past couple days brainstorming, analyzing the situations we've been in that have lead to this outcome and what *I* could do differently, not just in response to him melting down but to keep it from happening in the first place. I already know a lot about P. He is moderately sensitive to physical discomfort like lack of sleep and hunger, he has a couple of known PTSD triggers, he's a sensory seeker who can get out of whack if his schedule is off, etc. Stuff we generally have under control through normal schedules, and honestly at this point we can alter his schedule considerably and frequently typically without issue (though he still does best with predictability). So what lead to those meltdowns? I thought and thought and figured those out and realized we'd been neglecting his needs at that time. It's not hard to be lulled into a false sense of security with him, he's really easy going and fun for the most part and you can often forget that his schedule helps him so much. Both times he's melted down badly in recent memory he had been off schedule for awhile, several days the first time, then several WEEKS the second time. So we're getting better in that department!

But what did *I* do that was wrong? What could *I* do differently once he started to meltdown and simply bringing him a glass of chamomile tea and reading a book wouldn't fix? What was *my* part in this and how could I change it? And, if possible, could I change it with my words?

I thought and thought and re-enacted in my head, comparing the two scenarios. What was the same? Did I do anything the same each time that lead to this? What could I be doing?

And then, it hit me. Of course!

Both times he got to the point of becoming physical with me I was trying to move him to a quiet space. It made sense to me at the time, and it's something we do normally if he starts to act up. We move him to his room or any other quiet space so we can sit and talk and he can diffuse. But both of these times he was refusing to go and I. was. forcing. him. I wasn't throwing him over my shoulder or anything, but I would hold his hand or try to lead him by putting my hand on his back. I was touching him before he touched me. I am the one who made it physical.

Hit my like a ton of bricks, it did.

So, uh, my kid is very convenient. Have I mentioned this before? It's like we can read each other's thoughts sometimes I swear. People joke with me about how I went to the other side of the world to get a child and came back with the male Ethiopian version of myself. Anyway, though...

So yesterday P conveniently started to meltdown. Our schedule has been off due to MAPP twice a week and Nik being out to work late on those other weekdays, for a few weeks now. No more "dinner on the table at 6:30 with daddy walking through the door" scenario, now we're eating by ourselves or going to a restaurant, and falling asleep without cuddles as the lone parent/babysitter has to tend to the toddler. He's been open about how it upsets him a little and we're trying to make up for it, but there's only so much we can do, you know?

Yesterday he started to be angry. I asked him, and Ambrose as well, to go to their rooms. I will sit in the hall with their doors open and talk to them both, but sometimes we all need a few minutes of physical separation from each other to calm down, followed by long hugs. Usually works like a charm. Not yesterday, though!

I managed to get A to his room, where he put on a firefighter hat, plopped down on his stool, and sat their looking at a "Wonders of the World" book and counting down for the Taj Mahal so it could blast off. P, on the other hand, grabbed my wrist and squeezed tight, squishing his face up so angry and nasty, started to growl and grunt, and well... yeah, total transformation from my normal sweet little boy.

I was about to pull him into his room and then... I remembered. I remembered what I'd learned in the past day. And I used that.

I knelt down, though P wouldn't look me in the eye. I sat for a minute and, sure enough, he didn't move to hurt me, just held onto my wrist growling, ready for a fight, ready to lose control.

"Paxton," I said, "you're a good boy."

His grip weakened and his eyes shot to mine, looking surprised.

"You're a good boy and you like to make people happy. You have a good heart. You like to make me happy and you like to be happy too. This isn't making me happy and it isn't making you happy. Let's find a way to fix this together."

And my sweet boy... His face just crumpled. His eyes teared up. And he let go of my wrist and fell into my arms, crying.

We talked, oh how we talked. He's so, so stressed. His teacher tells him his class is the best in the school, and he knows he's a top student in his class, if not the top student, and given how logical my child is he of course knows that this means he's the top student of the school. He's barely six. He's in Kindergarten. He's proud and I want him to be proud, but oh my the stress that comes with this.

"Mom, mom, it's so hard! I'm the best kid in my school! I read so well! I have to be good every. single. day. and I can't be bad. I need to have a green or a purple day so I can't have warnings. I can't be mean to people if they're mean to me and I have to sit and do my work and I have to do it right and I have to do it in time. And today we didn't have story time and I was working so hard and my head hurt because I was working so hard and I just wanted a story but they just made me do more work! And I have to do it all because I'm the best kid in my school and it makes people happy!"

Oh my, my sweet boy, he is taking on so much. So much. I often talk about how big he is, being 4 feet and wearing size 2 shoes, but really he's still so little and his heart was so heavy. He doesn't want to let anyone down, ever. I'm okay of course because he knows I won't give up on him, but everyone else? He needs to work daily so they won't be disappointed in him.

And so I held him and I talked to him and soon he was laughing and smiling and we packed up his silly homework (the instigator for his frustration) and had fun instead. A huge weight was off his shoulders, you could tell.

The best part? Daddy's deadline at work is over and he left work early to spend extra time with his boys. Oh, the smile on P's face! Just sitting and eating dinner together and talking... Yeah, I had missed it too!

I think I'm going to draw up a contract for myself, same as the one our county asks for when it comes to foster care, and just write down all the things I won't do. I should probably write down a set "normal discipline for X behavior" list as well. Usually talking it out, apologizing, verbally reminding which behavior we use, taking a few moments in a room to calm down, etc works just fine but we should probably have some set rules anyway.

So yeah, my heart is heavy with a lot of looking back and saying "we should've done X during that situation" or "I wish we would've known Y", but you know what? They're things to learn from and built on or change, and I can't go back and change that. I can only change what happens now and down the road. And so that's where we'll focus.

*****

I should also mention that we're looking into fostering an animal. Figure it would be good all around, get an animal out of a shelter for a bit, give them a chance at finding a home, and teach our whole family what it's like to love and let go. Preferably an animal with a family already who just can't take them yet for some reason.... Also it'll throw a wrench into our schedule, and I could probably use that jolt of reality right there :)

Going and going

2012-02-01T11:26:00.000-08:00

We're in full swing with our foster care class. So far it hasn't scared us away. Just the opposite, in fact! I think we're even more committed to this now than we were before, now that we have a better understanding of the needs and our resources and responsibilities. Yes, there's still a lot to talk about and a lot to prepare for, but we're excited. Excited to maybe meet our future child/ren, yes certainly, but also excited to help out and do our part to help children who will not remain with us.

Our last class shocked me. No details, of course, but essentially we learned a bit of what an extreme case would be as opposed to a typical case of what you'd normally get in foster care. Why was I shocked? Well, because my older son would most certainly fall under "extreme" case. Seriously, I thought behaviors like those we'd dealt with would be mild, or even the norm, in foster care and assumed that those I've known who had fostered just got lucky. I spent a while after class speaking with the teacher, giving her info on P and what he'd been through and how he behaved and learned that yes, indeed, this was an extreme case compared to what we can expect.

Honestly, yeah, shocked.

P is extreme? I could have told you that, haha! But as far as we've come? Where we are now? Dude, this kid is a dream. come. true. We actually sort of fight over who gets to go with him when we split the boys up for awhile to do different activities. He's so easy! So relaxed! So fun! Yes, we need to keep an eye on his emotions and yes we need to avoid certain things and yes he can be pretty emotional sometimes, but seriously, 99% of the time he's like a dream child.

Even looking back on how far we've come with him... it's a long way. And we know what we're doing now, we know what resources are available, we are calmer and stronger and happier and more sure in our actions.

So if P is extreme... yeesh, they could throw just about anything our way in that case! :-P

Though seriously, we do need to sit down and decide what would work for our family.

The safety and security of P and A is paramount in this decision, and when I think of that my head is full of "I'd rather__ than__". I'd rather have an infant with FAS than a five year old who acts out sexually toward smaller children. I'd rather have a teenager who spends all day giving attitude but generally listens than a three year old who constantly bites other kids. I'd rather have any sort of placement that does not put my children at risk than any sort of placement that does.

But then, there are so many other factors.

Should we accept children older than P?

Should we accept children with issues we don't think we could handle long term when there's a possibility of the case going to adoption?

Should we accept children who require care all day and night to keep their moods in check, thus taking most of our attention away from our two kids?

Should we accept sibling groups when they might create an "us vs. them" atmosphere?

What would fit? How can we help out and give aid where it's needed and still protect our family? Can we ever truly know what sort of situation would actually fit our family without being there? Can we really make all these grand choices when it's still going to come down to a sudden phone call with scant information?

When thinking about this, my head goes into a tizzy. So much to know, so many factors, so much to think about...

And yet... one thing is certain.

If we had known, with P's adoption, exactly what we were getting into... what behaviors, what treatment, how long it would take, how exhausting it could be, how this was a lifelong commitment to making a child well again....

If we had known, I don't think we would have done it. I think we would have backed away.

And we would be the ones who lost out.

We would be the ones who didn't get to see his first shy smiles, hear his soft breathy laugh, hold his body as it fights us and then relaxes, giving in, accepting that we really mean it when we say we're here for him and we'll help him. We would be the ones who didn't get to hear him finally start singing, see him start dancing, watch him learn to love books, sit with him during his favorite movies. We would be the ones missing out on the little notes he writes, the truly heartfelt conversations we have, the constant hugs, the sweet smiles, the big bright eyes greeting us whenever we say hello. We would be the ones who missed out.

Do I really want to have to choose who comes to live with us?

Do I really want to think, at the end of the day, that it's really up to me?

So much to think about... so much to prepare....

And tonight we'll be halfway through classes...

Guess I'd better work on that autobiography :)

You know you're a total sap when...

2012-01-27T18:34:00.000-08:00

...The Target beside your house is closing and you are actually, truly sad about it.

No, not crying sad, just "had to go there the past couple days" sad.

Sure, I got a couple good deals on things I did actually want (some nice new shirts for the kids, sunglasses, a wallet, a couple other things as well), but really I just wanted to be at this store.

I used to go to this Target years ago with my parents, right after we first moved down from Maine. I was a teen and still adjusting to the area, but I remember being in their Christmas section and hearing the jokes about how it was called tar-jhay by some (mythical?) folks.

Throughout the years I remember clearance sales and last minute holiday gifts. It was my go-to place Christmas Eve when we got word of another cousin coming to dinner or remembered that we'd left someone off the list. I used to troll their holiday section after each holiday for good deals and cheap candy, or sit in their patio furniture and dream about one day owning a patio to furnish. I spent the scant money I earned as a teen on clothes there, since it was too expensive at the mall. We got gift certificates to Target with both kids, and for random holidays and birthdays. We did our baby registry for Paxton there, explaining to the woman that we didn't have an actual due date, nor would he be a baby, but we wanted to go through this process. I had been eying a certain baby blanket for months and when I got to add it to the registry I though my heart would burst. We got two of them at the shower.

As I walked through the store today with Ambrose, two memories hung on clearly.

One was the day we were matched with Ambrose's first mom, R. We'd gotten the call that morning and were told we had to be at lunch with her and a case worker the next day at noon, three hours away. I looked through my closet and freaked that I didn't have anything nice to wear. My mother came over to watch P and I had a rare hour to myself to run off to Target and try on clothes, trying to find something that was nice and clean but not dressy. I ended up picking khaki pants and a grey t-shirt, both clean and well cut but definitely stay-at-home-mom attire. Sort of a more put together version of myself that I'm still trying to replicate. While there, I mentioned to the man watching the dressing rooms what I was doing this for. I was so excited, I had to tell someone! He informed me that he himself had been adopted, in a closed adoption, and he had no information his birth parents and had been searching a long time. He was very happy I was meeting her, and I almost broke down in tears at his story. I made sure to take pictures, write down seemingly insignificant details, and learn as much as was allowed. Every time I write her a letter and send pictures I think of him and his birthparents, who never received pictures of him. I had always hoped to run into him again with Ambrose, as I'd sometimes see him working at the store when I was there by myself. Today I realized that will never happen. My heart was heavy then...

The second memory was far less significant, but still...

Two years ago there was a snowstorm. We were stuck at home but going stir crazy, and while we didn't want to risk going far we decided that driving someplace close on empty roads, very slowly, would be fine. So we packed up a totally bundled infant and a bouncing-off-the-walls four year old and drove to Target. The place was empty of people but full of lights and toys and lots of space to run. Ambrose had fallen asleep in his car seat, a very rare occasion, and so I just meandered with him, happy to stretch my legs and be out of the house, as Nik and Paxton found a bouncy ball and ran up and down the halls together laughing. It was almost surreal, the place to ourselves... it may be a huge, evil empire-esque giant of a company but that store itself... we felt comfortable there.

There are so many other, tinier memories of that store; picking out presents with Paxton for his brother or friends, shyly buying a multi-pack of OPKs and HPTs when we decided to sort of kind of maybe not not try again, picking up a million last minute snacks on the way to someplace else, picking out our silverware and bed set for our new home and feeling so grown up and in charge, several trips to buy things off of other people's baby registries as I try to keep up hope that I'll get the chance some day and stop my own petty and jealous feelings, and then being so happy to finally be able to buy diapers and baby wash and just baby things in general once my own turn came along.

It's dumb, right?

It's a chain store, one who gives money to causes I don't support.

It's workers who come and go, products that are mass produced and often over priced, cheap junk my kids beg for, and too much packaging.

It's a big box store, a huge building, when my own personal beliefs call for me to be buying smaller and simpler and more consciously.

It's just... a store. Full of faces I don't know and things I'll rarely buy.

But it's also a place. A familiar place. Like a park or a library, just less poetic.

I have been there a million times for totally random tasks and yet some of them stick out in my mind so vividly as I walk down those halls and realize that I'll never walk down them again.

Me as a young teen, me with my self earned money, me in college, me getting married, me setting up house, me preparing for a child, me caring for an infant, me being all grown up and living a totally different life from when I first walked through those very same doors.

I guess in a way it's only normal that I would feel this way. Sixteen years of growth might do that to a person, especially when so many key life points have been linked to this one location, a location I took totally for granted until I saw the bare shelves and read the signs.

So goodbye, nearby Target. I know there are still two more locations within close distance. I know this store will probably be turned into something else that I may very well frequent. But for the moment I will mourn you and your familiarity and all of the things you remind me of, all of the growth captured within your walls.

It's been great. Thanks for all the memories.

Also, thank you for taking back those two sound machines a few years back when we didn't even have receipts. That was awesome of you.

Me and my ole Camry...

2012-01-21T11:50:00.001-08:00

It's a birthday party weekend. Tomorrow P gets to go to the bday party of one of his best buddies, who is also a school mate and neighbor. We love her and her family and we're all looking forward to it, even if P did pick a rather weird gift (Bananagrams for a 6 year old girl on her birthday? Hehe :) ). Today there was a bday party for A's friend, a sweet little toddler we know through preschool.

I have to say, it was a bit of a new experience at first!

I had dressed myself and A in our normal attire. Well, okay, I refused to let A wear his "Birthday Boy" shirt, which he's worn at least once a week since October. He chose his Angry Birds shirt as a nice back up, with some old but not busted jeans and his light up Spider Man shoes. Me? Eh, SAHM attire I guess. A tanktop, some grey sweats, black Sketchers and a brown fleece jacket over top since it's kind of drizzly and chilly. I hadn't been able to take a shower yesterday nor this morning so my hair was a little greasy, but I gave it a good brush and figured I'd get a pass since, eh, it's a group of parents with small children.

So yeah, we followed the directions and drove out to their house and I swear, as I was driving the houses kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger. And pretty ornate as well, not like my 30 year old, slapped together, just-outside-downtown house. I began to feel a little... inadequate.

We had some trouble with the directions, but finally found their cul-de-sac, which lead to a very long driveway (roughly 1K feet I'd guess). I parked near the other cars, as more arrived behind me. Here I was in my small, needs-a-wash, side of rearview mirror cracked, 12 year old blue Camry and all around me were sparkly clean white and black SUVs. I watched a couple of the other families get out of their cars. Tall, thin, well dressed and perfectly coifed people with gorgeous handbags and children in cute and somewhat dressy clothes. I grabbed Ambrose's little bright green froggy bag (I had shoved his diapers and extra clothes in, along with my wallet and phone), and pulled him out from the car.

Once I'd cleaned off all of the bits of torn tissue from him (where did he find that? Was it used???), and attempted to smooth down my hair, we walked up to the house. To say it is much larger and more spacious than ours is an understatement! I was looking at the other moms, the other kids, the house, and realizing what sort of world I was in... and suddenly my mind flashed back to when this family had come to A's birthday party last fall and how the mom had sat on my permanently not-quite-clean carpet in a messy living/dining room, squished in with other people, with all that mismatched furniture and the old windows with the cracking frames and our old popcorn ceilings with paint smears here and there from where I messed up and... yeah....

I felt so completely and utterly out of place.

And as much I love this family and the child whose birthday it was, I wanted to get out of there.

I don't belong here, they'll judge me! was running through my mind. Perhaps it would be better to just meet up at preschool where we're on equal ground.

But... that's ridiculous.

I'm an adult, they're adults, and there's nothing for me to be ashamed about here.

So we went in, and I socialized, and so did A, and I caught myself being nervous a couple of times at first and literally held my own hand to stop a nervous habit. I talked to people, chatted, and had a great time as did the kids. And I felt just as truly included as everyone else. It was nice to get to chat with the mom of this family for awhile, as well as other people I was meeting for the first time. A had a blast with his friends, both old and new, and we were the last ones to leave with A and the birthday boy running around outside together for a bit while I got to talk to the mom (who is so sweet!). It was truly a fun morning.

I came home and, after handing off A, I took my much needed shower. Oh, did it feel nice! As I was washing my hair I found myself in an internal debate. It was after 1pm, everyone else had ended up eating lunch but I'd only had a couple of crackers with cheese. Should I try to eat some lunch? Or just have a snack since I wasn't all that hungry and then eat dinner a bit early? Just a salad now with something light this evening? Or a piece of fruit and then maybe go out to dinner later? As I weighed the pros and cons and thought about how to plan the rest of the day, it suddenly struck me. Images of the children we're sponsoring, images of the people we'd met in Ethiopia, images of starving people from all over the world, including our own country. "Should I eat more of my clean/fresh/nutritious food, that I can easily afford, now, or just a little now and more later?" How many people would literally give anything to be able to have that choice? To have what I have? How many people would kill for a roof over their heads, water at the tap (enough to waste on a hot shower!), food in so many varieties and quantities, a working car, a living and healthy family, an able body, a strong support system, an education, a safe place to live, so, so, so much...

It was as if from the back of my brain a voice was screaming, "don't you dare pity yourself, don't you dare think of yourself as poor, look around and see your bounty for you are truly RICH!" and it's so true, so true...

So today, as I sit in my warm, dry house at my working computer with my loving, intact family asleep upstairs taking peaceful naps in their own beds, in their own rooms, I give great thanks for the many and numerous blessings around my and throughout my life.

For good friends, from all walks of life, for the yummy left over cake from last night, for little boys giving great big hugs, for super comfortable grey sweats (seriously, my lower half is in heaven over here), for the promise that this life will continue and that instead of worrying about the next paycheck or the next time we'll eat or the next time we could afford a doctor's visit, our only worry today is whether to eat in our out for dinner.

I am so, so lucky...

PTA

2012-01-18T11:42:00.000-08:00

Sooo, I'm not chair of the Hospitality committee on our new PTA. Like, seriously new. P's school? Yeah, it's not a new school, but it was turned into a Magnet school recently (this is the second year) focusing on Engineering. Also, 80% of the staff at the school is new, including the principal. The PTA was discontinued a few years back after it whittled down to almost no one helping out. But the school is getting in more applications than expected, has received grants this past year, and has so far been wonderful for P. In fact, everytime I'm at the school I'm greeted by happy kids, cheerful educators and staff, bright colors and tons of pictures, and a whole ton of diversity, in fact probably the most diverse school I've seen. I don't even think there's a majority race, though I'd have to check the numbers!

Anyway, I think I'm finally settling on a New Years Resolution, and that's that I want to stop admiring people without emulating them. It always bothers me when people go on and on about how great adoption is and how they wish they could do it, but can't even come up with a good excuse why not. Well, this year I'm going to try to stop doing that myself for other things.

We finally got our act together and started to sponsor two preteen boys overseas to send them to school We're paying less than $50/month, about what it costs to fill one of our tanks of gas for a week, to help support not only these boys but their whole families as this not only covers school, but for one child it covers medical, and for both it covers economic counseling to help the family get on their feet within the next 3 years. All for the cost of a sushi date night for us that we'll probably forget about the next day. Yeah, stop admiring, just do it.

We're starting MAPP classes tonight. We're so confused about this, so up in the air. We like the semi-guarantee of adoption and infertility treatments, and yet... and yet we admire foster parents. We admire those who foster to adopt, as well as those who just outright foster. Stop admiring, just do it.

Last night at the PTA meeting they were going over the committees, their plans for this year, what they'd need people to do, and I found myself already envisioning arguments with the chair of the committee I'd offered to help on over a few issues. And I don't argue well. So I said I'd just go ahead and be the chair myself. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I only have like 5 months of school left and there aren't any big expectations right now. And really... I need to stop waiting for someone else to step up. For someone else to be in charge that I can try to influence or aid. For someone else to do the work while I play on FaceBook. So I stopped admiring all those who'd already chosen to be a leader in the PTA and I raised my hand and said, "I'll do it," and I have to admit I was (am) petrified but I'm also excited. I'm... exhilarated. I feel good.

So this coming year looks like it will be fruitful, and crazy, and all over the place. So many projects to do at home and at the schools, so much to work on, so much to learn, so much to DO!

Oh, and Nik's finally convinced that we should go to Disney World. I did always admire those families who found the time/money to get away and make great memories with their kids.... :-P Hehe, I've been begging for years!

Here's to a great 2012, for ALL of us!

Buffer

2012-01-12T17:31:00.000-08:00

I've gone to a couple of infertility support groups now and, well, it's actually gone a lot better than I was thinking it would. For some reason after all the IF blogs I've read and all the IF forums I've lurked on I was worried I'd get into sort of a forum-made-real-life, a room full of angry, angsting, ready to choke someone women.

And instead I've found very sweet, honest, open, and supportive women, and partners even.

It's not at all what I was expecting, and I have to say that I'm beyond pleasantly surprised. No one spewing hatred for the pregnant women on the street? No drama or arguments over correct terminology or courses of action? Just a group of people laughing, sharing, learning, and openly offering support to all those around them even if they don't know their names? Dude, it's not at all like the forums! It's like, well, like a support group. And since I've never actually been to a support group that I can recall I suppose it really is a totally new experience for me.

And it has me thinking a bit more, about us, our family, our journey, our infertility, our options, our future, etc. Hearing people be so blunt, so honest, about their thoughts and their journeys makes me realize I should be more honest to myself.

I think I've learned something about myself this week...

I think I'm in denial.

Heck, I think N and I both are.

And, well, I think we're sort of using adoption as a buffer... which sounds horrible.

Okay, hear (read?) me out:

We've always, ALWAYS, planned on adopting. Always. This was just as much a part of the plan as conceiving and giving birth, and while we tried to conceive first that had nothing to do with a preference for a biological child over a child through adoption, and everything to do with a "proper order" of things and an ease into parenthood. One costs a lot of money, takes a ton of paperwork, meetings, and checks, and brings in issues of attachment, social isolation from other new parents, and the need to seek out additional information constantly in order to correctly help your child grow, adjust, and develop a positive identity. The other requires that you make love to your spouse, as you typically do anyway, and then you most likely become pregnant, most likely carry to term, most likely deliver a healthy child, and most likely learn to parent in the same way that 99% of the population already has, with constant support and examples all around you. Which would you prefer to start out with if you had a choice for first time parenting?

Thing is, infertility threw a wrench into that decision making process for us, so it became two choices, both costing a lot, both invasive in different, and yet still uncomfortable, ways, both involving changing schedules and routines just to get started in hopes of something happening, both with the possibility of stretching on into infinity with ups and downs and failure as a distinct possibility. It's just that we'd always planned to adopt. We hadn't always planned, nor even considered, semenalysis and Lovenox and intra uterine inseminations and all that.

So we adopted a child, because we truly could not wrap our minds around fertility treatments and we figured it just, well, made sense. We were 21 and 23, we would have time to conceive, and hopefully we could take on this daunting process with a child or two at home.

We adopted P, and then we HAD to adopt A. We needed to give P a sibling who looked like him, who was also not biologically related. P is so sensitive to things... if he were the only non-blood related person in our family, and the only dark skinned person, this could profoundly affect him. It just made sense, and it worked so wonderfully for us. I could not ask for a better pair of children, they are truly my sons and so, so wonderful.

So this leads to now....

We've been wishy washy with what to do for #3, or even if there should be a #3. We have two healthy little boys who are smart and happy and growing so wonderfully. We're all sleeping through the night, usually, and each day brings us closer to things like potty training and increased independence. We can travel, we can go on dates and stay out late, we can be young and fun and enjoy ourselves. Do we really need to add another child?

And there's adoption. If we do want another, why not adopt again? There are so many potential options there, and wait times don't seem so bad when you have two little ones already.

There's embryo adoption. We could just adopt an embryo. Really, this does sound appealing.

And we could even just leave it to see what happens each month....

But then I start to think about it and... I'm not pulled as much to private adoption right now, and Nik isn't pulled at all. Foster to adoption we can see, sure, but private adoption just isn't calling to us.

And we did always want children both through birth and adoption, and now WOULD be the perfect time to try.

But, see, if we TRY to conceive and we're doing foster care, like actively try with meds and stuff, then we really do stand a high chance of becoming pregnant and if that happens then we might not be able to continue fostering or adopt our foster children.... so we shouldn't do it....

Or we should be happy where we are, so we shouldn't do it....

Or it would be unfair to our two children to actually TRY so hard to have a biological child, so we shouldn't do it....

Or having a biological child at all, who could be treated as "more than" by family, it could hurt our children so we shouldn't do it....

Or we'd become a cliche, a story that cousins and friends of friends pass on to others when they don't know the whole story, so we shouldn't do it...

Or... or....

Or I could just stop this, stop hiding behind adoption as an excuse, and be perfectly and totally and somewhat sorrowfully honest for a minute.

I hate being infertile.

I hate being incapable of conceiving a child with my husband in the same way that most others conceive children daily.

I hate that I have to look up clinic reviews and medication costs.

I hate that I have to choose between Disney or IVF.

I hate that I'm expected to chart my temperature every morning, and I hate that I can't bring myself to do it anymore.

I hate that I get bad conception advice from people I know and love, and I hate that I can't just be honest with them that I want them to stop as I don't want to offend them even when they inadvertently offend me.

I hate that I will never truly feel 100% included in a group of mothers, that I will always stand out at some point when the conversation shifts.

I hate the fear that I could end up with a biological child and suddenly my children will stand out even more and be excluded because of a younger sibling.

I hate the fact that I can't bring myself to call and make an appointment.

I hate the thought of giving myself meds every day, meds that might morph and destroy my body with no results to show for it.

I hate that every month I calculate my potential due date, and every month I cry a little when my period comes and I realize that another potential due date has passed us by and the child that I had begun to believe in and love never existed at all.

I hate that I sometimes feel bitter and excluded when I read about water births, belly bands, preggie pops, and prenatal yoga.

I hate the thought that I'll need to hire someone to watch my children so I can have blood drawn, take ultrasounds, and go to multiple consults and appointments with quite possibly nothing to show for it but a drained bank account and a bruised body.

I hate that I could go through years of work to become pregnant and lose the child, like so many have, and have to make the choice of whether to start the whole process again or give up after so much work.

I hate reading success stories because they make me feel bad for not even trying.

I hate the thought that if we did become pregnant I'd probably spend the whole nine months worrying nonstop that something dreadful would happen, never having that peaceful and serene pregnancy I'd always dreamed about anyway.

I hate that fertility treatments can lead to necessary inductions and c-sections.

I hate knowing that people think we've "come to terms with our infertility" because of adoption, as if the infertility was cured along with the childlessness.

I hate that we can't commit fully to adoption at this point, but can't commit to no more children or to biological children either, so we've ended up in a "fate will decide" situation by going with foster care, which is one of the most emotionally risky things we could possibly do.

I hate the costs of meds, ultrasounds, and consults, not to mention the big procedures.

I hate the wait times for everything.

I hate having to explain complicated decisions to people when it's so simple, really, to just tell them you're infertile and you adopted.

I hate shots, and blood draws, and doctors I don't know, and new clinics, and sterile air, and white gloves, and random beeping machines.

I hate thinking that I'd be disrupting Nik's work schedule, consistently to the point of threatening his employment, for something that I want more than him.

I hate thinking that Nik would be less involved in this than me.

I hate the thought that ten years from now we might have all our children in school and me working outside the home and the urge for a baby might be so strong and all consuming that we start the journey then, instead of now; I hate the thought that future me might hate present me for not taking the plunge earlier.

I hate thinking that the children will be upset if we try this... upset that we wanted a biological child so badly, and what it means about them... upset that we would spend so much money and time on this when we could be making wonderful memories.

I hate the thought of never carrying a child in my womb, and I think about it every day.

I hate that I'm petrified to do this.

I hate the thought that if we don't do this I'll regret it for the rest of my life.

...

Soo....

There's my thoughts for the week in a nutshell...

Funny boys

2012-01-11T11:08:00.001-08:00

They just keep growing and growing, don't they?

Paxton is totally, completely, definitively a different child than he was last summer.

While his logic is that of a small child, his words are far closer to those of an adult. He's verbose, that's for sure! You can have long, heavy, and complicated conversations with him. Sometimes he follows along and absorbs things shockingly fast. Other times...

"... well, some believe that Jesus is actually God as well."*

"Oh! Like how Anakin is also Darth Vader!"

Yeah, fun, make you spit out your water type conversations :-)

Also? Apparently vomit is typically orange and it's not scary or fun, just fascinating, to watch people throw up in class. And boogers taste like cheese. Yeah...

Yesterday my big boy totally got me.

"So P, how was your day?"
"... I... I'm sorry mom, I had a red day!"
"What? A red day? I... did your teacher try to call me?"
"Yes..."
"Let me see your folder, he would've written something in there"
(open his bookbag and take out his daily folder... and there's green colored in for his day)
"Oh, silly P! Haha, I guess it's so red it looks green!"
"Yeah..."
"Hmmm, what should we do about you having a day that was sooooo bad that you got the "good" color for the day?"
"Mom, stoppit! Stop laughing at me! I really had a red day!"
"What? Oh, honey, but it says--"
"I used the wrong color, okay? I was afraid you'd be mad at me so I colored it in green!"
"I... what? Honey, did you really do that?"
"...yes"
"But... you really had a red day?"
"Yeah."
"How? What happened?"
"I hit S...."
"You HIT your friend? You really hit S????"
"... HAHAHA! Got you mom!!!"
"..."
"I triiiiiicked you! I had a great day. And I ate ice cream with lunch!"
"..."
"Mom?"
"I am so calling your teacher about this."

So I didn't call his teacher, but the threat is there to never do that again and to be honest with me. This kid is petrified of me "telling on him" to his teacher if he misbehaves! Honestly, I have to admit, I was more impressed than anything with P's performance. Yeesh, what skill this child has! But one must use such gifts for good, neh? So no more lying to mom. Seriously, mom holds grudges :-P

And as for the little bean, it's somewhat bizarre the things I hear coming out of his mouth now. The full sentences, the inflections, the emotion.

If a song comes on the radio it's either, "Oo, I LIKE this!" or "I don't like that, change!"

When it's time to cross a road I often pick him up if he won't hold my hand. Now I get, "No, let me walk! I love to walk! Put me down!"

P couldn't put 2 words together until right around his 3rd birthday, and here I am with a 2 year old speaking sentences... it's certainly far easier and we stem off a lot of tantrums as he's able to communicate his desires and we can either meet those demands or communicate back, in words he understands, why we can't meet those needs. I mean, seriously, we can't go to the airport every time we leave the house and it's just killing this little guy, but at least we know what he wants and can let him know that we will go there again, just not at the moment.

In some ways, though, I think the cutest/most wonderful thing going on with them right now is watching the little one mimic his big brother. Crossing his arms and saying "hmph!" when he doesn't get his way, demanding to have the same foods and everything just the same, stealing his books and toys and tryign to read or play with them the same, and all of the cute mannerisms too. So sweet :)

The grow so fast, too fast, and it's... it's this bizarre, crazy, wonderful journey. I am so, so lucky to have these children. Too lucky. :-)

* I don't like to get into politics or religion, especially as I have friends/family that walk all different areas of these realms, but let's just say we fit right in at our Progressive Christian church, and we tilt a bit left :)

Getting Back Into It

2012-01-06T09:45:00.001-08:00

So towards the end of the year I kind of fall into the same ole trap that a lot of people do: I get swept away with Holidays and visits and parties and activities, both mine and the kids, and even when I'm not occupied with such things, I fall into the trap of just lazing about. It's a vacation time, you know? Who needs a clean house? Who needs to cook fresh meals? Who needs to work out? Who needs to run errands? Just focus on wrapping those gifts, baking those cookies, and taking long videos and loads of pictures to remember this Holiday season.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that. We all need a break sometimes, don't we?

But anyone who knows me knows that I'm a slacker, a ditz, a layabout :-P Really, there was a time years ago when I secretly hoped that I could be in some awful car accident that would ruin my spine so I could spend the rest of my life sitting down and having people wait on me. Seemed great. Lucky permanently injured people. I'm not so bad anymore, but I do sit on my bum and stare at a screen far more than I should, and I really can't pass up a good celebration. I don't typically drink at all, and if I do we're talking like one glass of wine with a long meal, but I looooove good laughs and conversation and visits and traveling and eating sweets and having a good time. I'm of the 'eat, drink and be merry' variety, as is a lot of my family, and any excuse for a celebration is good enough for me. Heck, for awhile there we used to celebrate Thursdays. I dunno, it just seemed like such a depressing day, everyone always wishing it was Friday, so we figured Thursday was our 'go out and do something' day. Worked for us!

Okay, so after that ramble...

The Holidays were great. The kids were a blast, nothing but Hallmark style laughter, smiles, and joy. Seriously, I don't know how that happened, but they were wonderful and happy, they did really well with all the different schedule changes, who was in the house and who wasn't, who we were visiting, what time we were eating, differing bedtimes, etc. They even both had a sleepover, P at MIL's house and A at my parent's house, and they were great and had fun. Nik and I got a nice date on New Years, just sushi and walking around downtown, doesn't take much for us :) So all in all, the Holidays were fun, pretty uneventful, successful, etc.

And now... to get back into it.

Which is going okay-ish.

I'm back to the gym and *trying* to start eating better again. I really need to get back into Pilates and probably get the chocolate out of this house in a way other than eating it.

Nik's getting back into running again and he's going at it full force. His huge deadline at work is looming in front of him and he's working a lot during his time at home too.

Ambrose, who cut out naps, is now passing out right before lunch time which is a fine time to do so but even so he doesn't sleep that long because the poor babe is so hungry. He was so happy to go back to school.

P too is happy to be in school and see his friends, buuuut...

P was shocked that he wasn't out of school at Winter, like he thought. He's really struggling internally with some things. Before break he was told that the Polar Express would be coming to the school and I had to let him down on that. Then he asked his teacher and was told that the Polar Express WAS real and that it would come for him. Ummmm... what? So now my kid is sad that it didn't come for him, or that he missed it, and others obviously got to go, and yes of course it's real because his teacher said so! I'm all about keeping the spirit alive and all, but my kid is so literal and this really hurts his heart... Then there were his other expectations. Winter was supposed to bring snow which would let him throw snowballs. He's been talking about this for months, throwing snowballs with his friends. He was counting down to winter. Winter came. There are no snowballs. Seriously, he's come into our room in the mornings crying a couple times over the fact that there's still no snow. He was going to throw snowballs with his friends, and it's bad enough he's in school when he thought Winter Break lasted all winter, but now there's no snowballs. And on top of that, this dumb yo-yo show came through a month ago with the sole purpose of selling the kids yo-yos. Several kids got them, but I told P that if he wanted one that badly he could wait until Christmas as he'd just received tons of gifts for his birthday. He did, patiently, even with his friends bringing yo-yos into school and showing off tricks. He got his yo-yo Christmas day, was soooo happy, practiced his tricks, brought the yo-yo in yesterday and... wasn't allowed to play with it in school. Apparently there had been fights over the yo-yos with the other kids and I didn't know about that. I respect the teacher's decision, and P was very respectful and listened even though I could tell it was just killing him. He ended up losing his yo-yo yesterday after being disrespectful to me. It was supposed to be just for a minute but the resulting meltdown, brought on by so much disappointment all culminating at that moment... yeeeeaaaah. That stunk. At least it was followed by 12+hours of sleep for him, and lots of cuddles.

I'm pretty sure that it will take a few more weeks for us all to be totally back into this. And really, we didn't get as far *out* of it as I had thought. The kids held it together so well for so long and I'm really proud of them, something I'm trying to say a lot to help P really believe it (because it's true!). And going to the gym is proving to be nicer than I remembered, though I really need to push myself to do cardio. Stretching and strength is good and all but it doesn't help my heart :) The food thing is proving the hardest, and we're eating a lot of frozen veggies and pastas right now. But we'll get there!

Here's hoping everyone has a GREAT 2012 :)

Sweet Lil P

2011-12-27T17:55:00.000-08:00

This afternoon I took my boys to Marbles before heading to dinner with my parents. I had emailed my mother just to whine and we agreed that dinner with the grandparents would cheer P up after a rough spot this morning, especially with Daddy being out tonight.

While at Marbles he found some craft supplies, asked a staff member kindly for a stapler, and proceeded to create a book from scratch with no help.

His title page. He did it Manga style :) "this is me"

This one's easy to read. It made me start to tear up.

This one is not easy to read :-P "I am a good engineer, very good. I am smart, very good."

"Blue is good, very good. Booo (say it like a ghost now), I am good."

I was tearing up and could only whisper "Good boy" when I got to the end.

"Silly mommy," he said with a smile. "It says good bye!"

:)

Good Bay!

Merry Christmas Y'all!

2011-12-24T11:58:00.001-08:00

Yesterday was so warm, like the days preceding, and I got thiiiis close to pulling out bright summer clothes, flip flops, and sunglasses and having us all pose for a "Christmas in NC" picture :)

Today? It is not so hot. Not freezing, no, but not summer clothes weather.

Anyway, I'm not sure if it was the weather, the fact that we didn't decorate, or the fact that we had just been busy, but I was so not feeling this Christmas thing. I mean, family? Presents? Good food and lots of laughter? Yes, definitely looking forward to it. And I'm certainly not feeling morose or depressed this Holiday, in fact I'm quite happy and at peace right now.

But there was just something about the magic missing for me...

So last night we tried out this thing called Lights on the Neuse. It's in another city, half an hour away, and it cost almost $30. That coupled with the crowds, the costs for cocoa or other treats, having to wait in line an hour in the cold, jumpy children, and it not in any way being what I expected when we got there...

Yeah, I was ready to leave.

By the time we got up to the front of the line, P had been in trouble several times for various dumb things we normally would've let slide, A was fussy and shivering, and Nik and I were both just groaning.

For a second that broke, when a group of girls started to sing "Rudolph" and so many people, me included, joined in. Ambrose even clapped. And then it was gone and went back to waiting for them to load up the next tractor for the "hayride," where really it was just a tractor pulling a long platform with benches and railings at each side and some hay thrown down in the middle.

We boarded, snuggled in, reprimanded the kids again because, sheesh, we don't want to hold still for this long either but seriously just sit still!

And then we were off.

And it was incredible. Breathtaking. Magical.

And it wasn't so much the music, though that seemed all encompassing, nor was it necessarily the half hour light show, though that truly blew us away. It was my husband and I, each with a quiet, snuggling, wide eyes little boy sitting on our lap, watching the magic through their eyes and realizing that this night, this music, these lights, this feeling, was something they would remember forever, even if only a distant memory.

This Christmas may just be another Christmas for me. It's not a "first" Christmas for anyone, nothing horrid happened to our family this year where Christmas is helping to heal us, we aren't struggling and we aren't going all out. In some ways, it's just another day, something fun and something worth noting, but it would probably pass right out of our memory banks.

But looking at P... watching his eyes, hearing his voice, feeling him tense when lights would flick on and a whole lit up magical playground, moving by itself, would appear beside us from nowhere... feeling his body relax against mine as we trekked through the forest path, full of lit flowers and cottages and wildlife... seeing his face when we got to an open field, dark and quiet, and suddenly in a blaze of light a whole forest of bright multicolored trees light up and start flashing to the music...

And knowing my own memories and realizing that he will likely remember that moment, that special, magical time for the rest of his life...

That, to me, was magic.

And it made me tear up.

Oh, and the best part, of course, were his words.

"Mommy, I love you. Thank you for bringing me here. I'll remember it for always."

Ah! This boy kills me!

Granted a few minutes later he told me he was board and needed my iPhone... But eh, that was erased pretty quickly at the next light show :)

*****

I should note that we capped off that night by going back into the mostly neglected 3D house, where you grab a pair of 3D glasses and walk through a barn filled with walls and tight twists and turns, with 3D painted on Christmas scenes all over the walls as you walk through.

We were at the very back, admiring a baby Jesus painting, when Nik tells me something is wrong with Ambrose. I turned around but he was hard to see in the black light with my 3D glasses on. It was just so dim...

So I bend over and ask, "Ambrose, what's wrong?"

"Nakey!" he tells me.

That's when I noticed he wasn't wearing anything but a shirt and he was holding himself and preparing to pee.

On baby Jesus.

So yeah, I got to be the crazy woman wearing 3D glasses grabbing a half naked child in the freezing cold and running past people as quickly as I could screaming, "WE DO NOT PEE ON BABY JESUS!!!"

He held it until we got home, haha!

*****

Today we all got up early, despite a late bedtime. We had breakfast at one of our old favorites, went to the only place open in the area (Durham Life and Sci), then rushed home to help the security guy set up our new system. It's nifty! I can see my living room from my phone! And the kid's windows are monitored now too, which makes me feel better. No more finding P perched on his sill or leaning out to hold early morning conversations with people walking down the street while we're still sleeping. Oh, and no one can get in too.

No I need to go quickly wrap a small gift for my grandparents that the kids made and head over there. Eep! We're supposed to be to their house (20 minutes away) in 9 minutes! Oh well, you win some you lose some :)

Breathe, woman, breathe...

2011-12-22T10:59:00.000-08:00

Dear me,

Yes, you're tired. You've been lulled into a false sense of security when it comes to sleep and you stayed up too late, only to be woken up quite early by two very excited children who now understand the concept of "Holiday Break."

And yeah, you put off drinking coffee until you got to your mother's at 9:30, instead of 7am, and you're kinda thrown off.

And yeah, getting them fed and ready for nap was a hassle.

And yeah... yeah, you failed at that.

For the toddler, who was nursing and crying and slapping you at 6:20 am is now the same toddler who has been rubbing raccoon eyes for 2 hours, crying, getting violent, and refusing to sleep.

You cannot take him to his room until his big brother is asleep, meaning instead of getting your own needed quiet time and then some fun time with both kids, you will now be stuck at home for roughly 5 hours straight having to keep one child quiet while the other sleeps.

And that sucks.

Especially when you have so, so much to do and when they will both be miserable about the situation and you are already miserable and, urg, yeah, sucks.

But you know what?

You got your 6 year old to sleep and he's been down 2 hours, two very necessary hours given his state when you sent him to bed, and that's awesome.

And you still got lunch (yeah, the salad making was super rushed but eh, you remembered the lettuce to it's all good). And you still got a shower, even if it was a 2 minute military shower that you rushed through quickly while the toddler screamed at you and you tried to shush him. It had been 3 days since your last shower, thanks to all the holiday hustle and bustle, so yeah, you're feeling much better and you should savor that feeling.

And the tired toddler is actually doing alright and will likely nap, and while truly inconvenient for everyone it will make it possible for you to actually get some one on one time with your 6 year old. That's rare. Savor that as well. And indulge in that new family fun video game you picked up just for him.

Also? Your house is full of chocolate and sweets. Granted, not as full as it was a couple days ago before you went into all out chocoholic mode... but you held off longer than you normally do, so hey, go you! You might only gain 10 lbs this Holiday instead of the expected 12! Hooray!

Also, your husband is cool and is commiserating over Google chat, sorta, and that's cool. And, um, you're seeing your mother later, maybe you can ask her to bring wine? She has lots of wine. That will make post-bedtime life awesome right?

Also, more chocolate. Just focus on the chocolate.

Oh, and the whole "family is safe, happy, healthy, and thriving and we've had such a great year" thing. Yeah, think about that :)

So, me, please stop being all emo at the computer about something dumb like spending over an hour trying to get a child to sleep and having him get angry and start hitting you and screaming. He was tired and didn't mean it, and you are tired and need to honor that, and maybe the chocolate will make it all better. Just hide it from the kids because you will not be happy if they find your chocolate stash :)

Pre-Christmas Quickie

2011-12-20T19:16:00.000-08:00

Bullet Point Style!

-Just got in our invite for the MAPP classes and I checked the confirmation box. Will be in the mail tomorrow. Already tired thinking about how our schedule will be for those 5 weeks.

-Teacher Holiday gifts all finished, wrapped, and ready to go :)

-Nik just bought and iPhone 4. If we say it's for Christmas, then it doesn't sound so expensive. Also Siri is hilarious.

-We've all, everyone in this household, had 3 nights in a row of wonderful, deep sleep with no nighttime interruptions and a reasonable wake up time. I feel so... alive.

-The night before the Great Sleepening was awful. A had been crying all through the night and needing comfort more and more, for weeks, and we were back to sleeping in shifts. We were miserable. So I left him in his room, alone, in the dark, to cry himself to sleep as he stood pounding on his door. I don't know who felt worse, him or me. He slept and woke up much happier than he had been waking up. And he's been sleeping like an angel since then. *Sigh*

-Tomorrow is the last day of school for both of them for a couple of weeks. Not sure if I'm excited or petrified.

-Finally getting in the Christmas spirit... by eating lots of chocolate. Oh, and nachos. Can't forget the Christmas nachos.

-Presents wrapped and ready to go! Wish we could open them now! Paxton doesn't even want hints, and Ambrose doesn't care. Nik and I are like kids and we want to open them NOW NOW NOW!

-Holy crap Meetup is expensive! Now if I can think of 2 other Meetup groups to start it might be worth it...

-I think I broke Paxton's heart tonight when I told him that, despite what they told him at school today, he would not in fact be boarding a real, huge steam engine and going on a magical trip to the real North Pole tomorrow, even if they are giving him real tickets for this magical trip. In fact, I think it might just be fun imaginationy stuff. He argued with me a bit and I feel bad that I disappointed him, but better me and better tonight than tomorrow at his school. I can only imagine my poor, excited boy there in his jammies on jammie day, holding his special ticket and looking around for the real Polar Express only to be told that they're just going to read the book... as if his emotions aren't all over the place enough as it is! I can see a definite total melt down possibility there.

-I need to sleep... but I'm thinking about this week! I'm excited for what we have planned! I'm excited to eat out and see family and open presents and have cookies and home made candy and cocoa and have a break from the norm and just be together. I'm excited for my kids, and I'm excited for Nik and I. I'm just sort of in this anticipation mode right now :)

If I don't post again, I hope everyone reading this has (had?) a wonderful Holiday, no matter what or how you celebrate (or even if you don't!).

Blah

2011-12-15T17:37:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning I went out with a friend. My BFF, actually. A typical Wednesday would have Nik and P out of the house by 8:30, me dropping off Ambrose at school by 9, cleaning up at home until 10:30 or so and then rushing off to see Renata for a couple of hours before picking Ambrose up.

Yesterday Nik was sick and headed to the doctor. I left around 9, with him prepping to leave. I dropped of A, ran out to see my BFF for brunch because that's how her schedule was working, and then talked to Nik on the phone while we were headed back to her house so I could grab my car. As I was speaking to Nik, who'd just returned home from the doctor, he asked me, "honey, where did you move the PS3?"

"Huh?" I asked.

"The PS3... and the Wii... oh, your jewelry box is on the floor... and the back door, um..."

"Yeah, please call the cops, I'll be home soon, OMG."

So yeah, we were robbed.

Not too much was taken, really. The Playstation 3 and controller, some games, the Wii with Mario Kart and a Gamecube memory card in it. Oh, and the jewelry... they got my engagement ring, my pretty little dark opal $200 ring we bought together almost 7 years ago, right after Christmas. I loved that ring... and my class ring, but even though it was personalized it was still less meaningful. They left my other jewelry but crushed one of my gold bangles (which was a gift from BFF for high school graduation).

So we're out some stuff. Since our two biggest Christmas gifts are video games and the new controllers to play them, well, looks like we need to buy two more big gifts. In fact, I already replaced the Wii.

But the engagement ring is irreplaceable. And the save games, as dumb as this sounds, are equally irreplaceable. We're not TV people, we're gamers, and that tiny little memory card contained the saves of all our favorite gamecube games, collectibles and classics we'd played together during long nights previous to children.

Oh, and Paxton's 17 hour save game that we were working on together.

Yeah, I got to explain to my 6 year old that someone went into our house, took our stuff, and now he can't watch Netflix or play his favorite games. When I think about the fact that I won't be able to hand off my engagement ring to any of my children.... and they probably only got like $30 for it too :-(

*****

So, for the most part, what we're missing is stuff. Material stuff. And we get that, really we do. We also get that it could have been a lot worse than it was. It could have been multiple people doing a complete job on the house, or someone armed and dangerous and willing to harm. They could have seen my husband's $2K laptop or the checkbook. They could have really trashed the place. It looks like it's highly possible Nik actually walked in on the guy and didn't notice form our split foyer, meaning the guy just ran out the back before Nik went downstairs, and yet there was no confrontation. Heck, the back door doesn't always latch properly which is how they got in, and you know what? They didn't have to break the glass. My door is just fine in this winter(ish) weather.

And we have the money. We bought another Wii and we'll buy another PS3 and hey, maybe I can ask Nik for a nice new ring come February when we celebrate 10 years together. Another opal would be glorious :)

And we can just replay the games and we can clean up the drawers, and hey, they didn't take the Christmas gifts! Sure they took some of the PS3 games, but they were all either games we were done playing, or a game where the disk was sitting out, or a game that really ticked Nik off because he couldn't get his little guy to climb this flipping tower.

So... we'll be good...

....

But dude...

Someone was IN my house.

Someone picked my house after watching it, perhaps for days or longer. Someone jumped my fence. Someone looked in my windows, tried my door and opened it. Someone unhooked my game systems and chose video games off my shelf. Someone went through our Christmas presents in my sewing room, where the kids aren't even allowed. Someone went through Nik's office. Someone walked up my stairs, and they probably left their shoes on (jerk). Someone went into my bedroom. Someone opened our drawers. Someone looked through Nik's stash of Christmas presents. Someone looked through my freaking *underwear* some of it now unfolded. Someone found my "personal lubricant" and left it out. Someone went through the drawer right under my pillow, the one with my personal items including childhood toys. Someone looked through the jewelry box I've had since I was 3 or 4 and tossed it aside. Someone grabbed my real jewelry box and took it downstairs. Someone took my engagement ring, my class ring, and broke my bangle, likely squished in his hand.

And then that someone just... left. Out the back door. Like it wasn't a big deal. Like they were shopping.

And they walked a couple blocks over and tried to do it to another house, but their alarm went off.

The cops think it's just some sloppy teen, a single person who lives in the neighborhood and is doing this on foot. I guess we'll see if more houses are hit...

*****

So I had a panic attack yesterday, or rather all over yesterday just slowly off and on. I would go from laughing uncontrollably to near tears to feeling just paralyzed. Again, I know it's not as bad as it could be, not nearly so. But suddenly the cost to replace would pop into my head, and the thought of not ever seeing my engagement ring again, and the thought of someone just walking into my house and grabbing my stuff and maybe making money off of that... I would just feel ill.

And for the most part it's been passing.

Okay, yeah, I started to tear up a few times today. When they were rude to me at the first Gamestop I went to and refused to even see if someone had sold a PS3 with my serial number, something they can easily check from there, as it will be days before the police report hits them... yeah. The girl behind the counter never looked up and just flatly said, "that suck..." I tried to joke about it, since I joke about everything (just how I am), but when I started to say, "It's just that my son's Christmas gift is for the PS3," I couldn't even finish my sentence and had to leave. And they still didn't even look up.

While in the mall playground I couldn't log into my email and I freaked, knowing I was logged in to at least one or two things on the PS3 and Wii with my normal screen name and password, tore Ambrose away from the slide, and sped home as fast as I could. It was just a fluke but I changed all my passwords anyway. For a second the violation from our home really hit me and the thought of this person, whoever he/she is, having access to my email? I mean, yeah, there's account info and passwords and such, sure, but what kept going through my head was all of our adoption journeys and how much we haven't printed out or saved anyplace else. The email letting us know we'd passed court in Ethiopia, the description of A's adoption situation, a short email from our agency about how he was doing in respite, etc. Those things, too, are irreplaceable, and just so *personal*, and there are days when the boys are driving me nuts and I just have to bring up one of those emails and my skips a few beats all over again.

******

So yeah, I think I'm pretty much through with processing this. Facebook/In person/ Blog mental dump = over. Yay!

I guess we'll be spending some serious money in the next week or so. New PS3, alarm system, and of course a whole new drawer of underwear. I mean, ew, someone was scrounging around in there, even washing them doesn't seem safe to me right now! Who knows where those hands have been?!?!

Beginning

2011-12-12T11:01:00.000-08:00

We went to that Foster Care information session in September and sent in our application in October. I emailed shortly after that but hadn't heard anything back. I decided, since we're still torn on the direction our family building should go, that we should leave it up to "fate." If we get a call back, we'll pursue this. If not, we won't.

On Thursday afternoon I missed a call, and the caller left no voicemail. I assumed it was another debt collector for the person (alegzandermishaw as the digital voice says) who used to have my number. Friday afternoon at 4:58pm I was sitting around and decided to Google the number, just to be sure.

Turns out the number belongs to the intake lady at our county Foster Care system.

So I called back this morning, figuring she could be calling about any number of things. We could be rejected, we could be accepted, we could be asked questions, we could be asked to re-apply, we could be asked to come to another session, etc.

The lady was very nice and told me that they'd been holding back on my file as I'd put that our primary reason for wanting to do Foster Care was adoption. She said that they weren't sure if they should send me an invite for the MAPP classes or send me the info of an adoption agency. So I told her our thoughts, how we would indeed like for this journey to end in adoption but we know full well the risks, which is why we'd held of on taking the plunge so far. We feel we have a lot we can offer and that we'd be open to any number of situations (such as respite, emergency foster, week long foster, etc) but we wanted to attend the MAPP class first and find out more information. Right now our primary concern is the well being (physically and emotionally) of our children and we will make all our decisions in regards to placements in their best interest.

And so we are being sent the invite and we'll be starting classes in a month.

There are 10 classes, 3 hours each, over the course of 5 weeks. It'll be a rough month, and with Nik having a major deadline at work at that same time... yeah, it'll be crazy.

But we have a set start and end date so I can handle that kind of craziness!

The whole licensing and certification process can take anywhere from six months to over a year, but I'm hoping that we'll be ready to go by mid-fall, when the kids are another year older and hopefully sleeping in the same bedroom. This will give them a lot of time to grow and to process what our family is about to do, and will give us time to prepare physically (new car? More beds? A crib set up in the nursery? Another car seat installed? Maybe learn how to make a bottle of formula, which I've never done?). And it will give Nik and I time to build up a support team, to connect with other, more experienced foster and fost/adopt parents as well as the professionals involved.

So 2012 might just be our wildest year yet. Here's hoping it all goes smoothly!

Shaken....

2011-12-06T05:39:00.000-08:00

Last night was a school "eat out" fundraiser. You know, you go to a restaurant and say you're with the school and order dinner, and a portion is donated to the school. It was for A's preschool and we got to meet up with other families from the (small) school, which I love to do, and A was happy to see his friends outside of school.

It wasn't the most convenient. First off, we don't eat meat and it was at Chik-Fil-A, so the kids had french fries and milkshakes for dinner. P ate some fruit as well, but Ambrose wouldn't touch the stuff. *Sigh* Also we don't often eat out during the week, typically just for time. With my early risers, we're a "lights off by 7pm during the week" kind of family. Ambrose can typically stay up later but P crashes pretty early and is up around 6, though we ask him to stay quiet until 7. And no, they don't sleep any later if we put them to bed later, and yes we've let them go to sleep as late as 11pm and they're still up at 6 and can't get back to sleep.

Anyway, the big thing I was worried about is the layout. This is North Hills, where the restaurant is located right beside a little road that doesn't look like a road and is frequently blocked off from being a road while we're there. Other than the flower pots separating road from non-road, and the cars driving and parking, you can't really tell that there's a road there. P can tell. I can tell. Ambrose cannot tell it's a road.

Oh, and Nik wasn't there so it was just me with two tired, sugared up boys in the dark beside a non-road looking road.

See where this is going?

We ordered our meal, sat and ate a bit and chatted, the kids were running and playing, which made me nervous but P is a smart boy and was staying off the road with his friends, while Ambrose followed him like a typical annoying little brother. I kept an eye on them but started to calm down as they continued to play away from the road with their friends.

I had my back turned to the road when I started to hear a parent yell, "wait, stop!" and then another, and then I turned...

And there was my two year old, running into the road, in front of a parked SUV, about to pop out in front of an oncoming car who could. not. see. him.

I've replayed that vision over and over and over again for the past... 15 hours?

I think my heart completely stopped, and I could hear myself shrieking and feel myself moving but it was all a haze.

Ambrose stopped when I yelled, never coming around the corner. And the "oncoming car, whose ominous headlights made my child almost a silhouette for a moment, was actually stopping to let someone out so they weren't actually going to drive into my child. And the parent who yelled first was very close to this and grabbed him as soon as he stopped, and probably would have reached him even if he'd continued running.

But even so....

I had *thought* I knew where my child was. I had *thought* I had him in my peripheral vision, to my left, and instead he was to my right and running towards the road.

I messed up.

And he's okay, and he probably would have been okay even if I hadn't noticed, and thank God he's okay and he wasn't even in real trouble to begin with.

But oh... oh....

I am shaken.

I sat with him on my lap, held tightly to me with him struggling to get down and play, as I shook and tried to keep from crying or throwing up, tried to continue on like normal in this group of friends. It was a scare, sure, but he was okay now...

And I just couldn't do it. I stayed near him for the rest of our time there and as soon as I felt my legs were steady enough to get us to the car (which meant crossing a road) I did so and took them home, bathed them, dressed them, and with Nik's help put them to bed.

All the while that image of him running into the road, with the headlights approaching, kept playing in my head.

******

Today I have a wild little boy running around the room happily while I type this. And I'm so, so grateful. I know "the scare" lasted all of a couple seconds. But a couple seconds is all it takes, right? All it takes for a life to end. All it takes to be a name in the newspaper, a tragedy, a tale where people share half truths of "isn't it sad about that little boy?" with neighbors, and then forgotten by the world. All it takes for a car not to stop, for a child not to stop, and when the two collide it's obvious who will survive.

Still scared. Still shaken.

And so, so happy that it was nothing more than a scare.

Yearning.

2011-12-04T13:37:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we took another day trip to Greensboro. We spent most of the day at the Science Museum, followed by a visit to N's grandmother. I think next time we go we'll make more time for her since we see her so rarely and the kids really loved seeing her (and the feeling was mutual!).

For lunch we located an Indian buffet, which was heavenly! Ambrose filled up on rice while the rest of us chowed down on some of the best Indian food I've ever had. Seriously, we were all in pain when we left their with our bloated bellies!

Shortly after we got our food, while the kids were being quiet, Nik looked at me and said, "It feels like we're missing one."

"I know. I feel that way a lot."

"No, no, I mean, I can see both boys and I know that they're both here and safe, but it feels like we're missing one."

"I know. I feel that way a lot. Really."

"... Oh...."

Just for a second we held each others gaze, sort of a quick understanding passing through.

We have room for another. We want another. We're missing another.

*****

Even as I type this I think about all those I know who have lost a child, or who still wait. Some have had miscarriages or still births, others had failed or contested adoptions (some after very long placements), others lost a child to death, and others have been "matched" with a child that they are waiting for, sometimes for years now, knowing that their child is on the other side of the world and they just can't get to them.

I cannot compare my own yearning to this kind of aching pain. Our yearning for another child is just that: A yearning. It is not painful and it is not overwhelming.

It's like a dull throb at the base of your skull.

I can ignore it most of the time, and often I just accept it as being there, something I can live with, something that's pretty much a part of me now. This missing child is still more an idea, a wish, a dream, than anything based in reality.

And yet, there have been moments recently where I'm suddenly, out of nowhere, gripped by this intense desperation. My child is out there somewhere and I'm not with her! It passes and I wonder for a moment if I've gone insane or perhaps I haven't gotten enough sleep or maybe I'm feeling hormonal... and then I remember having these same little jolts with both of our sons, this feeling that our child was out there somewhere, that we didn't have a name or gender or place or race or anything and yet our child was out there and we somehow had to find the right path to our child.

Perhaps we started this journey too early... Perhaps now is when we were meant to start...

*****

We're so torn, so torn....

We may want to stop at 3 children, and if we do, and if we're able, shouldn't we pursue a pregnancy? I would likely always regret it if we didn't even try...

And yet, I know the adoption world, it has worked for us, and the thought of bringing in another child through private adoption or foster care absolutely thrills me.

What if our child is a waiting embryo, frozen in Cleveland? What if our child is a little girl with cleft lip in Cambodia waiting for adoptions to resume, potentially next year? What if our child is living in this same city with a foster family who does not intend to adopt? What if our child is nestled warm inside the womb of her expecting mother, where she'll be kept safe and warm and nurtured while her mother struggles with the hardest decision of her life? What if our child isn't even on this Earth yet and yet we still feel that he or she is out there, or at least will be out there, and we need to get prepared now?

I check adoption news a lot. I read forums. I talk to people. I pray. I read. I dream. And I'm looking for a sign.

Sirens went off in my head with P. And with A things fell into place. We thought we knew which way to go this time around, a few times now, and they were dead ends.

I'm just trying to stay calm and enjoy the wild ride right now, because really what else can I do?

I guess I'll just have to keep my eyes and ears, and heart, open and hope that it comes to us before too long. And in the meantime, I'll be wrassling with a pair of wild little boys :) They do keep us busy!

Mompetition

2011-12-02T10:22:00.001-08:00

I have to say that I'm grateful on more than a few levels for how our family was made. Obviously, I'm grateful for my children and for how wonderful our life is right now. The boys are happy and thriving and without too many time outs and knock downs :-P

But other than that...

I'm grateful that I know what it feels like to be infertile, what it feels like to go through legal hoops for a child, what it feels like to have a social worker judge you (harshly), what it feels like to step into a third world orphanage, what it feels like to love a child you didn't birth, what it feels like to be a "billboard" for infertility and adoption on the playground, what it feels like to be stared at, recognized, and talked to more than my friends when in public, and what it feels like to be completely out of order with the normal parenting scheme.

In a way, it's really helped to avoid that whole mompetition thing.

Know what I'm talking about?

Mine's talking first, mine's sleeping through the night, mine's doing this, mine's doing that, and I know for a fact that I'm a "good mom", no, a "better mom" because of this. Ooooooo...

So previous to Paxton, my only interaction with children was my niece and nephews and children I either babysat or watched for parents older than me. We were married at 21 and 23 and our peers hadn't settled down... in fact, a few have recently married and one is expecting his first child soon, but that's it. We're ahead of the game in that way, which is good in a sense since it means we didn't have to spend years watching our peers raise their children while we kept waiting for #1.

But it also means that we had no. clue. what. we. were. doing.

Oh, sure, we'd read up on attachment and we knew the legal process and we had the carseat and all the gear and a stocked fridge, etc.

But we didn't know how to bathe our toddler. Seriously, when we realized we'd had custody for like 5 days and hadn't washed him once we were like "Good Lord, and they're letting us keep him?" We didn't know what portion size to give him, didn't know his likes and dislikes, had no previous relationship with him, no clue about his medical background, birth weight, average bio family height, any talents his first family has. We didn't even know which teeth he had, nor how many we should expect, and yes I actually got b%$&#ed out about this, in front of my kid and the woman's kids, on a playground.

And it stung.

I was a first time mother to a toddler. Other first time mom's had newborns, and mom's of toddlers were so much more aware, so bonded to their children, had two whole years, heck their kid's whole lifetime, to get to know their child.

It was so off.

Bonding was off. Feeding was off. Sleep was off. Potty training was off. Everything was off.

And he's awesome and amazing and intelligent and witty and sweet and people adore him and I adore him and the only thing I would change, if I could, would be that I would hug him and cuddle him even more and not stress about all the stupid things that moms are made to stress about now.

And that's what I'm trying to do with Ambrose.

Who cares when he potty trains?

Who cares when he first walked or how many words he can speak?

Do you need to know how many teeth he has?

And yes, sometimes he'll push a kid down or steal a toy, he's a two year old boy and that's normal.

I hear it on the playground and see it on forums and in articles and comments on articles and, well, it makes me sad a bit.

Because they're babies. Tiny humans growing in the way that their bodies are meant to grow, developing at the speed they are meant to develop at. And they're children, small children, making huge mental leaps already and learning to read or write is really so complicated at first. And their teens, just trying to keep their emotions in check. And they're young adults, trying to balance freedom and responsibility. And their new parents, who are realizing they have no idea what they're doing and falling into the trap of mompetition, comparing their children, bragging when they're children do anything earlier or bigger or easier, as if it's proof of their own success as a parent, and complaining and frustrated and downright worried when they're children aren't the first at anything.

I just have to remind myself that everyone, even the people who brag and lie (and many do) and try to look great, are just trying to do their best.

Also, my kids are cuter. So there. :-P

Kidspeak

2011-12-01T10:16:00.000-08:00

It's the best part of having kids. I mean, okay, maybe the kisses and cuddles and watching them grow and simply just having kids could trump the kidspeak....

But seriously? Listening to young children speak to each other? Holding a conversation with them? Listening when they're explaining something to you? Oh. Oh, it's hilarious.

*****

On the way home from school:
P: Mommy, wow, look at that big bright light up in the sky! Doesn't that look so cool?
Me: Oh, yes, honey that's just the sun behind a cloud. It does look pretty doesn't it?
P: IT'S HURTING MY EYES! THAT LIGHT IS HURTING ME TO LOOK AT! WHY IS IT HURTING?
Me: Paxton, that is the SUN, stop looking right at the sun!!!!

*****

Me: Ambrose, what's your name.
A: Name Isaac!
Me: Your name is Isaac?
A: Ya, me name Isaac!
Me: Aw, how old are you Isaac?
A: Me five ears olds!
Me: Oh, that's great sweetie! Okay, we need to go now Ambrose.
A: NO! ME NAME ISAAC! ME FIVE EARS OLD!!!!!
Me: ... okay, um, Isaac. Let's go, okay?
"I": Okay!

*****

At the park, with a friend:
P: Do you like boogers?
F: Yeah, I love boogers!
P: Do you eat them??
F: Yeah!
P: Me too! They taste like cheese!
Me: OMG, eeeewwwww!!!!! Paxton, that's sick, don't... well, don't say that OR do that!
P: MOM! Why are you listening to me!
Me: Because you're sitting right beside me and yelling!

*****

In the car:
P:I'm sad.
Me: Why?
P: I'm going to miss my friends when school is out. Tomorrow is the last day!
Me: Oh, no honey, tomorrow is the last day of November!
P: But December is Winter Break!
Me: Not all of December, just a couple weeks toward the end. You'll still go to school for a few more weeks!
P: Yaaay! And do I get chocolate too? Every day in December?
Me: What, no, why... Oh! The Advent calendar, yes! Yes, you'll get a chocolate every day!
P: Yaaay!
A: Me too! Me too chocolate every day!
P: No, Ambrose, not you. Just me. Oh, and mom and dad. But not you.
A: MOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYY!!!!!
Me: Yes Ambrose
A: ME TOO CHOCOLATE EVERY DAY?
Me: Yes, Ambrose, you too.
A: BRUDDA!!! Me too chocolate every day! Yaaaay!
Then they both clapped.

*****

I want to add that Ambrose is now petrified of fruit in jello and almost hyperventilated about a blackberry until I took it out and ate it. He knew it was a blackberry, and told me it was a blackberry, but apparently its presence in his jello was so utterly unnatural that he had to shove his jello across the table while shrieking and then cover his face screaming at me to get the berry out.

And he thinks there may be an emu hiding under our bathroom cabinet, so he has to check. Emu's are scary.

Also he's the wind and he can make things blow. Like leaves and straws and his brother and anything he gets in his little potty and your face, etc.

*****

This should not make him as happy as it does... We went to the mall bathroom *just* so he could side on this thing. He just loves it so much...

Wreaking havoc at the doctor's office. Seriously, we were there over an hour, last patients to leave. We took a walk, went to the bathroom (P got to pee in a cup!), played all over, looked at magazines, played on my phone, and I did everything in my power to keep them from trashing the place and going insane. Seriously, doctor's offices should come with a playland. Like McDonalds. Only sanitary, because it's a doctor's office. Granted if you're there you may be sick.... okay, bad idea, but still! Glad it's a yearly, not a monthly!

Thanksgiving Vacay

2011-11-28T17:41:00.000-08:00

We didn't go anywhere for Thanksgiving, just stayed home.... except for numerous day trips :) I am SUCH a fan of taking trips close to home! I'm such a home body that I honestly get nervous if I'm too far away. What if there's a medical emergency with one of the children or a friend/family member in Raleigh? What if things are not working out at our destination? What if the weather becomes awful? What if we lose a wallet or keys? WHAT IF I GET BORED???

It's just nice to know that home is not far away at all, and yet still be able to have that "vacation" feel, you know? Eating out, lazing about attractions, riding carousels, taking too many pictures, that sort of thing.

Thanksgiving was a full on stay-cation for us and it was Won. Der. Fuuuuullll!!!!!

The only bad thing was, well, I messed up. I had thought that P's school was in session M-W, but it turns out it was only M and T, and I found this out like Monday night. And P found out Tuesday that he only had that day of school left and would not be coming back the next day.

P thrives in a very stable environment. There was a time we had to do the same. thing. every. day at the same. time. every. day. At this point a regular schedule works. 5 days in school and two weekends not in school? Totally fine. And a summer where we have a relatively set schedule most days? Again, totally fine. Predictable. Stable.

But this through him off.

It's been awhile since I've had a dis-regulated child. I sometimes forget P has Sensory Processing Disorder, as he keeps it in check so well. We're used to the small quirks and can do some quick sensory diet techniques without even thinking about it.

But Weds? Oh, yeah, he was just plain out of it.

We went to Pullen Park, which is beautiful and incredible and took my breath away even while I still miss the quaint old park it used to be. And we did truly have a fun day. We spent like $20 on ride tickets and more than that on food at their cafe (snack and late lunch), we rode rides, met up with friends, lazed about, took pictures, ran around, played on the playground, and just plain had a great day.

And P held himself together emotionally just perfectly. He was smiling and happy and well behaved.

But he was in full on SPD mode. When he wasn't flapping, clapping, or smacking himself all over his front side (face included), he was throwing his body around, running into things, rubbing people's hair, talking/yelling really loudly, and laughing to the point of hysteria. The kid didn't have a melt down or a rage, he didn't hurt anyone, he didn't freak out, and my Lord am I proud of him! Luckily as the day wore on (and the park got louder and more stimulating) he calmed down. Food in the belly every couple hours, regular enforced bathroom breaks, a few tough (like almost bruising) massages and joint compresses, and an order from me to touch *everything* not attached to a human being with his hands to "see how it feels". Seriously, y'all, if you ever have a well behaved kid having an SPD fit just tell them to roll on the wet grass and rub their hands along rocks/bricks/mulch/gravel/fences/etc and tell you how each feels. Normally he'd look at me like I was insane, but at that time it was like candy to him.

So anyway, yeah, Weds was all about Pullen and sort of helping P through that little bump and moving on.

Thurs was Thanksgiving with my parents and grandparents at my mom's house, which was great except I'd hardly slept the night before and a late nap (9-11) tooootally messed me up! I was a bit of a zombie until towards the end of the meal, when we finally got Ambrose (my all night wake-upper) asleep and I finally got two cups of coffee and some food into me! I was so mad at first, I was exhausted and out of it and we show up and my mother's house smells EXACTLY like it did last Christmas when she made this awesome cinnamon chip scones (my biggest weakness!). I was literally salivating and kept trying to find these things. Seriously, when they weren't in the bread basket at the table I came up with an excuse and went into the kitchen to check the oven and putter around. Where could she be hiding them??? The smell was so strong!

Turns out it was a cinnamon potpourri.

I almost cried.

#firstworldproblems :-)

That night we visited again to see my aunt and cousin, who'd come in from Florida. P switched his cousin obsession from my cousin Tiffany to my cousin Bethany. He loves having a girl to flirt with. And I'm so going to embarrass him as a teen about that!

Friday I took the boys out to Durham Life and Sci for a visit and we ended up spending the day, 9-5 minus an hour to eat lunch at Elmo's. It was great except for the wait in line for the one paying ride we went on! Though again, P was fantastic. I handed him a $5 bill and gave him some instructions, "go up this path and then to the left. You'll see some bathrooms. Somewhere over there you'll find a machine that wants $5 and will give you a token to ride this ride. I'm going to wait in line, you go get the token."

In a way, it was foolish. He just turned six, he's not super familiar with it, and OMG I let my young child out of my sight. But I'm a huge fan of free ranging when I feel we're in a spot to do so, and letting my children learn independence in reasonable situations. And man does it build confidence and real life skills! You wouldn't believe how proud I was when he returned a few minutes later proudly showing me the sparkly (tiny) token he'd purchased so he could ride the trampoline/take off thing!

Saturday we just sort of hung out. Nik took the kids in the morning while I slept, then they came home for lunch and a nap. Got some grocery shopping done, cleaned up a bit, that sort of thing. In the afternoon we went to my grandparents house to visit my aunt and cousin again before they left but they were all busy playing cards. After spending about 10 or so minutes at the playground near their house and realizing that we were super close to the airport, we packed up and high tailed it over to the airport's observation deck and spent two hours (during a gorgeous sunset) watching all of the planes for Thanksgiving weekend come and go. P found a friend at the sandbox, A stared in awe as plane after plane came in seemingly out of nowhere or took flight and disappeared. It was beautiful and perfect. Then back to my grandparents for some dinner and chatting before heading home to bed.

Sunday we all just lazed about in the morning before heading out to a goat dairy farm about an hour away, close to the zoo. I have to admit, I was only really looking forward to meeting up with our friends through a local inter racial family group, but man the place blew me away! Tiny, quaint, and just the perfect get away for us. We've already made tentative plans to stay there some weekend in February, when they have the new baby kids! Our little guys need more outside farm and woods time, and the suites were adorable, the places was beautiful, and again, close to the zoo :)

Today was a normal day again. Monday. Nik went to work, Paxton went to school, Ambrose went to preschool, and I did some shopping and hit the gym for an hour. In a way, it was more relaxing than our week together! But I have to admit... it was nice once the day was over and we were all back together again :)

I'm so looking forward to Christmas break now!!!

And Now He Is Older....

2011-11-21T17:53:00.001-08:00

Ambrose turning 2 was hard. Really, it was. He was my first baby, and admittedly potentially my only baby. We'd love another, or even a few others, but life gives no guarantees so I chose to wholeheartedly indulge in his babiness while I still could.

Even so, while Ambrose turning 2 was hard, Ambrose being 2 is just fine. Perfect, in fact. I've had a two year old, I'm on familiar ground, and this time I'm doing it with a highly verbal, healthy, and firmly attached child which makes it so much more fun. I'm loving my little guy being two years old!

So I thought I could handle the growing up thing... and THEN, Paxton turned six.

Yeah, six.

Six years old.

That's, like, 72 months.

That's ooooooold!

Okay, so three was hard (how could I have a three year old when I'd only been a mom for a year?) , and four was hard because that was so less babyish, and then five was hard because that's the year you start school and he was so big and it's just such a kid year, not a little kid year, but at least five is at the precipice of kid years.

Six years old is firmly into kid territory.

School aged, reading, writing, knowing too much of the world already territory.

And man "six" does not roll off my tongue the way "five" did!

Maybe it's my own "big" birthday coming up (OMG the big 3-0 next summer!) but having a six year old makes me feel like I'm getting older, and not in that cool "wiser" way but in that totally uncool "mom, you're so old!" kinda way.

I'm sure I'll get used to it. In a few weeks, I probably won't have to correct myself when saying his age and it'll just seem normal to me.

And then next year he'll be seven...

*****

So I should note that his birthday went off without a hitch. Not drama, no tears, no melt downs, no fights, nothing!

The days leading up to his birthday I tried to make super fun. I had to take him out of school early on Tuesday for a dentist appointment, and he was just so, so sad about missing math and PE and being with his friends. I decided to make it up to him by taking him to a huge bouncy castle place, the same spot he'd wanted to have his birthday party before we nixed the idea (too crowded by far, as well as pricey!). It was just my two guys and two other kids for the whole two hours we were there! 6 huuuuge bouncy castles between 4 children. Um, yes, I like those numbers!

Wednesday afternoon was Chuck E Cheese, and then birthday morning we were all up early enough that I let him pick a breakfast location (Waffle House of all places!) and we all dropped him off at school as a family. Gotta make my boy feel special :)

We brought in cupcakes to his class during snack time and everyone sang happy birthday for him. He was super excited! When everyone started to sing he sort of had this plastered smile on his face, totally awkward, not accustomed to being on the receiving end even though he'd been anticipating it for weeks. He locked his eyes with mine and didn't look away until the song was over. I guess even as a big six year old mommy is still his safe harbor :-)

That was Thursday, and that night we did our normal birthday dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. We all ate way too much, including appetizers, and then we had them do their birthday thing where they come out with a flan and put a huge colorful Sombrero on his his while singing loudly, then dip his nose in whipped cream and clap. He had been looking forward to this and asking about it since Ambrose's birthday dinner.

So he was super psyched to get his own public humiliation!

Friday I picked him up from school and we went out and bought his cake, and a balloon, and ate about a million free samples of food at the grocery store. Seriously, I don't know how they expect you to buy any food when they practically give you a full meal just from walking in the door! P picked an ice cream cake, since he doesn't like regular cake or any bready sweets really.

Saturday was party day, and as we had 5 kids coming over with seriously nothing planned, I rushed out to buy some party games. Nik, P and I set up the house, with an adult seating circle upstairs (let's face it, the grown ups come to chat!), a pinata filled with good candy hanging from the pergola, the table pulled out and set up with an array of snacks and drinks, and several little "game" stations downstairs with things like the game Go Fishing on one and a craft on another and "make your own candy necklaces" on another. We taped streamers over the snacks and balloons around the house, and also blew up punching balloons for the kids to casually play with.

So it was my first "kid" party (not baby or toddler) at my house and you know what?

It. Was. Awesome.

I would totally do it again in a heartbeat. The whole party was nothing but laughter and squealing in fun, the cost was low, the set up and clean up was pretty fast (I had the kids find and pop all the balloons for me!), and even the adults seemed to have a great time. The only thing that surprised me was how much the kids loved the chickens! They all gathered the eggs for me, just because, and I had to make them all wash their hands haha! I got this close to setting up Mario Kart on the Wii for the kids to play together in a little Wii tournament, but I figured I'd save that as my secret weapon if the party went South. Never had to touch the TV! And given that we're talking kids in the 5-8 range, they were all kind and respectful and well behaved and, well, it was just a perfect number of kids and a perfect party. I think my favorite part is split between the pinata, which took just the right number of hits to break and was a huge hit, and the end of the party after all the presents were opened when P took his new playdough toy out onto the deck (that stuff's not allowed anywhere near my carpets!) with all of the children and even though they were sugared up and excited they all sat quietly and played together wonderfully with the new toy. All the adults, including us, were in awe!

So his birthday is officially over, and he wasn't immediately bumped up to first grade so I won that argument, and he's a little mopey about the fact that it's over with but not depressed. Instead he's just psyched to fly his RC helicopter for its 5 minutes of battery charge and read his many new books and eat the leftover snacks.

So last year? I arranged 4 parties for my kids in 6 weeks time. This year just two. Last year I swore I'd never do something that that again. This year, I had a blast and I'd totally do the low-key at home party again. Guess I've learned my lesson :-) See? You can teach and "old mom" new tricks!

Paxton tends to think outside the box when it comes to his decorating skills...

Just A Moment

2011-11-13T10:21:00.000-08:00

We've been having some sleep issues in this house lately. What with a time change, a new big-boy bed and deciding that he'd like to hold it for the potty now, Mr. A has been waking up a lot at night and needing a lot of attention. To say we've been a bit tired would be an understatement, but we've been through things like this before and we know very well it's not forever and we'll all be sleeping again soon.

That being said, I did have a wonderfully delicious 8 hours last night, only to be woken up at 6:30 by Nik coming into our bedroom with Ambrose. The babe had woken up shortly after we'd gone to sleep, at 11, and Nik just spent the night in his room to tend to him when he woke. I took over and brought Ambrose downstairs so that Nik and Paxton could sleep.

While it was very tempting to turn on Laurie Berkner so Ambrose could dance while I woke up fully, I had already received a talking to from Paxton about how I shouldn't turn on the TV until he's awake since it always wakes him up. Fair enough.

So we sat on the floor together, flipping through books and looking at puzzles and playing with little light up toys that make music and stuff like that.

At one point, though, my little bean realized that he was hungry for breakfast.

"Bar?" he asked hopefully, pointing to the stairs which lead straight up to the kitchen.

I did a quick mental check of the cupboards.

"No, sweetie, no bar. We at the last one a couple days ago."

His whole face scrunched up, eyes close to tears, mouth contorting. His body was stiff and his fists clenched.

"Sooo baaaad!" he called out.

"You want a bar so bad?" I asked.

"Ya," he nodded, relaxing and starting to pout.

He sat down on my lap, leaning his head into my neck, and just breathed there for several seconds.

And suddenly...

It was like a flash, a vision, and image stuck in my mind.

My little boy no longer little, all grown up and asking for something and realizing he couldn't have it. Disappointment, sorrow, anger... so many emotions could follow, as they do in toddlers. But I could see my little boy, now a grown man, letting it roll off of him, controlling himself, changing his plan easily and readily.

I could see this tiny boy as an adult all too easily.

And as an adult, he won't need to me to cuddle him when he's disappointed that we're out of cereal bars, or when he bumps his head on the underside of the table, or when it's his brother's turn to play with a toy he wants. He'll be able to regulate it himself.

And so, I held him. I held this little man, all thirty pounds of him, as he lay against me sad and upset and trying to hold it in and seeking comfort to help make his world okay again.

And a minute later, he left my lap to sit on the floor. He picked up a toy and in the sweetest voice he called, "mama pay wiv me," which is somewhere between a statement and a command.

So we played and we cuddled and we ate cold cereal and leftover home fries and a couple hours later we went to the store together where I bought him a box of cereal bars, which he happily opened in the cart.

It's amazing to me that there was a time I was that little, a time my mother, my grandmother, my great grandmother, and all people on this Earth, were that little, that helpless. It's almost as amazing as the fact that one day he won't be so, one day he'll be big and strong and while he may still need me, it won't be for everything and anything. People start small and typically grow up. It's... amazing.

And I'm so, so, so incredibly lucky to be able to take part in it all.

Oh the deleting...

2011-11-11T10:46:00.000-08:00

K so I wrote this post and then realized later that I shouldn't have written this post. Not because it was in any way offensive, I don't think, mostly because it's 3 in the afternoon and I've been up 12 hours already and I think I'm pretty much saving all the brainings for my children and seriously like nothing was translating into words very well. So yeah. I deleted.

Anywho, nothing interesting to report over here. Year's moving too fast, P turns 6 next week, Ambrose is in a big boy bed and learning to go on the potty, something has broken into the chicken tractor twice now but the chickies are okay, seeing my brother and his kids tonight for the first time in over 4 years. Kids are taking successful naps but should be up soon. I feel like I should have done something during their nap, like take a nap myself, but did not work and wish I had but yay internet. Also yay backspace key bc my fingers are not agreeing with proper word making right now. Go go weekend yay!

In which I get a little TMI

2011-11-03T10:20:00.001-07:00

Hey, you know what stinks?

PMS. PMS stinks.

Also?

PMSing hardcore when there are full Halloween treat bags just sitting there.

I mean, seriously, normally I might have a few of the pieces of candy a day for a couple days and then just send it all with Nik to work and be like "seriously, just take it!" Sure I'd leave some for the kids and probably have them pick out what they'll be keeping, but otherwise it doesn't need to just sit there and look so, so, sooooooo good.

And it's not even that good, really.

It's like bite sized Twix and peanut butter Snickers and lots of weird, gooey, not-chocolate things that I won't even touch.

But I can't stop eating the chocolate.

Mmmmm, chocolate....

So anyway, you know what else sucks?

Wanting another child and getting your period.

Yeah, yeah, I know, we expect this every month and we can adopt again if we want and put our minds to it and we have that foster care thing to try and persue and I'm not exactly desperate for a pregnancy right at the moment but....

But I wouldn't *mind* if it happened. In fact, I'd be downright ecstatic. I might not be actively trying, no more temping or charting or planning ahead, but that doesn't mean I don't wish and hope and dream.

Because it could happen.

The basic ingredients are all there, even if they're in shorter supply than they should be.

And every month when I start to twinge and cramp a bit I do wonder, just for a minute, if maybe this is actually the month. Maybe it actually DID happen, maybe we beat the odds. I try not to, but I quickly add up 9 months in my head or on my fingers, just to see, just in case, which month I might, possibly, if it happened, potentially give birth in, then I try to wipe it from my mind and not think about it.

And then I start bleeding and that's all over and I get sad for a bit. Not the hardcore depressed I used to be, no crying or laying in bed staring at the ceiling, and my blues now are far more hormonal than emotional, and I swing upwards again very quickly.

The truth is... every month that it doesn't happen, is another month gone. Another down. Another month older. During our marriage our "possible due dates" have gone from July 2006 to July 2012, and yet still there has been no pregnancy to even begin the countdown. If it weren't for our children I think this fact, this 6 years since we first started TTC, would drive me utterly insane. Instead it's just... sad.

I know I shouldn't but sometimes, pretty much only on the first day of my period, I feel broken.

Women from all walks of life, all ages, all cultures, all situations, become pregnant so easily. They conceive and carry and birth without any real issue. I wonder what it would be like to decide you wanted to conceive a child with the person you love and to just do it and have it happen and just bask in it. Even if we were to ever conceive it wouldn't be like this. It would either be highly planned, ie with doctors involved, or unplanned in the "not trying not preventing" sense. We could never just make love with the semi-assurance that a baby will likely come of it.

I know it's not my "fault" and yet I can't help that feeling of helplessness, of failure, in my inability to do something that the vast majority of those around me can do. I'm not so much angered by it, nor does it stick with me all day. My friends announce pregnancies and go on about their babies to be and truthfully I'm 100% happy for them. I can handle big bellies and newborns and birth announcements and parties and it doesn't get to me. In a way I think having my children and being their mom has sort of buffered me in that way.

So outside influences... well, for the most part they don't get to me, except for extreme circumstances.

My sorrow is for me alone, for the lack of a baby in my belly, for the lack of a set due date, for the lack of that joyous moment of seeing two lines, that moment of telling my husband, children, family, friends, for being able to tell the world, for buying maternity clothes and going to prenatal appointments and feeling kicks from the inside... I have so, so much and I know it and I'm so incredibly thankful and grateful for it. But that doesn't stop me from hurting, just a little bit, just one day a month, when I realize that another month has passed and it still, after six years, has no happened for us.

Wheeew....

K, time for a peanut butter Snickers...

Name rant addendum

2011-11-01T19:19:00.000-07:00

K, so now I'm feeling all bad that I wrote insulting things about popular names. I think.

Iunno.

I've been riding high on sugar for like a week now. Halloween candy is totally awesome. Also Paxton was super sweet and got a ton of candy and told me that all the chocolate is for me. How can I pass that up? He's too sweet. And so is his candy. Yuuuummmm.

Aaaanywho...

I should mention that my own kid's names have been the subject of ridicule online in several places. Oh, the things that have been said, the judgments that have been made. Also, the day we got P's referral? The day we first heard his gorgeous, meaningful, and also very common Ethiopian name? We shared it with people. And what did they tell me on this most wonderous occasion? "Ew. You can change that right?" "You NEED to change that right away! He'll be teased!" "You have to give him a normal name. You don't want to send him into a business interview with that name do you?" "Teachers will treat him poorly if you keep that name! If you want him to do well in school he can't be named that!"

And of course everyone had "statistics" to back it up. Seriously? This is the age of Google, and if you want to find a study, paper, article, or statistic to back something up, you can. Just take the opinion you already have and only look at, and latch on to, that which agrees with it. I mean, seriously, *I* do it, why don't we all admit that we take statistics and studies more seriously when they agree with what we already believe to be true?

Anyway, yeah, that was my first taste of name hate.

So my own name, very common and popular and, IMHO, overused, is considered just fine for any (female) child. But a name like Tariku? Uh, yeah, I've met two people in the US who can pronounce that (other than Ethiopians or Ethiopian adoptive parents). It's TA-ri-ku, with the r sounding a bit like a d. He was called Tari (TA-ri) in Ethiopia and I can't tell you how close we came to keeping his name.

So why did we change it?

Well, I could give you the normal reasons like "this was our first child and we wanted the honor of naming him since we'd missed everything else" or the acceptable "we felt it best to give him an American name so that people wouldn't have trouble pronouncing it all the time" (which helps, yeah, but not the case). What it boils down to, though, is that one day I was sitting around and a voice popped up in my head and said "You're going to get a boy and you'll name him Paxton" and I just couldn't get that out of my head. We even had a couple other potential names, Solomon and Cassian, as well as a slew of baby name books handy, and we really did come close to just keeping with Tari, but he just... well, he was Paxton. And we kept Tariku as his middle name and he's allowed to go freely between them and he has my express permission to ask to be called Tariku permanently if he so chooses. But he says he likes Paxton. He may change that when he's a teenager and I can totally see him taking back his birthname legally on his 18th birthday (and I'll be there to celebrate with a cake that says "Happy Birthday Tariku!").

Anywho....

My fingers are numb and my brain is fried and this is getting me nowhere.

So let me just say this then:

I love my kids names and those were THE NAMES for them, for our own reasons. They're actually rather long, complicated stories that involved a lot of what ifs and that one perfect moment of THAT'S IT!!! And lots of second guessing afterwards but, that really was it and our minds were stuck and somehow, someway, both times we were absolutely stuck on a boy's name, certain of that name, before even knowing we were having a boy.

(should I mention now that we've had a girl name picked out for a year that we're both stuck on?)

So, the thing is.... The perfect name for your kid is the perfect name for your kid. If they don't like it they can change it, like Nik did, or they can grow into it, or they can adopt a nickname that they use full time, or go by initials or a middle name and use that if they work in a business environment.

What they do when they grow up is their choice.

But when they're born you're making the choice and the name that seems perfect is perfect.

Whether it's Jacob or Bear or Apple or Emily or Pilot or Liam or Honey or Lily or whatever.

Or Sophie, which is a name I'm perfectly enamored with but beyond being highly popular is also the name of several children I know which just makes it weird to me to give to my own child, like I'm stealing a name. Oh, but she's the main characters in Howl's Moving Castle... I like Howl too... wonder if I can sell Nik on that one. Howl Everett? Howell Everett? Naaaah... maybe middle names?

Okay, I'm about to pass out from cold, sleepiness, lack of company with Nik stuck uber late at work, and the sugar buzz wearing off.

So I think my point is this: You give your kid their name because that seems right to you, due to whatever factors seem important like:
-family members
-the way it sounds
-who you did or didn't know with the same name
-real or fictional people or places with that name
-what sort of life you see for them (business office? Freelance photographer?)
-your last name
-your own experience with names
-how popular/unique it is
-culture of origin for you or child or ancestors
-influence from friends or children around you
-cultural attachments
-a bajillion other factors

And everyone else does it the same way. Some people are pretty much handed a name if these factors don't mean much to them, others toil away at choosing a name for years.

But not everyone is picking a name for the same reason you would pick a name, nor do they have the same factors.

A name that sounds crazy and pulled out of nowhere to you might be the name the parent has loved since 5th grade due to... some reason. A name that's uber popular might be uber popular for a reason, such as a good meaning, nice sound, and close family members with the same name. A Caucasian middle class parent giving their child and ethnic name might have strong ties to that culture and name and not just be trying to be "trendy," and even if they are that's still their decision.

What gets me, really, is just this name hate and how defensive people get over their right to judge, declaring that the parents are dumb and selfish for forcing such hideous names on children. Seriously, unless you live in their family, in their culture, in their town, go to their work, their place of worship, know their family history, their ties to this name, and know for a fact that others of the same name have fared worse than those with names you yourself have chosen.... yeah, I don't think you have any right to judge. And yeah, that goes for Pilot Inspektor and Audio Science too. And Apple. I mean, seriously, it was in baby name books far before Apple Martin was born, it's not like she's the first, or last, and it's not like names have always been homogenous.

Okay, back hurting, time to pass out asleep and dream of Reese's Cups and the strict diet I'm going to have to (attempt to) go on starting the end of the week....

Night y'all.

A quick rant about names...

2011-11-01T09:43:00.000-07:00

Okay, why, WHY, do I bother going to "baby name" forums? I mean, seriously, I LOVE names. I love the histories of names, the reasons people have for giving their child a certain name, I love unusual names and classic names and, well, just names.

What I do not love, however, is name judgment.

Since I'm too much of a wuss to create an account, log in, and say this to people directly...

Seriously, y'all, get over yourselves.

Just because you don't like a name does not mean a child will be bullied because of it. So you can make a silly rhyme with it, so what? It sounds like a body part? It's "ethnic"? It has a "youneek" spelling? So. Flipping. What?

Seriously, okay, my name is Megan. The most typical spelling of one of the most popular names of my generation. I grew up with several other Megans in my class and because of it I always had a secondary label, like Megan M or Megan #3 or Brown Haired Megan or Megan Who Sits On The Left.

And don't even get me started on those dang blasted "personalized" pencils/stationary pads/mini license plates/hair clips/etc! People with uncommon names got actual personalized gifts on vacation or from relatives. I got pencils that said Megan. A LOT of them.

So no, no, I'm not in any way all about giving my child a common name. I hated having a common name and honestly? It never felt like MY name because of it, just some label stamped on me that didn't really fit. I'll respond to it, sure, but it doesn't feel in any way special or "mine."

Oh, and here's the kicker: My name was so, so, SO wicked popular, and also so simple to spell and pronounce.

And for my entire life I've been correcting the spelling and pronunciation.

Oh, and I was teased because of my name. The kids wanted to tease me (semi jokingly, as they were sort of friends) so they came up with a rhyme anyway even though it didn't make sense. I did the same to my cousin with his common name as well. They didn't need to sound like a bodily function or fictional character, if a child wants to make a dumb rhyme they'll do it.

But, hey, you know what? I've spoken to other people, children and adults, with rare, unique, or even "ugly" names, and you know what they say? They LOVE their names, they feel more individual because of their names, they stand out and are proud of their names, they love being able to be known by their first names alone and they would certainly give their own children unique names.

And so, here's my point:
When you are posting on a baby name forum, blog, or even writing a book and you are giving naming advice and literally bashing names and the parents who choose said names... you are being a jerk. A bully. YOU are the people who would think less of a person and their family because of a name choice.

When you are deriding a use of "cutesy" nicknames as a first name you are forgetting names like my own, Megan, which are in the truest sense only a nickname being used as a first name (and for some reason people still take me seriously). When you groan about how new spellings of older names are becoming popular, you are forgetting that very, very few of the names we have now started out in the spelling we have (I mean, seriously, who spells Guenevere like "Jennifer"?). When you joke about names from other cultures and how "we" (white people) shouldn't use them, honey, that's just discriminatory and there's no reason "our" names are okay for all other races and yet "their" names aren't just as good for us. When you laugh at people giving a child the name of a person from a book... uh, yeah, Bible much? And then there's names like Wendy, which were created only for a fictional tale. Oh, and when you're making fun of "feminizing" very masculine names for a girl? You're making fun of my mom. You don't want to make fun of my mom. She will mess you up :-P

(Hi mom!)

So am I not bothered by what other people name their children?

Well, I do take a bit of an issue with naming a child a super, super, over-popular name JUST SO that child won't be teased. Congrats, bullies, you have already won the battle while they child was still in the womb! I have to admit I'm also a bit put off by people giving their children that same over-popular name and not knowing how popular it is, as if it's a shock years later when they discover that it was #1 that year. I mean, the charts for top 1,000 names are available online readily so I don't know how people can be unaware of the popularity of their children's names. In our case, P's name was rising in popularity but now appears to be skyrocketing, and we've already met a few other Paxtons. But he was #777 on the top 1,000 list the year we named him. He's still the only one in his school at least! And, again, he's known by first name only (and boy does he LOVE his name!).

Okay, so this rant is getting me nowhere, just kind of a mental dump.

I guess I should finish this by stating that a blog I've recently started following had a post about what not to name your baby, poking fun at names just for laughs. I wasn't laughing. Poking fun at baby names is tantamount to poking fun at real people, and then declaring that someone else will bully them because "children are so cruel"... Um, no, you're the cruel one. I see people listing names from their children's classes, from hospital birth announcements, from their friends and families, just to laugh at them, and feeling fully justified. And I'm mortified and disgusted.

I'll probably rant about this again. It's just... seriously? You really think naming a child something like, iunno, Urijah, is setting him up for failure? I've met so many people with similar names (Yuri (m & f), Uri, Uriah) and no, they aren't teased, and yes people do take their names seriously. Really? Get. Over. It.

Ugh.

Motherhood in Pictures

2011-10-31T11:05:00.001-07:00

I suppose I could take snapshots all throughout the day. Images of all of us grumping around in our jammies trying not to walk into walls while bustling about to change diapers and cook breakfast and load backpacks and diaper bags and laptop bags.

I suppose I could show endless piles of laundry, cleaning the table, setting the table, cooking a meal, cleaning up from the meal, dishes piled in the sink while the dishwasher works on the previous load we'd forgotten to start...

I could show time outs and being stuck in traffic on the way to pick up and child from preschool or realizing I forgot coats at home when little boys start to shiver. I could show mini arguments, temper tantrums, and the whole hullabaloo of trying to get two small children down to sleep in two separate rooms, sometimes by myself, when both just want to cuddle and play.

But you know what? All these things, these normal parenthood, totally highlighted by every sitcom and mommy blog things? They're just a part of life. Like breathing and getting gas and keeping the lawn mowed. They're the regular, the mundane, the whatever, and even then? Even then it's not too hard to see the magic in those regular moments.

That first cuddle of the day. The brothers sharing their breakfast then running off to laugh and play. The smiles and hugs. The laughter. It's all throughout these moments. So the bad isn't so bad, and is in fact actually pretty wonderful.

And the good? Is incredible.

Presenting, in no real order, some recent random snapshots of my own experience in motherhood.

A moment of silence and rumination in the middle of a busy day.

The unceremonious death of a pumpkin, first mysteriously smashed and then entertainingly mauled by a group of scavenging chickens.

A ham for the camera, with a new mask.

A mummy and his mommy go on a date to the kid's museum Halloween party.

A visit to somewhere we've been countless times lends to a surprising discovery: a lovely little snack nook that we had never noticed before.

Laughter that lasts so long I have time to take a picture.

Helping my mother recover from surgery by entertaining her dog and giving her cuddles.

Anything can be a hat.

Sharing is caring, even if you are only distracting your baby brother with a brightly covered object so you can snatch, and hide, all the Skittles with your other hand.

You know it's one of my boys when he runs away and hides.... just so he can "read" a book.

Entertaining themselves during the wait before Trick or Treating at the nursing home.

And now the little on is up, so I'm done. Time to change a diaper, put away a couple loads of laundry, start dinner, clean the chicken coop, and run the dishes :)

A day of race...

2011-10-27T17:17:00.000-07:00

A somewhat local science museum has a new exhibit up, one that's been touring the country, about race. I went to the museum with Ambrose today and got to check out the exhibit but only briefly. It's definitely something I'll be going back to see, and perhaps next time I'll just walk Ambrose around until he takes his nap in his stroller, allowing me to read and watch the videos.

Of course, seeing the snippets that I did got me thinking about race, how it defines so many of us (if not all), and how it affects so much (if not all) of our society. Also, when I'm at this particular museum I tend to think about race anyway. The city I live in is quite diverse, and aside from some areas I tend to find that wherever we got there is such a mix of races, and our whole family is met so warmly, that I forget about race entirely. Families like ours are common here, and every place from the playgrounds to the libraries, to the children's museum and so on contains such a variety of people from different races, ethnic groups, cultures, countries, etc.... It's beautiful and wonderful.

And yet this other museum, which I love, is typically far more... um, pale. Like, I see a LOT of white people and many pale skinned Asian people, and sometimes a transracial adoptive family with a white parent. Sometimes there will be a school group with an African American student or two, and sometimes you might even see one family of African Americans. But that's usually it. Despite the fact that I don't notice our individual races in my own city, when I'm one city over I can certainly feel the difference.

Today we ate lunch in the cafe of the museum, which serves awful food but, eh, it's convenient. A family came over to sit near me and Ambrose. A grandmother, mother, and two children. I want to say they were Chinese since I'm pretty certain they were speaking Mandarin, but I wasn't exactly eavesdropping and obviously I don't know them so I don't know their history.

What I do know is that when the grandmother came over the claim the table she was carrying the younger child, a boy about A's age, in her arms. And the look she gave to Ambrose...

Then the mother came over, looked at our family quickly and a bit warily, but set the food down anyway. I saw them exchange glances and heard them say... something. In a language I don't know. But it's not the first time we've received odd looks, though it is rare.

Then... the other child, a little girl around 4, came around the corner to get to her seat. She saw Ambrose. And that child... backed away. She was scared. There was honest to God fear in her eyes. A child was frightened of my dark skinned toddler, who was smiling and waving and calling "Hello Friend!" from his seat as he ate cheese fries, getting himself all messy and gooey.

The mother kept looking at Ambrose nervously but called the girl over and tried to calm her down and help her slide past my son. I saw both the mother and grandmother trying to say something to her, sort of a "don't be scared, it's not a big deal."

And it hit me... This may be a revelation for them. They truly seemed like they did not expect the little girl's reaction.

It just... well, it broke my heart. Because my happy, vivacious, social little boy just kept waving and smiling and telling me what his "friend" was doing.

I tried to ignore it, told myself that they were not speaking English and were possibly visiting from their home country where perhaps they had never seen anyone who looked like Ambrose up close. Perhaps this was a first experience and they truly did not expect what they saw.

But before we left the little girl started to complain to her mother about her apple juice. I know this because the girl spoke perfect American English. ... yeah.

*****

So that weighed heavily on my heart and mind all day, and it's a PMS sorta day so it probably weighed more than it should.

Tonight we went trick or treating at my grandmother's nursing home. I was not really looking forward to it. On the one hand, it's hard to see my grandmother. The exuberant, happy, "second mother" to me has wasted away to a twig of a person who hasn't recognized me in 10 years, though she'll happily hold a conversation with me. On the other hand, the kids didn't get much sleep last night and they were so, so tired. And so was I. The thought of keeping them out late to run around a totally overstimulating environment and collect candy... oh, I was so not in the mood. But it only comes once a year...

So we went.

And I'm very, very glad we did.

Because again, race was on my mind.

And this time?

This time I saw very, very old people, Southern people who lived through the Civil Rights Movement, who saw desegregation, who saw the entire concept of race change throughout their lives. There were people of many races and nationalities in the home, all living in their rooms side by side, happy and smiling at the children. And what really got to me was the thought that some of the same men joking with my children, some of the same women petting their hands and stroking their cheeks, would probably not have even thought of doing such a thing to these very same children when they were my age.

I walked into the rooms of people who had spent their life in privilege due to race at a time when race, more than anything, determined your fate. People who likely attended white pools or drank from white fountains or went to white schools. People who saw my children and smiled these huge, incredible smiles and reached down for them just to feel their soft skin and hear their innocent words, people who felt nothing but love for them, even in that brief instant. And it shocked me, the power of it all. How many of these same kind people had performed unkind acts? How many had said unkind things? How many benefited from the pain of others? How many didn't agree with what they saw around them, but went along with it anyway so as not to disturb the peace? And how many are so, so happy to see how the world is changing? Unless I interview them, personally, I'll never know will I?

What I do know is this: When Nik was taking a walk through the halls with Ambrose a woman stopped him to ask about A. Nik said that A was our son, that we had adopted him, and the woman was blown away! Nik tells me she was outright ecstatic. Her own sister had married a black man in 1947 and, given the racial climate, they had run away to Mexico to be together. The woman is trying to get in contact with that side of her family now, find her sister or her sister's children. The US has changed a lot in 64 years. Such a short time when you think about it....

I'm so glad we went tonight, if only because we gave this one woman hope. Hope that our country really is changing, and has changed so much, so that now we really can love each other openly regardless of race. Yes, we still have a long way to go but man have we come far!

****

And with that... I leave to finally go clean the dishes. Kids are asleep in their beds, Nik finishing up some work, and The Office will be on in 15 minutes. Ah, it's a good night :-)

Public School, take one

2011-10-22T05:17:00.000-07:00

I'm sure this won't be the first time I talk about P's school, but I've had several little thoughts lately that I just wanted to get down.

First off, let me say right out that we were dead set on homeschooling. Like, had a home school group, had a membership to Enchanted Learning, I was doing "lessons" daily at home that I tracked with a teacher's book, we still have a "lesson's table" with a roll under storage container full of supplies and a small bookcase near it full of skills books and children's fact books. We did excursions with other homeschool bound families, joined message boards, laughed at HS jokes, and it even played a part in our search for a house. We chose our neighborhood for several reasons, such as diversity, relative security, no HOA, great location, park within walking distance, not too far from Nik's work(s), and... not the school. In fact, the school was one of the poorest rated in Raleigh, and we were fine with that. It kept housing costs low, and it would pretty much guarantee that we'd follow through with our HS plans.

And then life hit us.

And while some of our friends in the HS group have gone on to home school successfully, we were not one of them.

Now let me say that I'm still all about homeschooling. I love being able to tailor your curriculum to your child, and to your family in general. I love knowing that children can get enough food and rest and down time, that they can explore the natural world all day, that the family can take field trips whenever, that history is taught in such a way as makes sense to the family. I love knowing that a child is challenged, not forced, and that they can learn different subjects at their own speed. And seriously? Home schooling is absolutely still on the table, still something we think about and still something we may do in the future should we see a need to do it.

And yet... we found that traditional schooling worked best for our older son.

One thing I always said, and that I hold true to, is that when it comes to my children I will shove aside my hopes and my ideals if it benefits them.

And when our first (wonderful, incredible, God sent) counselor strongly suggested preschool for P, no not a HS group, but actual, 5 morning a week preschool.... it HURT.

I felt like a failure to the Nth degree.

Thing was, while my child was learning from me academically and soaking it up like a sponge, he really had to learn how to be a "normal child." And as a child who did not have a normal first few years of life, he did not have the basis of simply knowing how to be a normal, happy kid.

In short... we put P in school because of social skills.

Yeah, we were told that our home school bound child wasn't getting enough socialization, the biggest myth of home schooling, and we realized that, in our case, it was true. And it was hurting him and hurting our family and hurting all of our relationships. I was frustrated with him all the time, he was frustrated without constant, every day playmates and every relationship in our house was strained (except for everyone's relationship to the new little baby in our family, Ambrose, because man did we all adore him!).

So he went to a carefully chosen school that stays very, very close to our ideals.

And he thrived there in a way I could never have imagined!

Thing is, with our kid, he NEEDS people and he NEEDS stability.

A once a week home school group is nice and all, but he needs the same children every day, the same activity repeated over and over. And his preschool provided that.

And now, his Kindergarten is providing that...

*****************

So with that very long background story out of the way...

Let me just say that I was so, so uncertain about his elementary school.

I mean, when we chose this house we were absolutely certain that we wouldn't even consider this awful, failing school with a horrid reputation. It was the exact opposite of what we wanted for our child!

And yet, in the 3 years between writing that school off and enrolling him for Kindergarten in it, a lot has changed.

The school became a Magnet school, the first in the area focusing on Engineering. This means that while my child gets to learn normal public school things he also gets to spend a lot of time building, thinking, working with different technologies, and learning more math than your average kindergartner. The school teaches the children how to work solo and in a group setting, how to be a leader, how to think outside the box, how to use all available materials, how to change plans halfway... these are all things he's learning now in bits and pieces that will be reinforced over and over.

On top of what we think is actually a really awesome curriculum, the school has been given grants, new teachers, new administrative staff, and resources galore. All schools in this county are struggling, but ours is actually faring pretty well.

On top of that we have:
-Kindergarten classes with one teacher, one every day TA who is just as involved (both qualified and caring), and a class size of 15-18 though they capped it at 16 this year.
-A principal who greets students at the door and is working to know everyone's name. (one who we've heard was brought over due to his incredible work in other schools)
-The principal, teacher, and TA all hug my child when he's coming in or leaving for the day, smiling happily and calling him by name.
-The school is small, intimate, and full of happy faces and bright pictures.
-There are several playgrounds, and all of the children have recess, even the 5th graders (rare in this area to have recess after 1st grade).
-An extra Kindergarten teacher who rotates between the 5 kindy rooms to help teach math.
-Extra work and challenges for students who are excelling.
-No PTA, but they're organizing one right now and the principal has sworn that we will not use this for fundraising, but instead will try to get all families involved with their children's education.
-Computers in the classroom with P's teacher's class website up, tailored to their class, updated frequently, full of interactive academic games and songs, accessible at home.
-The ability and encouragement for parents to volunteer frequently in the classroom.
-Constant and easy communication, teacher and principal initiated.
-A home visit to our house by both the teacher and the TA just to "get to know" P's back story and our family.
-And to top it off, a school lunch menu that typically contains a vegetarian option most days, and frequently serves local NC products.

So yeah... not perfect, no, but my son is happy and we're happy and actually beyond impressed. We had a LOT of worries, a lot of second guessing, a lot of "well, maybe I'll sign back up to the HS group just in case." And it's worked out great so far.

One interesting thing of note though...
A few weeks ago P's teacher sent out an email to me and another student's mother saying that our boys were the top students in the class and that they'd been getting extra challenges in class and they were also getting extra homework at night just to work on those extra skills. Of course, I'm happy to hear this but I assumed part of their quick success in Kindy had to do with preschool experience (though P's was not an academic preschool but one focusing mainly on social skills) and with age, given that P will be 6 next month and the other child just turned 6 as well, with many of the students being almost a year younger. So not a big deal, and it could all even out in a few months anyway.

There was an open house on Thursday, 5-7, with hour long presentations by the teachers in their classrooms (one at 5, one at 6). We wanted to get the kids fed and in bed on time so Nik left work early and we went to the 5 o'clock presentation. Imagine my surprise when, out of 16 students in the class, there were only 2 families present for the first presentation: our family and the family of the other top student. Two more families showed up halfway through and seemed more... awkward? More uncomfortable in the school setting. Not asking questions or looking through the student books or anything. I just kept thinking, is there something more to this "top student" thing than just age?

I mentioned it to my mother in passing, and she just sighed and said that was her experience exactly. "You wouldn't believe how many times I'd show up for a teacher presentation and be one of two moms who showed up, both of us with the top students!" Hmmm... makes you think...

The Cute Contest

2011-10-19T16:17:00.001-07:00

I swear I think my boys are competing to see who's the cutest....

There's Ambrose who, watching his daddy leave for work, waves and yells "bye bye!" And when I tell him we can go watch daddy out the window he grabs my finger with his fat little hand and with huge bright eyes calls out "togever!" and pulls me to the window, where he yells out a joyous "hello!" as soon as I open it.

Then there's Paxton, who has become entranced with the idea of "heart cords," invisible cords that tie your heart to the hearts of people you love. I forget which story it's from, but the point was that the hearts of everyone on Earth are tied together this way, because we all love or are loved by someone, usually many peopl. Yesterday in the car he became so happy telling me how his heart was connected to me AND Ambrose AND daddy, and then more family, and then his teacher, and then his classmates, and then... well, and so on and so forth. His eyes closed tight, a huge smile on his face, his voice cracking as he broke into squeals, proclaiming how many heart cords he had and how he loved so many people and they loved him and how happy he was, so happy he could just burst. Yeah, that's my sweet boy :)

Back to Ambrose, who since our visit to the zoo on Sunday keeps staring out the dining room window asking if a seal will come whizzing by. "Seal? Seal comin'? Where seal?"

And Paxton again, who had to draw "a group of 8" for his homework, and who chose to draw 8 happy little snowmen with big smiles themselves, to match his own as he drew them.

Ambrose, who loves the quilt my mother made him for his birthday and who will ask me now not to cuddle him to sleep but instead to put him in his bed where he pulls the quilt up high around him, cuddles himself in, and smiles as he whispers, "goo' niiiight."

Paxton, who is upset over the death of Charlotte in Charlotte's Web, but even more than that upset that a book he really enjoyed is over. He's just not getting into Matilda and wants his daddy to stop reading it to him so we can move on to the next book on our list, Trumpet of the Swan. The reason he wants to move on? Trumpet of the Swan is another book by E. B. White, the man who wrote Charlotte's Web, and yes my five year old understands authors and has a preference for writing style.

Ambrose, who will not wear shoes or socks in the car anymore and will toss them at my head with a laugh should I forget to take them off before we start driving.

Paxton, who was instructed to wear "something fancy" by his teach for school picture day, and who was not pleased when I refused to let him go to school in his new Iron Man/War Machine Halloween costume. "But mom, it's the fanciest thing I have!"

Ambrose hearing me say, "hello sweetie!" to a cute chicken at the State Fair and proceeding to grab my face and start whispering the same to me. Several wonderful minutes of a tight face hug and, "hello sweetie!" over and over again in that voice he uses when he's mimicking me.

Paxton realizing he's riling my feathers on the walk home from school and getting close to losing his trip to Chuck-E-Cheese, and quickly correcting the matter by carefully rewording the lyrics to "You are my Sunshine" and singing them to me with such emotion... He had a great time at Chuck-E-Cheese.

The boys running with each other at the zoo, laughing and racing, slowing down for the other, then running ahead, pure bliss and giggles.

The boys dancing to Laurie Berkner, singing together, looking at books quietly in the backseat and somehow trading at some point so that P has the baby board book and A has the Level 2 reader.

Ambrose hurting Paxton and being put in his crib for it, crying out "I sorry, I sorry!" as Paxton cries at his door begging, "Mom, please don't punish him, he's a good baby and he didn't mean to hurt me!"

And the boys hugging to make it all better then smiling as they go back to playing.

Yeah, I think it's a tie. My big boy who still asks for huggles, and my little boy who calls for his mama first thing in the morning.

Of course, when they find this in 10 years they'll both swear I made it all up, but even so, they're my cutie pies now and forever :)

My great little P :)

2011-10-17T11:13:00.000-07:00

A blogger I've been following for a few years recently had a post in which she shared a "glimpse" of their life with their older daughter, who has RAD. She doesn't write about this often, and is mostly a photo blogger, but in the past when she's given little stories about her, well... I could relate. No, not to the same extent, as we really only had a taste of attachment disorder. And that taste was enough for me to feel such sympathy for this family and all they are going through, and will continue to go through.

And yet, when I was reading this latest little post... I couldn't help but realize that, for the first time, I did NOT relate. I could NOT relate to this. Because this isn't our family anymore.

Because my son is attached now.

I mean, yeah, he started to become attached pretty early. He gripped to us, his newest caregivers, for a long time while still not trusting us. And we've spent many hours, perhaps even hundreds by now, playing attachment games and having long talks and pressing our chests together to share love from our hearts and being careful not to phrase things certain ways and coming up with stories meant to work out past trauma and... well, you get the point. And when it list it all "hundreds of hours" actually seems like an estimate on the small side.

When reading this post, though, and thinking about my almost-six-year-old boy I realized something wonderful: we're done.

We're attached.

Fully.

Wow.

I mean, seriously, we still have long talks and we'll still keep an eye out for things that could trigger past trauma and such but...

Wow.

Because, you see, P's heart is now... well, it's his namesake. Pax. Peace. Peaceful.

He still gets cranky when he's tired, but now he'll actually tell us he's tired and he's sleeping later and later because he's no longer worried that I've died at night. When did this happen? How did I not notice this?

And he's in control of his public persona. We went to a birthday party and he was right up there with the other kids being as well behaved as any other excited small child, nothing but happiness and smiles.

And he's a top student. And he's working hard. And he not only controls himself well in public, but actually corrects his own behavior when it goes badly. And he apologizes for things easily, gives love easily, accepts love easily, trusts, hopes, believes...

He's self confident, and on days he's sad he'll tell you the reason, even if he has to sit and think about it, and then he'll ask for whatever he thinks will make it better, because he trusts that we really do want to make it better.

When did this happen? What one, wonderful, magical day did this light turn on? When was the thick bridge connecting us finally finished?

Oh, sure, there are times he can still be a total bum. He IS an almost-six-year-old boy now, and if a forty year old man can get away with having grumpy days and feeling "off" then we should certainly expect it from a child. And when he's tired his SPD can come out, but for the first time in his life he's actually noticing when he's tired and asking for rest, a HUGE if not monumental development that my sleep deprived self has been hoping for for the past almost 4 years.

I'm in awe of this boy, this happy, intelligent, normal little boy. The little boy who is reading and writing and learning math and singing and dancing and drawing the most detailed and fun little pictures. The little boy who greats me with a sleepy hug every morning, who rushes up to me when school is over with wonderful tales of his day, who picks me flower after flower on the walk home "to make you happy mama!", who will give me attitude and yet still fall into a fit of giggles when I make light of the situation, who sets the table and puts up his laundry and feeds his fish every morning without being asked.

My sweet, sweet older son who blows me away every day.

Also? He's a total ham. :)

The crazy world of Mommy Land

2011-10-11T09:56:00.000-07:00

Just some snippets from my daily life:

-When I tell Ambrose to close a door he becomes frightened, runs to the door, and slams it as fast as he can crying out "EMU COMIN'!!!" Gotta watch out for that pesky emu now.

-P had a dream the other day. He was being chased by an evil robot and his teacher drove over, plopped him in his car, and drove him to a carnival for safety. But the robot was still coming! Paxton even turned into an ice cream cone and hid in a plastic bag but the robot was STILL COMING!!! This is a very serious story he's told us several times now, and it is not to be laughed at. Not even a chuckle. Or you'll get a talking to.

-Last night he had another dream, about daddy lions going after him. I'm going to guess that school anxiety is causing a bit of fear that's coming out in his subconscious maybe?

-Today at lunch Ambrose told me he was done eating and wanted to play. I reiterated that he could be done eating, but I was not done eating and I would not be getting down to play with him. He could either stay and eat beside me, play by himself near me, or go to his crib for his nap. Everything seemed to be going just swell. Half a minute later and he's standing on the floor shrieking "cuddle! CUDDLE!!!" while I try my best to calmly explain his options again. Half a minute after that, I'm starting to lose my temper and I have to work to keep my voice calm and continue eating my lunch while he rolls around in hysterics because I will not come to play with him. Half a minute after that, I try to place him in his crib but he runs as fast as his little legs can carry him to the toy bin screaming, "Noooo! Plaaaay!" Half a minute after that and he's beside me shrieking and pulling at my clothes and I've pretty much lost it and have started ranting about how sick I am of having to eat my lunch at 2:20 in the afternoon and how dizzy I get and how tired I am and how I just want to eat my freaking lunch and you knew your options and I AM SO PUTTING YOU IN YOUR CRIB AND LEAVING YOU THERE MISTER! Half a minute after that and he's sitting on my lap happily eating my lunch. *Sigh*

-Paxton is reading everything and anything that he can find. It's awesome, and slightly frightening. We bought Apples to Apples Junior (for ages 9+) and he sits there reading the cards and making a choice as to which noun fits the adjective best. It makes me yearn for my college game night days... but it also makes me a bit psyched for our family game nights coming soon :)

-Also? He knows the words to the Nicki Minaj song Super Bass. "Somebody please tell him who the F I is!" I think I may have to stick to the classical station.

-Ambrose has started to use the words: Tomorrow, Tonight, Soon, Later, Sometime, Afternoon. "Candy?" "No, baby." "Later? Tonight?" "Um, sometime..." "Tomorrow please!"

-He also tells knock knock jokes. He started with "MOOOM! Nockanock!" "Who's there?" "Appo!" "Apple who?" "Apposaaaaaauce!!!" Now it's typically a derivation of this. "Moooom! Moooommmyyy!!!" "Yes?" "KNOCK KNOOOOOCK!" "Who's there?" "Apposauce!" "Apple sauce who?" "Apposauce David Bwenna Baby Sam Dip Chip Apposauce David! Ha ha!" Seriously, sometimes it's like a whole paragraph. And his knock knock jokes still make far more sense than Paxton's...

-I caught P pick up a chicken and throw her at another one, just to see what they'd do. He was gentle about it at least. I still had to open the window and scream, "Paxton, we do not bowl with chickens!" When he looked confused I elaborated with "we do not pick up chickens and then proceed to throw said chicken into another chicken!" He got it then and said, "oh, sorry!" and went about his business. While I had a "wait, did I just say that?" moment.

-Last night I went to a PTA organizational meeting. P's school's PTA has been inactive for 3 years and the new principal is really trying to turn the school around. It's been a struggling school for a long time but the county is pouring lots of money and resources into it and it shows! There was a huge turnout last night, almost filled the tiny cafeteria, and I was glad to go. Nik stayed home with the kids and as I left Ambrose started to panic and freak out. I figured he'd calm down. But no, it was another one of his 30+ minute panic attack tantrums and Nik could not calm him down. So he called me. Several times. I had to leave the meeting and of course I'm like "OMG I've missed 2 calls and he's calling me again SOMEONE MUST BE DEAD!" But no, he answers with "hey, honey, how are you doing?" in a sunny voice. I could have killed him. He then tells me that A is crying and puts him on the phone. Apparently Nik's phone can't handle the baby shrieks because it sounded a lot like someone crinkling paper. I was left in the awkward position of not knowing whether I should hang up on my baby, who I couldn't possibly help this way, so that I could return to a very important meeting, or if I should just wait it out. Finally Nik got back on the line and I told him, "Look, just give him ice cream! ICE CREAM! It will solve this." And it did and by the time I got home everyone was in a great mood and A was perfectly happy to eat his dinner with me. Or at least his new dinner, since P had already eaten A's actual dinner.

-P's birthday party is coming up and he's decided to have it at Chuck E Cheese again. He's also decided to invite his cousins. Before I could interject with, you know, logic, he said "no no no, mom, just listen! They can take a plane from Maine to Raleigh, and it's okay! It's okay! Because I will WAIT for them! I won't start my party until they get here! It will be very late at night but that's okay because I want my cousins to come!" I swear my heart broke for him just a little. "Oh, sweetie, that's so nice... I just don't think--" "And then they can go and sleep at the airport! I hope they like airport food!"

Out of our hands...

2011-10-10T11:25:00.000-07:00

The application is filled out, signed, dated, sealed up, return addressed, and in the mail box.

The postman, a nice middle aged gentle man who always waves and smiles at my children and wishes me a good day, should be by within the hour.

And he'll see the little red flag and even if he doesn't have anything for us today he'll stop.

And he'll take this little envelope, so light, so small, and he'll add it to all the others.

It will go to the post office.

It will be sent to Human Services.

It will be opened, filed, and entered into their system.

And hopefully, hopefully, we'll be called or emailed or even snail mailed and told that we can start classes in January.

*****

I've mailed off so much in our quest to build our family.

Applications for homestudies, referral services, placement services.

I've sent huge checks, photo albums, home studies, profiles, updates, huge thick packets and questionaires.

But there's nothing quite like that first mailing...

That first, real, physical item, that thing you can touch, take a picture of, hold in your hand.

Nothing like the first time you sign your name, knowing that if this works you'll be signing it dozens more times on all sorts of paperwork.

I know this journey might lead nowhere, like our quest to adopt from Ethiopia again, or the DRC, or domestic through a referral service. I know it might seem right now then not seem right in the future. I know this all too well.

But it's a step in *some* direction, perhaps the right one, and that does make it momentous doesn't it?

And so, in that vein, I think I should eat the last of the birthday cake. I mean, seriously, I just did a momentous thing right? Right? So I totally deserve to party with (a tiny sliver of two day old) cake, while I'm relaxing (and the kids aren't here to steal it from me)!

Huzzah for steps!

And Godspeed little envelope. I'm praying you make it where you're supposed to...

There's an App for that

2011-10-09T17:14:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not trying to make a joke about Steve Jobs. In fact, I have to say I started to cry when I read about his passing (on my iPhone near an Apple store), but had to struggle to compose myself as I was out with Ambrose and he was just having such a happy time and I didn't want to bring it down. Knowing his family history (ie, adopted as an infant) makes him seem far more inspiring to me, and knowing the mark he's left on the world (ie, potentially changing the course of man kind via the PC and smart phone) just stuns me. His passing is sad, and yet he left an undeniable mark and he will not be forgotten.

That being said, back to that app thing...

So I'm pretty much done filling out our app(lication) for foster care. Nik's going to finish up his part, we'll look it over and sign it, and it'll probably go out in the mail tomorrow and be filed away by the end of the week. Hopefully within the next couple weeks we'll receive confirmation that it was received. And, with all hope, we'll be able to take their next MAPP classes come January.

It's daunting when I look at it...

Waiting a few months and then, right when it's crunch time for Nik and work, we'll be taking 3 hour classes twice a night. My mother has already agreed to babysit, which the boys will love, but I'm sure she'll need a vacation once the classes are over!

Then we get interviews and a homestudy (again! A fourth one!) and the fire marshall (!!) gets to check out our house and there's probably a lot more.

Timing is all over the place. It took one friend of mine 13 months to get licensed! They estimate 6-9 months, but does that count the wait until classes start, or is that from the time classes end, or what? Will we be ready to go next June? Or next December?

And then there's the space and vehicle issue. We have 5 (small) bedrooms, 3 upstairs all in use and 2 downstairs which are mostly just holding junk. And we both own sedans.

If we say "only an infant coming available for adoption" then we could put the boys in one room (like we're planning anyway) and we can fit 3 carseats across the back.

Or we could say "we're open to sibling groups with minor needs coming available for adoption" and look through a bazillion profiles and bring in children, perhaps "older", and have to buy a van and move around bedrooms.

I can see it so many ways. P and A in the bunkbed and an infant asleep in the nursery. Or P downstairs with an older child in bunkbeds, and A upstairs also in bunkbeds with a slightly younger child and a toddler in the next room (OMG how crazy would that drive us???). Or P downstairs rocking his first grade bachelor pad while A sleeps in the same nursery and two new children take up P's current room. Or everything as it is now with a little baby in a bassinet in our room. And with only one kid the sedans are fine. But if we're open to siblings do we just go ahead and buy the minivan? Or do we wait until we know for sure?

Ugh!

So much to think about!

And for the first time we're actually glad for the wait, glad for the classes and the interviews and the time period. No, maybe I won't feel that way when it's a year from now and we're still just hanging around waiting for another child, but for right now it feels nice. Our boys get more time to grow and mature and get comfortable and bond and prepare for a sibling(s) who really need a stable base and haven't found it yet.

*****

I have to say that my mind has been changed about foster care pretty drastically recently. I used to know a woman who adopted from foster care, back when I was a teenager and she had a daughter my age and a son in the Sunday School class I taught. She adopted a "black crack baby," but at the time he was a foster child. She carted him around in a bucket seat everywhere she went, and doted on him constantly. She was open about the process, and man was it a nightmare. Two years of birth parents coming in and out of his life, showing up for visits or not, being addicted to whatever, acting out, and always getting second chances. Court case after court case and finally, when it was all over, the family closed the book on adoption. They had their sweet, loving little boy and he was happy with his mom and dad and brother and sister, thriving in a loving home, but they just couldn't do it again.

We were willing to do fost adopt when we first found out infertility issues and that failed pretty quickly what with that whole "too young OMG nooo!" thing. But even then it was adoption only, really, none of this "foster with a near guarantee of adoption" thing. I couldn't handle going through what that family went through, and I still don't think I could do so.

I've been on message boards and watched people get licensed and just waaait and waaaait for any placement, or have a placement and have them leave after a couple of years, in this county. And the issues... Oh, the issues...

But now... I know several people who've adopted through foster care relatively painlessly, who've had less issues with their kids (or similar issues at least) than I've had with my Ethiopian born child.

And the recent changes in our county make me hopeful.

Sure we could end up with another nightmare case, going on for years and year or ending in tragedy. Sure it could be the dumbest thing we've ever done.

But...

There are real kids out there, little kids, many of them just normal children who need stability and certainty, many who will be adopted (about 50% in fact). There are 600 in our county alone, and far fewer foster homes than their are children.

And while we'll be seen as the "selfish" potential foster parents, wanting children young and relatively healthy and relatively risk free, at least we'll still be there waiting for these children (because even the selfish ones tend to get placed and those kids deserve a home just as much as the next child).

*****

Sometimes I'm iffy.

I feel I'd still like to conceive someday, and I know that there's a time limit on fertility more than a time limit on adoption or foster care. Adoption and foster care aren't going anywhere, we could always give birth and come back to it. And I do hope to someday feel a child within me, potentially have the water birth I've heard so much about, hire a doula, nurse without meds, hold a newborn again...

But then there's that pull, that "ding ding ding, fill out that paperwork, there's a good girl!" pull.

And when you can't shake that pull... well, maybe you aren't supposed to.

There's no guarantees. No guarantees we'll be accepted into the classes, that we'll pass everything, that we'll be approved and licensed. No guarantee we'll be placed. No guarantee it won't all just be a waste of time. Heck, no guarantee I won't get pregnant and ruin it all.

So I guess we'll just have to wait and see with this...

And finish filling out the application.

What Might Have Been...

2011-10-05T10:56:00.000-07:00

I'm thankful for my life. Very, very, very thankful. I live a very good life. I am surrounded by family and friends, I have a supportive church, a friendly neighborhood, and a wonderful city filled with everything I could ask for. I am pretty young, pretty healthy, and generally happy. I have a nice, large house with a nice yard and lots of space, an all of the material goods I could need.

And to top it off? I have this family. This wonderful, happy family. I have a husband who is also a best friend, who I can talk to and joke with and who I love to just hang out with at the end of the day. I have an older son who is thriving, who is sweet and compassionate and intelligent, and who has blown me away with his resilience. I have a younger son, a little fire cracker, who keeps me laughing and who gives the biggest hugs and kisses.

And yet, as great as my life is, I know fully that there were various points in my life where I could have made different choices, sometimes even "more sensible" choices, and I would have had a very different life.

Sometimes I wonder what might have been if...

-If I had chosen a different college. I might never have met Nik. I might be living a completely different life right now. A single career woman? Married with a few children by birth? Traveling the world in the Peace Corps? Living at home at age 29?

-If I had followed through with my travel abroad plans. I either wouldn't have dated Nik, would have broken up with him, or would have tried to make it work long distance for a year when we were both still so young and new to serious relationships. Sometimes I wonder if this even would have had a bearing on my life at all. Perhaps nothing would have changed. Or perhaps everything.

-If we had been able to get pregnant easily. This one sticks with me a lot. There was a point when I used to see woman who reminded me of my old self, woman who were very young and very out of shape and socially awkward, who were also new mothers and I would be so jealous. Why couldn't I be the one with the "easy" baby? Why did they get to just "do everything right," date and marry and then baby, while we hit a roadblock? Later on I grew to dislike the young new mother. What an air of self importance! What arrogance! So proud of themselves just because their bodies can do a typical biological function! But, really, I was only mad that *I* didn't get to be arrogant and self important, mad that I had been knocked down a few pegs into the realm of practically begging for the right to raise a deeply traumatized toddler while others seemingly could get pregnant and birth with ease. And now? I'm at peace with this. And I'm so glad we didn't get pregnant, so glad we chose the path we did, because while I know I would love those children, I also know how much I utterly LOVE the children we have.

-If we had tried fertility treatments. Again, this is another where I wonder if it would have had any bearing on anything. There were enough hold ups with both of our adoptions that had we attempted treatments, failed, and pursued adoption we might very well have still ended up with the same two boys (only a few thousand dollars poorer!). Or they could have worked. And that opens up a whole new category. Would we have gotten pregnant after Paxton and thus not adopted Ambrose? Would it have been before Paxton, meaning we didn't adopt from Ethiopia, and yet we went on to adopt Ambrose anyway? It would be all about the time line, wouldn't it?

-If we had been allowed to adopt 2 children from Ethiopia. We had wanted to adopt 2 children, bio siblings, age 0-4 with our first adoption. Because of the crazy finances involved in adoption we were certain we wouldn't be able to afford to adopt a second child. By adopting two siblings we'd only be spending like $5K more and our children would have each other to grow up with. But no, our social worker wouldn't allow it and while we tried to find a way to get this changed, it didn't work out. We were stuck. And for a long time this was literally the most horrible thing that had happened to us. It felt like one of our children was being ripped away, especially after several of the remarks our social worker made. Oh, did we hate her! But there was a woman with our agency also waiting to become a mother. A single woman open to either 1 child age 0-2 or two children ages 0-4. And we were logged in just a day earlier. And we got Paxton. And she got Y and D. And if we'd been cleared for two children, we would have Y and D and she would have P. And, well... in a way, it stunk. We loved P, but those would have been our children... But we met them in Ethiopia. We have pictures of them. And we stay in contact with their mother. And I have to say I'm SO glad things worked out how they did, because man P is awesome, and man does she love her kids and they are so happy with her! And we get to watch them grow up which is fantastic! But back to the what if... if we'd adopted Y and D, then she'd have Paxton. And what if Paxton remained an only child? And what if we didn't go on to adopt after Y and D because we already had two children? Paxton and Ambrose would be on opposite ends of the country... would they even meet?

-If I had given Nik the go ahead for a job he was up for. He was very close to getting a job with a huge company in California only a few months after P came home. We would have had to move pretty quickly, to a very small house. We would have to give up on our dream of a large family and we'd lose all our family and friend connections nearby. We would have to live probably an hour from Nik's work. And the job? Was an absolute dream job. This one... this one really bugs me sometimes. Because sometimes I almost wish we'd done it, that we'd taken the risk and moved to Cali and started up anew over there, just our little family. It actually sounds kind of thrilling. But we couldn't have adopted Ambrose then (our agency then was NC residents only). And that makes staying totally worth it.

-If we had adopted internationally a second time. Again, this is another way we might have not ended up with Ambrose. We almost applied to adopt from Colombia, and then Ethiopia again, before turning local. We don't know how a different adoption process would have gone. Would we have a long a difficult road? Would we have come home with a child? Would we have failed, turned to domestic, and still ended up with Ambrose?

-If someone else had been chosen for Ambrose or, conversely, we were chosen for a different child. I know it sounds silly, but I can't imagine loving another child as much as we love Ambrose and Paxton. I can't really imagine not having them (at least, not without tearing up). But really when you're in adoption land, you do come soooo close to this way or that, this child or that one.

I'm sure there are a million other what ifs...

How many times did any of us avoid death or severe bodily harm just by taking an alternate route to the gym? How many potential future spouses did I not notice in high school and college? How many children could have become our children if only we'd signed with the right agency at the right time? How many times was it actually possible for us to conceive but we just weren't timing it right? How different could my relationships be if I'd said a wrong word here or there, or had some nasty and inconsequential falling out?

I suppose what I'm getting at is...

I'm lucky. Very, very, very lucky. And looking at all the various ways my life could have gone up to this point.... yeah, definitely lucky!

20 hours and 53 minutes left....

2011-10-03T11:21:00.000-07:00

Dearest Ambrose,

Right now, right this very second, you are 23 months, 30 days, 3 hours and 7 minutes old, though your birthday technically begins at midnight which is much sooner.

The countdown... yeah, it's nearly done.

Tomorrow you will no longer be known by a month but by a year.

*Sigh*

You were all of nine days old when we first held you and took you home. I told your age in days until you were a month. It was hard when I had to stop doing that....

I told your age in weeks until you reached 3 months. Again, that was hard to stop.

When you hit a year I was willing to refer to you as "one" instead of "twelve months"... until you were thirteen months. Then I went back to counting by months.

I've even added in halves as long as I could.

This afternoon when I drop you off at the YMCA nursery, I will sign you in. And I will write "23m", all squished for lack of space, into your age category. Then I will go to yoga and try not to cry.

And tomorrow? I'll drop you off at the YMCA nursery, sign you in, and write the ever so simple "2" in your age category. And, again, yoga and trying not to cry.

I know that tomorrow is a place marker, just another day really in your life that happens to net you some extra presents, a cake, and a snazzy "Birthday Boy" shirt that a friend gave me from her own little boy. You've been steadily changing and morphing into a child already, and I acknowledge that. You won't wake up in the morning potty trained, dressing yourself, speaking paragraphs, and reading. It will be a normal day, where we read books, cuddle, play on the floor, and laugh a lot.

But even so, tomorrow makes it official doesn't it?

Tomorrow I stop counting your age in months.... because tomorrow you are no longer a baby.

And seriously, little man? This year coming up? Being two years old? It's gonna ROCK!!!

We are going to have so much fun! You'll learn so much and grow so much and be able to do so much, and oh man just thinking about it all...

We brought your brother home when he was two years old, and I made a lot of mistakes, a lot of things we've worked to fix that I hope to do differently this time around. And even so, we still had a lot of fun, a LOT of fun, and the thought of experiencing all of those discoveries and new skills and mental leaps with you as well? Dude, I'm totally psyched!

And just like every other birthday or milestone, I'm sure, 100% sure, that I'll embrace it with open arms once it's here. Tomorrow I'll wake up utterly ecstatic, excited for a full day of birthday fun! I'll be so proud to cuddle and congratulate my sweet two year old boy :)

But today?

Today you are my one year old. Today you are my infant. Today you are still my baby. And I'm going to miss my baby.

I love you little bean. It's been a wild and fun ride so far, and I can't wait to see what the next year has in store for us, even if I'm weepy about closing off our last year.

Love, Mom

PS-Can you tell your big brother to slow down a bit? I finally adjusted to having a five year old, and I've accepted that he's a Kindergartner, but come on!!! He's turning SIX years old next month? For serious? Ugh! I'm too young and cool to have a six year old!!!

The (First?) Meeting...

2011-09-28T18:14:00.000-07:00

I'm so all over the place with posting. Once a month, twice a day, whatever! It's all a mix of time and inspiration and stuff happening and me actually remembering that I, too, have a blog. Yes, yes, despite the fact that I've been keeping a blog for, oh, 9 and a half years (my LiveJournal came first) I do actually forget that I have one. I'm just that ditzy.

Anyway, as I recorded our (first?) experience with the fertility clinic here, I felt I should also detail our (first?) meeting pertaining to foster care.

First of all, I should say that the "(first?)" has a double meaning. There's the obvious, that we could very well pursue this further and and instead of last night simply being "the foster care meeting" it might actually be "the first foster care meeting". Secondly, we've already been to one of these meetings over five years ago, with different people, different building, and when the group split into foster/adoption and adoption only, we were some of the people who left to go get the spiel on adoption in the other room.

As a quick summary, we were married 5 years and 11.5 months ago and found out about our fertility issues about 6 months in (or rather, had them confirmed by tests). We were quick to pursue adoption starting with foster care, signing up for an information meeting and attending the first session we could. I was so certain that they were just dying for a couple like us! Married, stable, own a home, financially secure, health insurance, family support, stay at home mom, many years experience with young children, open to any race and gender, multiple ages and siblings groups. Oh, yeah, they were gonna love me!

But I was 23 and he was 21 and no, no they did not like that. Foster care might have been okay with it had we stayed for that meeting, but the adoption group did not like it. The woman who complained that she should be given the baby of an unwed teen because "well, that's just not good role modeling!", yeah, she probably got a child through them. And the couple who complained when they mentioned sibling groups, pouting that "so if we get our baby and he has a brother we have to take THAT ONE too?!?!?" Yeah, they probably got a kid before us as well. But we were young and young is so often thought of as naive and unprepared. I can tell you from experience that you can be just an unprepared and naive at 43 as at 23 but that's another blog post, that I'll probably never get to...

Anyway, we were so burned by the experience that we swore we'd never go back. No way in heck would we foster, only straight adopt, and no way would we want to deal with the people who didn't see the awesome resource in front of them.

Years later, and some humility slapped into us...

So we returned. We returned as a couple married almost 6 years, not 6 months. We returned as parents of a toddler and Kindergartner, parents who have dealt with loss and grief and anxious attachment in a small child, parents who have worked therapy into their schedules and set up long periods of their life around routines that appear so silly and useless that we're openly ridiculed by fellow parents who truly do not understand why we would do what we do. We returned as people with more compassion, more hands on knowledge, and more faith in our ability to parent and seek out the resources needed to help our children.

We also returned with all of the "knowledge" about foster care in our heads...

Mostly white people adopting, so few people hoping to foster, people trying to make a living off it, no one wanting to do straight foster, no one open to siblings, no one open to other races...

When we showed up we HAD TO WAIT IN LINE to get in. I say that because it's amazing. People were LINING UP to become foster parents.

The room? Was PACKED. Majority of the people were African American as far as I could tell, with many Caucasians and Latinos mixed in.

When they split the group from fost/adopt and adoption only, most of the Caucasian people left.

We hadn't noticed that the first time around....

They accentuated the need for homes, especially for siblings and older children. They told us that "teen" starts at age 10. They also told us that you could only have five children MAXIMUM in your home, meaning the most we could take would be 3 (whew! That's still a lot!). This also means larger sibling groups are always split up. Even smaller ones are usually split up. They told us that most foster homes are only open to one child. A handful will take 2. There are no foster parents currently licensed in our county willing/able to take 3 or more children.

That? That stuck with me...

Also, the process? This whole notion of "foster care is easy, if you're interested they'll just give you a child!" Um.... it's apparently a 6-9 month process to be licensed. Also you need the MAPP class, like duh, and that doesn't start until January. Which means we might be looking at a YEAR from now before we could even be licensed, and at that point we'd start the wait to be placed.

That also shocked me. They talked about why it takes so long, and it makes sense. It seems to run so against their desperate need for homes, which I do believe now is genuine, and yet I understand it. We only barely touched on rough issues with P, compared to what we might see in foster care.... thinking about someone jumping right in and getting a child a month later? And finalizing an adoption before the honeymoon is over? That scares me even more than the thought of a child in a long term therapeutic group home...

So yeah, we wavered a bit. And read and listened. And we laughed at the jokes and I misted up a few times just thinking about it all, about the children in peril, the young adults with their lives stunted, the case workers who love so much, and the people in the room... the people in the room who couldn't even wait for the meeting to be over before pulling out their Foster Parent Application Form and filling it out, right then and there, to hand in. The people asking for the fax number to send in their applications later, and kindly asking for a repeat so they'd send it to the right place. The people who weren't scared away and truly, truly want to do this...

And then there's us.

I almost bailed on the meeting the day before. Almost said, "eh, why do we need the trouble?"

I told Nik that because we have so long to get our application in I'd like us to sit on it a month and just think about it. And you know what Mr. Doesn't Like Risks told me? He's ready to fill it out. Ready to do this.

I could have cried.

I'm pretty sure it will be sent off sometime next week...

That's not to say we'll be accepted, and even if we are that's not to say we will be licensed. A lot could happen during the next year, right?

We could decide it just doesn't feel right for our family, or maybe one of the kids might end up needing more care than they do right now. We might find another adoption route that feels like dingdingding, this is the right path. Heck, I could even become pregnant. Stranger things have happened, right?

But for now...

I have to admit, I was half hoping that the class would scare me off... but it didn't. It didn't at all. And now I'm actually MORE excited about this. And I'm happy that it would probably take so long to become licensed. If we choose this path and continue on it and nothing changes, then we'll be licensed when our kids at home are 7 and 3, when they're in the same room and we have a bedroom and crib free, and when they're a bit older and more independent. They just get easier every year...

So, yeah.

Obviously we have NO IDEA what the future holds, none at all. And this could all be a horrible, horrible mistake. Or it could be the start of the most wonderful journey of our life, perhaps even leading into having a permanent attachment to helping those children in our community most in need. Who knows?

Oh, and I do have to share this little bit...

Toward the beginning of the meeting when they asked that everyone interested in adoption only please go to the next room over for their presentation, a large group of people left (perhaps a fifth of the room, like 20+ people). As they were about to shut the door, the woman leading the meeting called out "feel free to come on back when your meeting is over!" Then she turned to us and said, with sass, "They AAAALWAYS come back!"

Everyone laughed, and Nik leaned in and whispered, "she's right. It just took us five years..."

That Health Thing...

2011-09-28T07:19:00.001-07:00

I had another blog for awhile that I got sick of. In that blog I mentioned my problems with fitness and diets and such and I had meant for the blog to be sort of a journal for me as I chronicled my own personal journey through weight loss/increased health and personal growth as I attempted different hobbies and such in order to perhaps find something I truly enjoy and am passionate about.

So yeah, like many things, I gave up on that blog. I could give reasons, but really? I'm too lazy to have two blogs :-P No, seriously, I am.

If there's one thing I've learned, and grown to accept, it's that I'm a very sedentary person. I enjoy sitting. I enjoying resting. I enjoy gazing at the sky in silence, my brain whirring a million miles a second. I sometimes blame this on my own extremely chronic insomnia that has plagued me my entire life. When you have 2 or so hours every night to just stare at the ceiling as you try to sleep, you tend to build your own little fantasy worlds, your own stories, your own long inner monologues. From conversations with God to self-insert fanfics to planning out the next week of my life meticulously... Yeah, that's just how I work.

So I think part of my journey is to try to take my focus from being so much inside into noticing the outside, and caring for it. Stop thinking about where I'd like to move the sofa, positioning it a dozen different ways in my head, and start clearing space. Stop reading people's blogs and forum posts anonymously and start contacting them to actually talk. Be active. Enjoy life.

But I guess that's not entirely the point of this post, now is it?

I've been reading on a friend's blog and she has talked of her weightloss/fitness journey, where she's come from, and where she is now. While I wish her luck (and I really, really do!) it has made me feel like I should share a bit of that on here.

There's a lot, so I'll be summing up quite a bit of this...

I've never been thin. I've never been fit. I've never been in shape.

You know those fat kids that eat Dorito's like they're breathing air and gasp for breath while walking up stairs and are picked last for basketball, even by the teacher? Yeah, that's me.

Growing up my family tried to make me feel better about myself, tried to build my confidence. I won't say it totally backfired, but, well... essentially I assumed the identity of the "fat girl."

That's who I was, right? Like a skin color or gender, it could not be changed. I was fat. I had a certain life expectancy, a certain way I was supposed to act, certain clothes I could wear, etc that was all different from "the norm."

I went through "skinny phases" here and there as I grew, but I was always pudgy even then, never the gangly or thin girl. I have always had my thighs rub together and wear my pants down or give me awful sores if I wore skirts. I often lost my balance. My pants usually cut into my stomach so deeply that I now have a "bromodial stomach," a tubby stomach with two separated flabs of fat that accentuates itself. I had an early period (age 10), early breasts (started growing when I was 8), and early body hair and odor for which I was teased.

To top it off, I was 5' 4" in 4th grade.

I was a freak and I knew it.

And I separated myself from my body.

I dressed in whatever clothes I felt like, because I knew I wasn't highlighting anything. My hair was always down and typically unkempt and tangled, because why would I bother to brush it? I never cared about myself physically. Never took care of myself. My body would fail me, that was something I always believed. I would probably die young of one of the many diseases that plagued our family and I may as well just not give a s--t about the vessel that would lead to that demise. It was only there to move me around, that's it...

When we got married I was around 230 lbs or so.

When we went through the TTC and adoption journey for Paxton, I ballooned up even more. I threw out my scale. I would try to walk places and I was always gasping for breath, my fingers and feet swollen and fat and sometimes unmoveable. It was almost impossible to get a middle seatbelt around me. I tell people I was 250 lbs when we adopted P, but honestly? I could have been A LOT higher.

I was so depressed during that journey. I wasn't working and I was in a town with only one friend, who was working. We only had one car which Nik took to work. I stayed up unil 4am and slept till noon. I popped in a frozen pizza and tater tots for a meal, and ate a whole Totino's pizza for lunch by myself. Most days my own activity was to get up, make the bed, get dressed, walk the dog in our front lawn, eat, and sit at the computer in the back of our house, in the dark corner with the cold floor, quiet and alone. No matter how many lights we put on, how many windows we opened, that was the darkest corner I've ever seen. Even cameras couldn't go off there without a flash. I would sit there, only moving to use the restroom or get more food. Then Nik would come home and I'd feed us both again and we'd play video games and then he'd conk out asleep and I'd just get right back to it, in my corner hunched over the computer with a big plate of food, depressed and feeling like this journey would never end and we were just throwing money and hope into a black hole, knowing full well it would never happen for us.....

Then it did.

And life got crazy.

Part of my own emotional issues during that first year with P probably stemmed from all the time I'd spent alone and depressed. I truly didn't believe they'd even let us keep this little boy until we got on the plane to the US, and it was like my brain literally could not handle it. That was a dark period for us... but with so much light thrown in.

And it got better. And better and better and better. P bonded and he got healthier and I got healthier and soon I realized I was making healthy food for him and crap food for me and, dagonnit, that shouldn't be the case!

So I started to eat better. And walk more, and play with him, and throw balls, and roll around.

I was around 200 lbs when I started the journey of trying to induce lactation to adopt Ambrose.

On top of eating better because, well, my baby would be getting that food, the pumping really helped me burn fat. I lost roughly a pound a week for 6.5 months. I was around 160 when Ambrose came home, and feeling incredible.

Last November we joined the gym. I was 174.

And I don't believe I've lose a lb of it.

But you know what? That's okay. It'll come off eventually, I think.

Because over the past 4 years we've been instituting changes.

Sloooow, slooooow, steeeeady changes.

Cutting down on soda, changing type, then cutting right out until it's a once-a-week thing.

Cutting down on pizza, burritoes, quesadillas, etcs. Pizza more than once a month? Uuuuuughhh, no please!

Slowly adding in more foods, more veggies. Getting to like salads. Getting to drink water. Getting to see apples as a good snack. Slow cooking with fresh veggies.

And on top of that? Nik's running and my yoga. We're both learning so much about our bodies, it's insane! I have bad knees, my left leg is very flexible, I hold my legs incorrectly when I walk, etc. I'm learning to adjust, stretch, feel, and figure out what I need.

I can do a push up, and don't even get me started on sit ups!

And when I stretch my legs my feet no longer go numb and my knee no longer feels so painful I have to stop and gasp for breath.

I'm getting there. Not even really close to where I WANT to be yet, but I'm getting there, slowly and surely.

Now I just need to stay on this path for, oh, the rest of my life... :)

Too Fast...

2011-09-27T11:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, can someone please tell me when this angelic little baby:

Became this fun loving big boy?

Seriously, the kid is loving his school. He's loving library story time. He's asking for his teachers or class mates or librarians or friends, asking to go certain places, do certain things, eat certain foods. Things he didn't register even a month or two ago are now his norm. He's not thinking like a baby anymore. He's thinking like a kid.

And it scares me.

I mean, come on, I already have one kids in all day school!!! Let me have this baby time man!

Seriously, look at this! Look at my cute cuddly little boys!

Now, look at these same boys 23.5 months later, all dressed up (by their definition) and headed off to school this morning.

Ambrose knew exactly what he needed to do to go to "butha scoo". He needed a jacket. Not pants or a shirt or shoes or anything. And who cares if it's raining! No, he needed a jacket, brother's jacket, and he could wear it his way thankyouverymuch, and he and P held hands and just started walking off while Nik was getting his shoes on.

*Sigh*

What's a momma to do?

Especially when he's such a heart breaker!

I mean, it was obvious he would be. Look at how dashing he was at just a couple weeks old!

And now? Even more so.

Kid has his own sense of style, and he totally rocks it! And if you don't comment on his awesome shades or his rockin' boots? Well, he'll march right up to you and demand you look at him and compliment his attire. My little diva.

Oh well.

I guess they all have to grow up sometime, right?

At least now he's no longer just lounging around on the couch playing video games.

We've got this babe out in the yard working.

Gotta pick that crop o' chickens before the frost sets in!

back and forth and baaaack and fooooorth...

2011-09-26T05:09:00.000-07:00

So this whole #3 thing is, well, complicated.

First we updated our paperwork for Ethiopia. Didn't go anywhere. Then the Congo. Didn't go anywhere. Then domestic and we're pretty much done with that arena. Even the situations I'm seeing that we could afford would involve $15K+ unrefundable due right away. We COULD update our paperwork and sign with an agency, but... well, that's just not appealing to us right now.

We're going to a foster parent informational session tomorrow evening, just to get a feel for that arena. I've had a few friends recently have success through them. But we're nervous, about a lot. What if we have a child and lose him/her? What will that do to us and the children? What if it ends up being a multi year guessing game of whether or not we get to keep the child placed with us? Or what if it ends up like friends of ours, who waited until their were healthy children/infants either available for adoption or headed down that route? What if we just keep saying no until the right one comes along? Even then, the process to become licensed doesn't exactly look appealing... Especially the Fire Marshall telling us what to do in our house. And the 10 week, 3 hour course on what you'll deal with. And keeping yourself updated classes. And all the stress of having a caseworker and/or social workers and/or therapists involved in your life for a minimum of 6 months... But it could be worth it... worth at least going to the informational at least, right?

I think the idea of having our life (and our family and our home) be our own, under no one else's care, is what's most appealing about giving up on adoption. No more homestudies! No more references! No more questioning of our beliefs/backgrounds/finances/relationship! Just the belief that we can life our lives as a normal family, answering to no one but ourselves and those who love us and support us, just like just about every other family.

And of course, that's what makes birthing a baby seem like a better option.

Embryo adoption? Possible, but not so much through the local fertility clinics (2+ year wait).

Donor gametes? Again, possible, but we'd have to figure out exactly what the "issue" is and if it could be fixed by this and nothing else. And I'm not exactly jumping at this option, seeing it as a last option. I don't know, but when it comes to our family it really feels like our kids should be all or nothing biologically. But that could be something I get over...

IUI? A possibility, one I'm not so against.

IVF? ... if it comes to this, and insurance won't cover it, I'm totally going to India/Thailand/Barbados/wherever! Even if we spend the same amount and it doesn't work, then we'd still have had the vacation of a lifetime. Of course, easy to say when it hasn't come down to that...

Natural fertility remedies? Yeah, looking into those, still trying to wrap my head around it all. Perhaps someday soon I'll try a fertility acupuncture...

And I'm sure there are other things I've missed.

So, to make a super long story short, there are a lot of questions about where exactly #3 will come from. A toddler from foster care? A baby we conceive naturally? Embryo adoption? Will we travel out of the country for fertility treatments? Will we travel out of the country for another child? So many questions...

And yet there's always that one nagging question still lingering, still jumping around in my head...

What if we're done?

What if this is it?

What if our family is perfect, just the way it is?

We have two boys, two perfect sons, with two radiant personalities. They're so different in some ways and yet they are best friends. They are both healthy, both intelligent, both loved and adored, both well adjusted and attached, and both thriving.

We have a full life. We have a home to keep, jobs to fulfill, and two different school schedules to mind. My day is full of making lunches and keeping sleep schedules and reading books and playing on the floor and kissing booboos and giving big, long hugs. We go on road trips with both boys, now very portable, singing in the backseat joyfully and laughing together.

We are enjoying our life and honestly? Many days I really don't feel like someone is missing.

And yet...

It's such a conundrum.

I cannot declare us "done" right now, not knowing full well that we could care for another and that we'd love and adore a third. And truthfully who's to say I won't ache deeply for that invisible third in the coming months or years as our "baby" truly becomes a regular kid?

It's almost nerve wracking... We're so happy where we are, and so afraid to lose it and yet drawn toward expanding our family, drawn toward "risking" our life together in hopes of adding another. Who's to say our pursuit would even prove fruitful? Who's to say it wouldn't be a huge mistake? Who's to say we won't end up with a stillbirth or failed adoption? But then again, who's to say our 3rd child won't be every bit as wonderful and miraculous as his/her older brothers, just as loved, just as adored, just as cute and smart and friendly? Just like with our first two (can we handle a child? Can we handle a second?) who's to say that questioning isn't all a moot point because, really, it will happen if and when it's meant to (though I hate to be told that...).

*Sigh*

Well, back to daily life and random, still moments of pondering. Oh, for those of you who are fertility minded and know what this means: I'm 10dpo, and my luteal phase has been very short so maybe AF will show soon, but if not then yay! But unlikely, right? :-P

Today is the day!

2011-09-14T09:21:00.000-07:00

Today, for the first time EVER, they're both in school!

P left with Nik before I even got out of bed, and A slept late giving me time to shower and make breakfast.

Woohoo!

Then I got A's lunch and diaper bag ready and dropped his little butt off at his school!

Woohoo!

Four hours! Four blissful hours all to myself! Four wonderful, amazing, relaxing hours!

Woohoo!

So what have I been doing?

Have I spent my morning at a coffee shop curled up with a book?

No!

Did I get my brows waxed and hair trimmed like I'd planned?

No!

Did I go shopping for clothes, or the new shoes I "desperately" need?

No!

I.... sat on my butt.... staring at the computer...

Woohoo?

Okay, so that's not all.

I mean, I was able to vacuum all of upstairs, which is rare, and I have laundry going. I cleaned the chicken coop and spent an hour or so on the floor going through the Scholastic fliers I'm in charge of for P's preschool, picking out the best 4 out of 8 or so titles, pulling the fliers out, and making the little stacks.

And I ate hummus. That's always a plus, right?

But really, I didn't do much, not necessarily because there's nothing to do but because, I mean... what do I DO without a child attached to me?

I mean, seriously, I've been knee deep in this 24/7 mom thing for like almost 4 years now. Yeah, I get to head out to a friends house alone a few times a month, and yeah I often have Saturday mornings all to myself to do the grocery shopping (and more laundry), but 4 hours twice a week? During the day? All to myself?

I'm seriously at a loss. I know there's stuff to do, I could even make a list, but even so... it just feels so weird.

I guess just like them figuring out the complexities of being at school without me, I'm going to have to figure out the complexities of being at home (or preferably out) without them.

It's odd.

I get lonely, and while I used to get lonely with only a child to talk to, now I'm perfectly happy to sit and speak one on one with one of my boys. I love their company, and it's hard to be away from them just for the reason that they've been my sole, consistent company for so long.

And I guess that's why this is good for us.

They are making friends and when I pick them up they run to me, bright eyed and ecstatic, happy to come home to the safety and security they need while still happy that they get to go back to a land of fun and learning very soon after.

And that's why I enjoy going to the gym by myself isn't it? So I experience the same thing? Even if they're right upstairs in the nursery?

This will take some adjusting, and some planning. And I'm sure pretty soon I'll have a full agenda for my mornings off, which will be fun and hectic and wonderful.

But for now... well, it's almost time to pick up my little one, and I have to admit I'm a bit excited :) Even if it does mean that I get to go right into dealing with naptime!

You know you're nursing a toddler when...

2011-09-11T06:13:00.000-07:00

You know you're nursing a toddler when:

*You are rushing around in your room to get dressed, you pull off your top and reach down to the under-bed drawer to grab a new bra and while you're rustling around in there you feel two small hands grab a breast and pull it to a tiny mouth, who begins suckling without word. A few minutes later while you're still standing in this awkward position and he's still nursing, you finally realize how ridiculous this looks and start giggling hysterically.

*You grab him from the crib early in the morning when he's calling for you, quickly change his dirty diaper, and bring him back to bed with you so you can close your eyes while he nurses, perhaps getting a little extra sleep... instead you become something like the base of a clock, and he's like the second hand, rolling all around on top of you and beside you. His belly to your belly, him flipped on his side across the bed, him kicking your ear and playing with your nose... finally when he has a knee in each ear and his diaper squashed firmly over your face, you realize that maybe this wasn't the best of ideas. From that day on, if you're awake enough to think about it, you nurse him on a sofa and when he tries to flip around he falls off the side.

*You realize his upset is moving into tantrum territory, or he's just not going to stop playing before bed, or he won't leave his brother alone, or... well, whatever. Something you want to stop. And instead of a lengthy, screaming filled time out you opt for a bribe. Luckily it's been awhile since you last nursed, and even though you only nurse twice a day now and don't have much milk you're pretty sure to have something in there. You lean down to his ear and whisper "na-na" and he comes to a complete stop, looks up at you with huge, bright eyes and whispers back "na-na?" He reaches for you and you grab him and settle down to let him nurse for a couple minutes. He eats, he re-sets, and everything improves. And hey, it's better than bribing with a cookie, right?

*You no longer have the support of your friends, your family, your mommy's group, or society in general. Even your husband, who is so supportive when you're actively nursing, get's a little uncomfortable when you actually speak about extended breast feeding. Everyone who started off with babies the same age who were nursing alongside you have now all weaned and you can tell in their looks and their words that they don't understand why you're still nursing when their own children are doing fine without. You keep hearing "He's getting too big" or "he can eat real food now" and of course "you're STILL nursing???" No longer are people urging you on or singing your praises, they're judging you and condemning you. You now nurse in private only. And sometimes, even though you don't want to, you feel guilty for nursing at all.

*Your son confuses waiters at restaurants by ordering "cow's milk." That's right, my not-yet-two-year-old orders his own drink and often his own food, and knows how to do so without prompting. And he knows there's a difference between cow's milk and mama's milk. Sometimes he just casually says "milk" and understands that one is called na-na and the other milk. Other times, though, he wants to be very specific so people don't mess up his order. So yes, Mr. Waiter, he did just ask for cow's milk. Please stop looking at me like he's speaking gibberish and asking "cow's milk?" You flipping know what he means!

*Sometimes your son will see a picture of an animal nursing, such as a pig, and become excited. "Pig na-na!" Next thing you know, he'll be asking you to oink while he nurses. You laugh and do it because playing make-believe with a toddler is not above you and it makes him so happy and excited. It becomes a very happy memory that you're glad to have.

*Your little guy goes through a super clean phase. Thus, he takes a napkin and cleans your cleavage in public, declaring "clean na-na!" Because we can't have no dirty na-na's now!

*Sometimes while you're holding him in your arms, maybe out for a walk or talking to someone, if you're not paying attention he'll reach his hand into your shirt and feel around a bit. If you don't protest, he'll grab a nipple. Usually it ends at that, and he's happy to know his food source is still around. Buuuuut, sometimes he'll be able to grab that nipple and gently pull, tug, and reposition while you still don't notice, until he's actually pulled the nipple up to the top of your shirt. Then he'll lean over and start suckling like a fiend. Yeah, you notice then, and he giggles while nursing as you jump. At this point you're so used to nursing that you literally didn't notice, and even though people are giving you surprised/embarrassed/scandalized looks you can't help but chuckle. What's that saying from Ron Burgundy: Anchorman? "How'd you do that? Heck, I'm not even mad; that's amazing!"

*You have a deadline. Two years and you're done. You've been on a certain medication in order to nurse him since February of 2009. This medication MAY have the side effect of harming your uterus, and you haven't given up all hope of having a child through birth, whether naturally, through treatments, or through embryo adoption. Harm may not happen, or it may have already happened, and you don't really know. You do know that you said you'd nurse him till he was two and even though there were days when you wanted to give up you just kept striving for that. At this point you're planning on stopping that medication shortly after his second birthday, which will likely dry you right up. You're planning to have a friend and photographer take photos at a "weaning session," where you're still nursing and you're dressed up all pretty, and you're going to take it slow and not cut him off cold turkey. You have it all planned out. It should be just fine...

*Your deadline is fast approaching. He'll be 2 on the 4th. He'll have been nursing from you for two years on the 13th. And a few days later you're going to half your medication. And you've been actually looking forward to this for a long time. An achievement. A graduation of sorts. A big exit-from-babyhood event. And. It. Hurts. Like. Hell.

You don't really want to wean. You don't want to stop having those precious moments with him, those glazed over eyes staring up at you with complete love. He can be such a picky eater but he's doing just fine eating breast milk twice a day. And he's always been so healthy and cold/flu season is upon us, and I'm weaning now? And he loves it, oh does he love it. He's so cuddly and sweet and he just adores his closeness with mama.

And so many hate it. So, so many despise it. So many see something so innocent, so natural, so sweet as something dark and twisted and perverted. He's walking and talking and counting and singing and so obviously asking for the breast is completely inappropriate. So little support, so many judgmental glances....

Why? Why? I'm giving him nutrition, the best food I can provide. I'm sharing special, wonderful moments with him, moments that do not in any way affect my life adversely. I don't lose any time, don't lose any sleep. I don't have to eat a special diet, or restrict anything, not anymore. No one has to even see other than him and myself. And while people love to tell you how awful extended nursing is for children, I've seen so many studies (in fact, every study pertaining to extended breast feeding) that show the exact opposite. On top of that I've had numerous women lean in and quietly tell me the weaning age of their own children. 2, 3, 4, sometimes longer. All of them healthy and well adjusted and normal. So why? Why the condemnation?

And even more so... why do I listen to it?

*You're enjoying nursing. Your weaning deadline is fast approaching. Your support is running low and you're worried about harming your prospects for a child by birth down the road if you don't stop taking your medication. But he's enjoying it and you're enjoying it and in so many ways it's all good. You feel a decision needs to be made soon and you're not entirely sure which way you'll go, or which way he'll go. You know there are whole days when he forgets to nurse and you have to urge him to because of the discomfort. You know there are whole days where he wants to nurse constantly and it hurts when there's no milk. You know weaning is coming anyway, naturally. Perhaps, maybe, you should just add a little more time and see what happens....

Sweet Boys...

2011-09-10T17:37:00.000-07:00

We're starting to fall into a nice little groove with P going to school. Ambrose has only been to his class twice, three times if you count the hour and a half "intro" day, but he's loving it. Paxton has been all of 6 times and so far so good for the most part. They have a color coded behavior system, with Purple being the absolute best, green being your normal standard day that everyone starts on, yellow being one warning, orange being two+ warnings and you have the homework of coming up with what you could do different and drawing a picture, and red is parental contact due to really bad behavior. In the past six days it's been purple-green-purple-yellow-yellow-purple. Not too shabby! Especially considering that P had his first substitute on Thursday (yes, five days into the school year for Kindergartners just trying to grasp this school thing the teacher has a workshop, which I'm sure couldn't be helped but really? Timing yo!). For Paxton change is haaaard, and a break in routine used to cause massive tantrums and major problems. Now? He got a yellow day. A warning because, as he put it, he "kind of freaked out in the morning" for his sub. But he got over it and held it together for the rest of the day, even though he told me it was hard. Seriously, I could cry I was so proud of this kid!

So anyway, it's going well over here. Splendid, actually. Paxton is loving school. Ambrose is loving his mommy time and partaking in activities directly targeted at his age group. And I'm getting a bit more done around the house. Sure, nap time is often a rush, especially on Ambrose's preschool days when we get home at 1:30 and have to leave the house at 2:30 to pick up P. But it's all good :)

So that leads me to this post, which is essentially just me wanting to record some of our happy moments lately. Such as...

***
P giving me attitude for a little after school, coming up with a plan for how he's going to lock himself in the building with a friend and play for the rest of his life there and anyone who stops him will be put in jail. But it's okay, because he'll give them toys to play with too. And no, he can't just send them home and ask them not to bother him. That makes no sense. And no, playing with his toys at home also makes no sense! School has better toys!

***

The same boy, five minutes later, getting really quiet then admitting that when he's at school he misses me and Nik a little... but he really, really misses his baby brother and wishes he could be playing with him. Cue me swooning over my sweet boy!

***

Ambrose adding "tooooo!" to everything. I'll ask my boys "would you guys like snack?" and Ambrose will scream "snack tooooo!!!" He'll see P on his bed and run in screaming "bed toooo!" We hear a lot of "read too" or "up too" or "car too" or "shoe too" or "bath too" or, well, you get the picture. Basically if he wants something (especially something P has) he'll demand to have it toooooo. :)

***

Watching P navigate a phone call, including asking my mother's receptionist to transfer him to her. I never realized that while P recognizes my mother's name, he doesn't know how to say Roberta! Hehe! "Ro-ber-TA"

***

Ambrose singing songs. He sings the ABCs over and over, and Twinkle Twinkle. Sometimes he repeats bits of the songs he's heard in his classroom. He also looooves counting and does it over and over. Now he's pretty much settled on counting to 10, but won't say 9 at all.

***

Our chickens have grown so much, and they've started laying. We have the nice, yummy, super nutritious fresh eggs. Also? Great pets. Seriously, so easy to keep, and we just let them run around the yard for a bit most days and they just climb on up to bed once it gets dark. They sit to let the kids pet them or pick them up, and eat out of our hands. They come when we call, and they're soft as silk. Such sweet girls! Now if only they'd stop pooping all over my deck....

***

Finally getting a date today :) We dropped the boys off at the drop in daycare and took in a movie, The Help, before picking up the kids and heading off for Ethiopian food. It was wonderful :) We really need to do it more!

***

And now? Perhaps and early bedtime! That would be wonderful too.

Survivor's Guilt

2011-09-03T09:02:00.001-07:00

I've always been a pretty lucky person. A Caucasian raised by married parents in a middle class household with a nice education and supportive family, with no major health problems, and living in a first world nation. I always had nice grades and good friends, and when I grew up I met and married a wonderful man who is supportive both emotionally and financially. My only "big" problem in life has been infertility, a pain in the butt to be sure but even so, how many people who have suffered with infertility would give their right arm to have two healthy little boys through adoption before they turned 30? I mean, seriously, we're lucky.

And while I suppose I should just be riding high all the time on this, relaxing in our safe, warm home with my happy, loving family... well, I guess I'm a bit too compassionate for that.

When we adopted Paxton, things were rough. He was traumatized and all the preparation in the world couldn't really prepare us for becoming first time parents to a child who hated us and couldn't communicate with us. It was a very difficult time.

And what made it more difficult was this: Survivor's Guilt.

I hadn't really cared about first families at all before we got P's referral. All of that, the child, his history, everything, just seemed so far away. Sure I felt bad for the plight of the Ethiopian people, and I did often wonder what his family history would be like but there was no real emotional response.

And then we got the call. And I learned that his first parents were no longer among us, that I'd never meet them, that I'd never get their blessing...

And I started to cry. Even more than knowing we had a son out there, even more than knowing what he'd been through and was going through, suddenly I realized that I would never be able to meet the mother of my child, never be able to keep in contact, never hug her, never see what she looks like, never explain our family to her, never promise her I'd love her child as my own.

I didn't realize until years later that what I had was called "entitlement issues." I truly didn't feel that I deserved Paxton, and I was often angry at myself for not being absolutely perfect. His first parents hadn't chosen international adoption, they'd chosen to place him with family who later on realized they really couldn't provide him with what they needed. I can only imagine what his first mother would think if she'd learned that her beloved children were split up and her youngest sent to another nation to be raised with people she'd never met before. It's a hard thing to think about, a hard fact about international adoption, and to say I felt (and sometimes still feel) guilty over this is an understatement.

It took me awhile to come to terms with my own emotions in regards to P's first family, and I have to admit that Ambrose's adoption healed me as well. We met his first mother and I'm able to send her letters and pictures which is wonderful! Perhaps someday we'll even meet again, maybe making a habit of it. I just feel so much better knowing that she chose adoption for him, knowing why, knowing that we're able to stay in contact.

But there's always guilt...

Why do I get to be the one to be their mother? They are such wonderful kids, so funny and smart and loving. And it's not like there's anything special about me, anything that makes me better than the families they came from. I'm just lucky. I have a great husband, money in the bank, family support, a house, insurance, etc. I'm able to adopt because of all of these things. And they weren't able to keep their children with them not because they are bad people, but because they weren't lucky. No money or poor health or lack of support... they can't control that.

They're no worse than me, I'm no better than them. So why do I get all the rewards? Yeah, hard to swallow sometimes....

So I guess that brings me to where I am now. Right now I am either friends with or at least follow a couple dozen different families. Some families I'm rejoicing for, as they add a new child by birth or adoption, and others I'm rooting for as they strive to enjoy their life together. Other families, though, are going through such incredible pain...

Two are struggling to build their families and have been for a long time, with lots of fits and starts, and oh man am I crossing my fingers for them!

Another just found out a few weeks ago that she and her husband are getting to keep their foster children, a son and daughter, after years of seeing children come and go and hoping to one day be forever parents. The joy was shortlived. Her husband died right after finding out the good news and the woman is left behind to try to pick up the pieces, emotionally and financially, for herself and her children.

And of course there's the family who lost their son in a contested adoption when he was over a year old. The kicker with this one is that they very easily could have ended up with Ambrose and we could have ended up with their son in the same scenario. I am glad, of course, that we have our sweet Brosey and that P did not lose yet another important person in his life, and yet I'll admit that in some ways I do wish it was us, that they didn't have to suffer and lose a child. It's not fair, to them, their family, or this sweet baby boy.

I find myself questioning our luck, my luck, frequently. How easily could it have been us in one of those scenarios? Why wasn't it us in one of those scenarios? Why are we so lucky? Will we have a situation in the future, such as a loss or illness, that makes us one of the 'horror stories'? Am I awful for being more emotionally torn over sad situation closer to my own situation and not those happening in situation far outside my own, such as the horrors at Darfur?

I don't know, I think I'm a bit too philosophical sometimes... and I think I can get swept away in emotion.

And right now I'm feeling sad, deeply sad, for the families I know facing loss. I wish I could do... something. Anything. To change it, to make the loss have not happened. And yet I know I can't and it makes me feel so hopeless.

*Sigh*

I supposed right now all I can really do is hope and pray and offer support and hope that someday, somehow, maybe things will work out just as they should.

"Only Child" Time

2011-09-01T10:53:00.000-07:00

A few years back before we had Ambrose P was, obviously, an only child. Granted he was born a 3rd child then joined a family where he was one of many, then went to an orphanage where he was one of 39 in a small trailer sized home, but you get the point. I spent A LOT of one on one time with him, especially since we had no other children and preschool hadn't even crossed our mind. In fact, I was so adamant that I wanted to homeschool that I got angry when someone even mentioned such a thing as preschool and suggested it had benefits. And public school? Right out. Seriously, right out. My kid was staying with me.

We spent whole days at the kid's museum with a packed lunch, had our every waking moment planned around his sleeping/eating/pottying schedule, and made him the absolute center of our universe.

I would be lying if I said I never got frustrated. In fact, I was frequently bored and sometimes even angry. Yes, I had wanted this life and yes I'd do everything in my power to make it work, but come on! Up and out the door by 7am most days? Spending up to 7 hours straight at the kids museum up to 5 days a week? Spending hour after hour after incredibly tedious hour playing the same games over and over again?

Yes, I loved him and yes I wanted to be there for all the really important things and even the really mundane things, and more often than not I truly loved our time together. But sometimes it just stunk.

Having to amuse one child on his own without a sibling, and constantly being asked if he was my "only", really made me feel ill. I have two older siblings that I wasn't raised with and whom I loved though I rarely saw them. I was raised as an only child really and when I think back to my childhood two things always spring to mind: total silence as I played quietly by myself in my room every day, and all of the one on one interaction with my mother, which I loved but my goodness would I have loved it with a sibling closer in age to me!

We were so happy to finally make P a brother through Ambrose's adoption, happy that he'd have that close sibling relationship and that we'd now have two little boys to occupy ourselves with.

Admittedly, though, that last day alone with just Paxton... and our last Friday night "date" just the two of us while Nik was out... yeah, that was hard, incredibly and tear jerkingly hard. I was so excited about our new addition and yet... P wasn't an only child anymore. And suddenly all that time, all that precious, precious one-on-one time... it was gone.

Ambrose came home and P was aaaawesome. Oh, he was angry at me, and tantruming, and waking up early, but he loved Ambrose with every fiber of his being, and still does. Shortly after P started preschool upon a counselor's recommendation, meaning that in just 3 month's time I went from seeing Paxton all day every day, to only having afternoons with him after nap, and even then I always had to attend to Ambrose first. Paxton didn't seem to mind all too much, he got a lot more alone time with Nik which he hadn't really had before then, and it actually seemed to do him good.

With P in preschool suddenly Ambrose was my "only child" for much of the day. It was... odd. My one-on-one child had been a 4 year old, but now I was one-on-one with an infant. It was a lot of getting used too!

At the beginning of Summer I have to admit I was a little sad, again. I was losing my one-on-one time with Ambrose, having to find activities that would fit both brother's needs. This meant not attending about a zilliion baby/toddler activities because P would be too big, and instead bringing A to things that were "too old" for him and helping him safely amuse himself, as well as finding middle grounds.

Yesterday was my first alone time with P in a long time, and it was grand, seriously. I think I'll have to ask Nik to let me "borrow" my son a couple times a month so we can do that again!

And today... was my first real, full day alone with Ambrose.

I took him to Triangle Town Center.

I used to be there every day with P when he was newly home, meaning just about Ambrose's age, size and development.

Ambrose did just about everything P would do: try to open the locked stores, run to see the fountain, ask for cookies from the shop, etc. And the playground... P and I were there just about every morning, for a couple of hours, just the two of us alone on a padded playground. Today it was me and Ambrose, us sliding down the same slides together and hiding in the same tunnels together.

I have my only child time again, and it's beginning to feel just like it did the first time. We're able to do the same things and he's at the same level.

Only this time... we can communicate. And he's attached. And we have other mom friends we can meet. And I know how to amuse him. And he's physically healthy. And I'm not worried about potty training or not eating enough or getting his clothes dirty. And I actually know what I'm doing and what to expect from a toddler.

And I don't have him two mornings a week.

And I don't have him when I drop him off at the gym.

And I don't have him when I drop him off at church.

And he doesn't sleep on my chest for nap like P did as a toddler.

And I'm not planning to homeschool him.

And I now know what it's like to make a child an older sibling.

This time... I know, truly know, how incredibly precious and utterly limited our "only child" time is.

Those moments spent sitting on the floor staring into his big brown eyes, singing with him the same song over and over, playing with child's toys... it's so valuable, so priceless.

Those moments he loses control and yells or hits or throws himself down... it's only temporary, it's just frustration, it's not hatred, it's not personal.

Those moments he asks for a small candy or to go hug a stuffed animal, using the best enunciation he can muster... treasure it, reward it, love it.

Some day, sooner than I think, it will all be over. Someday I'll be sitting here staring at the clock as the minutes slowly click down, signaling the end of his first day of Kindergarten.

Just like I'm doing with my first "only child" right this second....

(11 minutes until I need to put Ambrose in the stroller and head off to pick up my sweet little boy, who has been gone too long...)

And thus, Summer is over...

2011-08-31T16:47:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was our last "Summer Trio" day. We spent the morning at the science museum in Durham, where I splurged on train tickets and a huge lunch at Elmo's Diner, things I've been thinking of doing all summer. After nap I decided to skip the gym. I really need to go more, but I just couldn't bring myself to drop my children off at that moment. So we went to Chuck-E-Cheese instead :) A quick, simple dinner was followed by a long, deep bubble bath and two happy brothers who went to bed a little late. And with this... our normal summer was over.

***

This morning I packed Ambrose a lunch, dressed him up nicely, and took my boys to the preschool for A's first full morning. He was soooo, excited, running as fast as he could toward the door with Paxton right beside him. I snapped a quick photo of them outside the room, on some benches. The were both just so happy...

And then I dropped off my "baby" and said good bye, knowing I wouldn't see him again for 4 more hours. And yes, it was both a bit hard for me and yet also such a relief to know that he was in such great hands and that I could focus just on Paxton this morning.

***

Paxton wanted to see his old class and teacher, so we headed up to say hello.

"Look, mom!" he said excitedly, pointing to the playground. "It's all still there! Just the way it always was!"

He looked for the tricycles and was beaming when he found them in their correct place, waiting for tiny bodies to ride them later on.

He hugged his teacher and said hello to his younger friends, still in preschool.

Then he bragged about how big he is, how he's in Kindergarten, and how he can do so many cool things now.

He wasn't sad to leave them anymore. He truly understood that they were still there when he needed to see them, that they didn't abandon him, that they didn't disappear. Life is continuing and he is not forgotten.

And once he truly understood this... he was ready to move on. With confidence and happiness, his anxiety and sorrow washed away with the reassurance that he is still loved and this world he lives in is truly a stable place.

***

I took Paxton to Marbles. He and I both messed up a couple of times and started to talk to Ambrose, then laughed at ourselves because of it. We bought tickets for an IMAX show, Born to be Wild 3D, and played for a few minutes before heading over. My goal this morning was to do something with P that we couldn't normally do with Ambrose, and a 3D movie sounded perfect! P wasn't convinced but a quick trip to the concessions stand helped him change his mind :) We both LOVED the movie and I hope to see it again sometime, maybe even soon. HIGHLY recommended, made me tear up and it was just beautiful.

Afterwards we played a bit more at the kid's museum, just like we used to, just the two of us.

And then...

He stepped into this thing, this weird jutting-out-cage thing, and...

We had started going there when P was barely over 2 years old, less than 30 lbs, and only about 32 inches tall. He had looked so short in there, a tiny person in a large space, and that's how I've always thought of him.

Today his head was scraping the top. He's outgrowing this...

***

We got some lunch at Moe's afterwards. He didn't want a children's meal. He didn't want the drink or cookie that came with it because he "doesn't like sugar anymore" and wants "real food." So he ordered a taco salad, and ate all the salad but left most of the edible bowl. I had a few incredulous people ask me if what they saw was really happening. Yes, yes that's my big boy.

***

We picked up Ambrose, which seemed easy at first. He didn't run to me but was happy to see me. They commented on how verbal and intelligent he is, and how polite. Obviously I was quite pleased :) Then we left. I picked Ambrose up to put him in the car. It took me five minutes to detach that child from myself! He wasn't upset, not in the least! Just hugging and kissing and cuddling and smiling, going "mommy! Mommy!" I felt bad finally forcing him into the carseat but I gave him a few extra hugs and kisses, and soon we were on our way.

***

Nap went off without a hitch. My boys were so good, so very good...

When they were asleep I went to check on the chickens. Talk about growing up... there were two eggs in their nesting box!

Then I came inside for a shower. I ran my fingers through my hair and came away with a couple loose strands. Not abnormal in the least, no, except that both of these strands... were white. Totally white. For a minute I thought, "Oh good, I'm losing the white ones!" Then I came to the realization that I probably just have so many white hairs by now on my head that the odds are increasing when it comes to getting two white hairs in one pass. *Sigh*

***

When the boys were up, and Nik home early, we all got ready and walked to the school. P was nervous but he calmed down when we got there. The principal greeted us warmly, again, and walked P over to the board to find his new teacher. Then he showed us how to get to Mr. C's room. We thanked him and walked down to the room, where we got to know the space and filled out lots of paperwork. As I was filling out a volunteer form (for the second time... silly back button on the side of the mouse!), it struck me that this is real, this is really happening. I have a child in the public school system. Wow....

***

We went home and I made dinner. Our Produce Box is delivered on Wednesdays so I had some fresh Kale and Butternut Squash to cook up, as well as some Mexican rice with black beans, and a side of fresh cinnamon chip bread. Dinner was a hit :) Afterwards we went outside to eat a watermelon together and watch the silly chickies run around the yard (usually with Ambrose chasing them). On the way down the stairs I tried to hold P's hand.

"You don't need to hold my hand, mom. I'm in Kindergarten now."

*Sigh*

Outside we ate and watched and ate and watched. We noticed one of the chickens was missing and found her in the nesting box. Laying an egg. Right before we went inside we checked on her and sure enough there was a fresh little brown egg!

***

The kids are in bed now. P's probably asleep, and A's close behind. Today was... long. And wonderful. And sad. A day of growth.

A day where my baby started preschool.

A day where my big boy met his teacher and really moved on to that new level emotionally.

A day where our little flock began producing eggs, two months ahead of schedule.

A day where I found more white hairs.

A day where I watched an incredible movie about people caring for young and watching them grow into independence....

Today was wonderful.

What a fitting end to an incredible Summer!

Transition Week

2011-08-29T11:02:00.000-07:00

Today: Ambrose's first (half) day of preschool, from 9-10:30. I was there for half an hour.
Tomorrow: The last day of our Summer Trio, just mama and her boys. Oh, sure, we'll have weekends where we'll let Nik sleep in, and holidays, and "sick" days (my boys are rarely sick!) but this is the last official day of summer fun!
Wednesday: Ambrose's first full morning of school, 9am-1pm. Just me and Paxton that morning!
Wednesday afternoon: Kindy open house, find out his teacher and class, meet his classmates.
Thursday: P's first day of Kindergarten, all day.

Next Monday is Labor Day so no school, so we won't be starting our "normal schedule" until Tuesday. Weds I'll have them both in school, which is awesome because I have a dentist appt then and being able to go to the dentist without having my mother or husband meet me there, an listening to the kids play/laugh/scream/bicker in the next room, just sounds dreeeeamy!

If everything is going smoothly in a couple of weeks, and neither boy seems to need any extra attention, I'll probably see if I can help out in P's school's media center maybe every Wednesday morning. I'm such a dork, I've actually been looking forward to doing that since my mom used to help out when I was in middle school!

I'm beyond being sad and to the point of being soooo excited about this year! Paxton cannot wait to return to his school, and we'll be lucky no matter which teacher we get! Ambrose is the same, he loved his class and already learned the names of the classmates he was with today. I'm just so excited for them, and kind of excited to see how this new schedule treats us. P won't be taking a nap most days, A will be on an odd schedule for awhile, and I'll have only one (the one I can't hold full conversations with) 3 mornings a week. Pretty soon the library storytime will start back up, and the community center beside it will be open for "tot time" in the mornings again. The weather is starting to get cooler, gas prices are going down a bit, we have two birthdays coming up, with 3 major holidays coming up around that same time (4 if you count New Year's!). Oh, and our anniversary, which happens to fall on both our 10 year HS reunions 8-O . Not sure what we're doing about that yet....

Okay, so, just need to get through this week... I can't wait to be back in the swing of things! Ah, we're going to have soooo much fun!

Yesterday...

2011-08-26T11:18:00.001-07:00

Oh, yesterday was exHAUSting!

Okay, so in the morning I packed a lunch as well as $2 to buy lunch, just in case, and we all got ready and walked to school together. P was super psyched and it was actually a very fun walk and talk. We found that they're apparently testing 15 or so kids a day for 5 days, then deciding their classes at the end of that. Paxton was lucky (?) and somehow got to be in the first day, and all 5 teachers were there to spend time with the kids. Some were sad, some were super happy, and some were really quiet and shy. Okay, correction, one was super happy. My kid. Yeah, Paxton followed the TA to the classroom smiling and dancing the whole time.

So we left him there, and it did sting a little but everyone was so welcoming and happy and knowing that there were 5 teachers, 5 TAs, and a couple other adults with a grand total of 16 kids made me feel pretty confident that P would be attended to :)

So we got home and Nik left for work while I headed out to the Dr to drop off A's preschool medical release form. Then home to pick up a bag I left by the door, then out again for a playdate where I stayed a couple hours (and looked at my phone a bunch, just in case the school called me), then home briefly for lunch. I decided I didn't feel like lunch as A and I had eaten so many yummy snacks at the playdate. So I got some gas and had my oil changed for way too much money, but at least Jiffy Lube made my care pretty clean and topped off my AC fluid.

Then I went home, got Ambrose in his stroller, and headed off for the school. I was early and Ambrose was bobbing so I walked a little further to put him to sleep, then walked back to pick P up.

I was half expecting to find him crying or angry or in trouble or, well, something bad.

But there he was, sitting calmly and waiting for me. He did look a little sad until he saw me, but then his face lit up as he cried out, "Mommy!!!"

One of the teachers told me how sweet he was, that he's flirted with her, and that she was trying to "steal" him for her class. As we were walking out another teacher leaned in and told me that they were fighting over him, that they all wanted him in their classes. Turns out my little boy turned up the charm a million fold and was perfectly good all day! I am totally cool with this :) I also much acknowledge that they probably say these things to tons of parents, but even so it felt good!

P was in good spirits, only having one moment of "no, I want to stay at school!" but otherwise he was great on the walk home, though I sweated buckets!

After we got home and cooled off, I took the boys back to the doctor (20 minutes one way) to pick up A's medical form, then came home. I was going to head to the gym for Pilates but I just couldn't motivate myself! Instead I put away dishes and laundry, and made dinner from scratch :)

At 6:30, when the boys were fed and close to conking out, I grabbed my bag of snack foods and took off. It was time for Ambrose's Parent Orientation at his preschool :) It was a fun night, though to say I was a bit tired and spacey by then would be an understatement!!!

I got home around 9 and ended up asleep pretty early, which means before midnight. This morning we all woke around 7am, a good time for the boys. When I went to Paxton's room I discovered a surprise: his overnight diaper was bone dry! I asked him about it and he was just so happy and proud of himself!

I'd been telling him for awhile now that if we could be done with buying his overnight diapers then we'd have extra money for things like ice cream. So of course when I hold up the clean diaper he cried out, "I want an ice cream cone!!! Oh, oh, with ICE CREAM on top of the ice cream cone! I want an ice cream cone WITH ice cream!!!" Haha!

And just when I thought I couldn't be any prouder of my little Kindergartener, I find that Ambrose wants a popsicle, so Paxton happily gave up going out for ice cream in order to get a popsicle and share it with Ambrose outside, just to share his joy with his baby brother.

Wow.

Sometimes that kid blows me away :)

And, oh, hey, there's a hurricane coming.... here's hoping my boys do well during a Target shopping trip. Ditz that I am, I finally realized that we may in fact lose power like we seem to do every time it rains. And we still only have one flashlight and one candle. Sooo, my fun plans for this afternoon is to tackle Tar-jhay with two exuberant small children. Woohoo!

... I'm not sure I'm ready...

2011-08-24T11:35:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the day.

Tomorrow... we'll all wake up, early probably and yet buzzing with energy.

I'll put his lunchbox in his backpack, on top of the pencils and crayons.

We'll grab the bag of classroom supplies.

Shoes on, breakfast eaten, baby in stroller, we'll walk together as a family...

It's only 15 minutes to his school.

And I'm not sure if it will feel like forever, or if it will blow right past.

At 8:30am we'll drop him off. Wave bye-bye. Give a kiss and hug and watch him walk away.

And then... it will be five and a half hours before I see my boy again. He'll meet new friends I don't know, have interactions I won't witness, even eat lunch without me.

And you know what?

I'm happy for him.

I'm happy that he's starting what is one of the most wonderful and incredible journeys in life.

I remember going to school, meeting friends, story time, singing, playing, recess, lunch, laughing, jokes, learning, and growing as a group.

And my sweet 'n spunky Paxton... Tomorrow he starts that journey.

Oh, sure, it's only a "testing" day. He won't go to school again for another week, won't even know his class or teacher until next Weds, and our time between that will be spent having fun together. I'm really looking forward to Wednesday morning when it's just the two of us!

And yet... it's the longest he's ever spent in a school setting, and it is sort of setting up not only the year but the next 13-20 YEARS of his life for him.

It's the end of the baby period, the end of innocence.

He's going to come home speaking about things and words he learned from his friends, he's going to get in trouble here and there, he's going to disappoint now and again, and he's going to really grow up.

He's entering, officially, the "school age child" category.

And there's no going back.

You can't return to being a baby or toddler or preschooler.

He'll be a schoolager for a looong time.

And... I'm so proud and happy and excited, but also so sad to see his pre-school age end.

*Sigh*

Though, seriously, I bet he won't sleep all night and he'll be a pain in the bum in the morning and when it comes to actual drop off I may just be pretty happy about it at that point.... but for now I'm weepy!

Not so good, right?

2011-08-23T10:34:00.000-07:00

So some days I feel like a Model Mom. My children are well dressed and well behaved, I'm patient and articulate, we all have good, clean, Suzy Homemaker fun, and I catch people smiling at us happily as if to say "wow, isn't that family just awesome?" Seriously, it's nice.

Most days we're more down to Earth. My kids might have some stains on their clothes or need a little time out or reminder here and there, there might be some whining involved and I may raise my voice a bit in warning, but generally we have a great time and the public in general does not at all mind our presence and, again, we receive lots of smiles (helloooo conspicuous family!).

Then there are days like today.....

Hmmm, how do I put this....

I don't THINK we were doing anything wrong. I mean, my kids were being wild little boys on the indoor playground at Triangle Town Center, as were another pair of children whose mother I was speaking with. We were all there first and for a long time before anyone else showed up, and not to say we owned the place or anything but really if people did not want their children to play in the same area as a bunch of squealing, running, rolling-down-the-padded-slide-backwards-all-together kids then, well, they may have just wanted to walk on by and come back in a few minutes. We didn't exactly come in and destroy anyone's peace, you knew who the crowd was before you stepped foot in the place, don't act surprised when the four kids who were running around when you got there continue to run around and *gasp* even approach your children and ask if they would like to run around too!

So to make a long story short... we got some nasty looks. Some VERY nasty looks. I might even go so far as to say I was THAT mom today (though there's no actual definition of THAT mom so I'm pretty sure all moms are THAT mom 24/7). Ambrose ran up the slide the "wrong" way. A totally padded slide in at totally padded playground, running towards children who were laughing and playing with him and having a blast. And no one got hurt. And ooooooh, the glaaares!

Paxton, big brother that he is, tried to help a toddler down the slide by putting him on his lap. The mother came and took him off his lap and put him behind telling him he should go down on his own. Again, glares.

Kids ran around and raced and tumbled and knocked into each other and had a blast, not just my kids, but for me and the woman I was talking to... yeah, the looks were coming our way.

And when P was playing with a friend who had been happily playing with him for several minutes and he accidentally fell on her and she started to cry?

OMG, I thought someone was actually going to smack him or me.

The mom pulled her 4 or 5 year old daughter up and marched off with her and a younger sibling. I called P over to talk about it and have him apologize, but the mom left in a hurry. I sat back and caught one other mom (the Queen Glarer if you will) arms crossed, totally smug and assuming look, looking me straight in the eyes (and yet somehow down her nose at the same time...).

Thing is... I truly don't believe my kids were doing anything wrong.

And truth be told I'm a little upset myself. Let's just say we have some history with this playground and I'm little worried there may have been some racial issues at play given the specific scenario...

Anyway... today was a pretty good day in that my kids had fun and I had fun and I met a really nice woman and we got to do everything we'd planned to do (coffee at Caribou, get energy out on the playground, story time at the bookstore, lunch at Moe's, home in time for a good long nap).

And yet I could have done without the smug glares and huffing loudly when near me with a sharp glance my direction and the total and complete *silence* from the other moms who seemingly refused to speak with each other and only whispered to their children (it honestly felt like they were listening to me and my new friend...).

Oh, and that mom who left in a hurry? Yeah, as soon as I walked out she walked right back in. She'd been waiting for us to leave. Another mom I saw in another place and she continued to just staaaare at me with this incredulous look, like "how DARE you live in my world?"

Ugh.

Seriously, I was thiiiiis close to going up to her and saying "honey, if you perceive some sort of threat to your children and your only action is to just stare at it as if you're better than it, then your kids have bigger problems than my boys asking them to play tag."

I am so weird.

2011-08-19T12:36:00.000-07:00

Am I a normal mom? I mean, I *think* I'm a normal mom... but I also think I'm sane and rational, and I hear that is up for debate in some circles (*cough cough, husband, cough*).

I mean, there is no very explicit definition of normal, right? Not all moms babywear or rearface or make baby food, not all moms use carseats at all, not all moms live in this country or society. So how can you say a "normal mom" would use a Snuggli or a "normal mom" wouldn't let her kids stay up late on a school night? What about children with medical issues who couldn't possibly use any baby carrier? What about people who live in a place where schooling is unavailable? How could you say a "normal mom" would only feed a certain type of food that might only be available in certain parts of the world? How can we say that "normal" must meet our culture, our beliefs, our values?

No, I think a "normal mom" is simply this: Someone who loves and cares for her children, often in a way befitting of her culture and usually in a way befitting of her child.

Some moms use CIO, some moms co-sleep until they're 7. Some moms send children to preschool as infants, some teach their children basket weaving and working in the fields. Some sing lullabies, some rock them to sleep, some put on sound machines, some have nannies or other caregivers. Some moms are related to their children by blood, and some moms aren't.

And some moms realize when their kid needs a good ole silly laugh. When his face is scrunched up and his arms are crossed and he's refusing to do a simple, easy project. Sometimes a mom realizes that the project isn't all that important, in fact it's quite inconsequential, and that having fun and enjoying your time together is more important.

Even if it garners you some seriously bizarre looks when your child goes around showing off the project and still talks about it to strangers days later...

One more full week...

2011-08-15T12:16:00.000-07:00

... of normal life.

This Saturday we have P's new school's open house. We'll walk over as a family and "discover" the school together.

Next Thursday he has his first day of Kindy, a shortened day (8:30-2) where he'll be tested on basic things like colors, reading, parts of a book maybe, etc.

The following Monday we have A's first day of preschool, another shortened day (9-11 I think) where I'll drop P off at my mother's work which is nearby and be with A while he gets his bearings.

Wednesday the 31st is a big day. A will have his first full morning of school, 9-1. We'll also find out which class P will be in and from 4-5:30 we'll get to go see his new Kindy classroom and meet his new teacher.

Thursday the 1st P starts school for real.

And the following Monday we all start up our new schedule: P out of the house from about 7-3 every day, A in preschool 9-1 Monday and Wednesday, and me with some actual freetime on my hands.

Morning story times at the library or bookstore will be just for A for a long time. I'll hardly see P in the afternoons. Dinner and bedtime will be rushed, and nap schedules totally altered.

And we'll survive and adapt and it'll be just fine and all good.

And we really do have a lot of time between now and the week when the new schedule goes into full swing, plenty of days to wander a kid's museum or play in the park or even visit the splashground like I've been planning all summer.

So now... I guess I'll just have to get over my "post-vacation" funk and get on with it, with having fun and just enjoying my sweet little boys as they are right now in the life that we have right now.

Because the next time we get a whole summer off? They'll be six and a half and two and a half and they'll be wild and fun and probably playing with each other even more and enjoying each other even more. But they won't be the same. We won't get this time back.

On that note... I really need to go wake those crazy boys up so mama can make it to her yoga class! I haven't worked out in almost 2 weeks!!!

Funtown

2011-08-13T18:50:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, I was in LOVE with Funtown. The Astrosphere! The Sea Dragon! The fried dough!!!!

Last year we didn't go to Funtown, instead picking York's Wild Kingdom so that we could fit both a zoo and amusement park into the same trip. It was... okay. Fun, yeah, but far away from my sister's house and pretty expensive for rides that literally have not changed one bit in 20 years. Seriously, I don't even think they've cleaned the glass in all that time...

So this year it was Funtown. And I have to admit, I was excited. At the same time, though, I was completely prepared to be disappointed. Either the rides would be old and crappy, or they'd be totally replaced and unfamiliar, and the food would probably be overpriced and awful, and the lines would probably be too long, and we just wouldn't enjoy it.

I was wrong.

So, so wrong.

We only had like 5, maybe 5 and a half, hours. And it felt like minutes....

I could go on about the wonderful emotions the rides brought back, how the feeling of riding the Casino again made me feel like a free spirited tween on the beach for some reason, or how the music from the Astrosphere made me want to run and dance and, iunno, just be young and dreaming about all the wild stuff I'd do in the future.

Yeah, it brought me back. It really, REALLY, brought me back. And even better? I got to see my kids enjoying my own childhood memories.

I can vividly recall driving the Antique Cars when I was very little, probably P's age, and to see P ride them over and over again happily... and go through the boat ride, and the log floom, and the tea cups and squeal on the bumper boats... Yeah, totally awesome. I can't remember back to A's age so no idea if he reacted the same as me, but still, it was quite awesome.

So, instead of prattling on, let me make this post all neat and organized:

High points for Paxton: Riding with cousins, listening to all the staff, making friends easily, having a blast.

Low points for Paxton: None that I recall. Seriously, this place was sheer Heaven for him.

High points for Nik: Rides, tilt-a-whirl, seeing old friends, spending time with both kids, being right about something for once (*grumble grumble*).

Low points for Nik: He may have been right about something for once, but that doesn't keep me from handing him a stinky baby and saying "oh Daddy, looks like it's time for a change!" and running off. Haha, revenge! (because I can never be wrong!) Also he didn't realize we were already off a ride and sat around at one point, missing his last chance to ride the Astrosphere before they closed. Next year honey!

High points for me: Seeing friends, being with family, ASTROSPHERE!!!, reliving childhood, watching kids actually live their childhood, just having a really fun day with many people whom I really love.

Low points for me: Being wrong about something for once (seriously, it was just a stupid debate about what would be in my "veggie sandwich" and I was more pessimistic than necessary), feeling pulled in a few different directions, not enough time!, big sister wouldn't let me go back every day and just pitch a tent and live there (*grumble grumble*), and I'm sure there's something else and maybe I'll whine about it later. Oh, and I forgot to get fried dough and had to settle for cold churros.

Ambrose:

He gets a whole section. This? Was a totally new experience for him. Last year when we went to York he was 10 months old and couldn't experience it really, just sort of sat there in an Ergo either sleeping or looking grumpy. This year he was running around everywhere.

He really enjoyed the people, loved holding his cousins hands and screaming "run!" and running headfirst while dragging them along. He really knows how to wrap people around his little finger! My little stinker :)

The rides kind of blew his mind. My sister and I took him to a boat ride, just a small kiddie thing where the boats go around in a circle and you can ring the bell or play with the steering wheel that doesn't do anything. Ambrose was intrigued and walked over happily to investigate, pointing and saying "boat!" The guy in charge came over and asked if he wanted to ride and took his little hand, walking him over to a boat. Ambrose picked out his boat and sat down happily. My baby likes to sit in odd spots.

Then the ride started.

See that death grip on the boat?

Yeah, you can't really tell from a picture, but the kid was practically catatonic. His head wasn't moving. His eyes moved to me every now and then and then they'd just phase out in front of him, half bugged out, in shock.

I'm bad. I laughed. Then I took him off when the ride was done and cuddled him.

Next was the kiddie section, with a carousel. He just wanted to sit on the bench with me, which seemed a little silly since there was no one on the ride (and almost no one at the park!) and it was just going around for two people sitting on an immobile bench. But I've learned from my children that sometimes you need to be a bit wasteful in order to adjust to something new and truly enjoy it later on.

So we went around on the bench while he took it all in. Then we moved on to the helicopters, a ride nearby. You sit in the little helicopter and there's a bar you can pull that lets you go up about 5 feet in the air. Ambrose was scared at first, very scared, but my brave boy wanted to figure this place out. I mean, what was the POINT of all this? Why had we brought him here? How did any of these odd sights and sounds make sense? And why were we all so excited about it? What the heck was going on???

We boarded the little ride after he picked his helicopter and we got situated, again being the only ones on the ride. I was cuddling in as the ride started, just marveling at my sweet little boy. I placed my hand on his side to keep him steady and give him comfort. Without even looking, his little fat hand came to the back of my big hand and pushed it on to his stomach. He squished my hand into his stomach for a second before lowering it back to his lap, as if to say "I am wary but I know I will be safe if you just hold me tightly." He continued to scan the ride and take it all in, trying to process it all, while I just stared at my marvelous little boy. Ah, how I love him!

Soon he figured out how to make the ride go up and while he was still pretty wary about it for awhile, he made it stay in the air most of the time, only letting it go down briefly so that he could experience it going back up. "Back up," he'd say. Or "up high." Not excited, just calm and calculating. My aware little boy needs to figure out his environment before he can really sit back and enjoy.

He rode that thing like 8 times. He was a master of it by the end. And, oh, he enjoyed it!

Also, he got one ride on the Antique Cars.

There was no "figuring it out" time. I think it blew his mind into little bits of sheer joy. I had to pull him off that ride. He was stiff as a board, shrieking like a siren, and pounding me with fists. "Again, again!" The park was closing, they were locking up the rides, but dang I was almost tempted to give in (some how!).

As for the carousel, we did a few more rides. After our initial bench ride, we tried a ride with him on the horse and me beside him. He was upset but put up with it, half sitting on me as it went around. The next ride he was straight on the horse with me there. Our final ride of the night?

He loved having mommy beside him, also on a horse. We were having a "race" he told me. All in all it was an excellent afternoon/night.

Paxton and I have spoken about a dozen times about the rides and what we'll do next year and what was our favorite and can't we just go back? (I'd so love to!) We're pretty much counting the days :)

And Ambrose?

Ambrose loved the rides by the end. He loved the food and the lights and the sights and the sounds and the whole shebang.

But his favorite part?

He has asked me where D and B are a few times now and claps at their names. Yeah, the boy loves his family, and they love him.

We really have to do this more than once a year!

Good to be home!

2011-08-12T12:24:00.000-07:00

But also good to be gone!

We just got back from Maine, where we spent 6 days with family and friends either lazing around or going out and spending too much money to do really fun stuff. Like Funtown! And Jokers! And Crescent Beach! And... um, other stuff!

So, before I forget our fun vacay, let me go ahead and bullet point it all....

Friday: Nik took off work, P went to Summer Camp, Nik took A to the kid's museum while I packed, then we all headed to the airport that night. Plane left at 8:16pm from Raleigh to Dulles, got a coffee at Dunkin Donuts, another planeride from 10:30 to midnight. Both kids traveled well. Ambrose fell asleep at 12:30 at the baggage claim in Portland, P conked out an hour later once we were at my sister's house.

Saturday: Kids up at 6am. OMG. I complained a bit but since my sister, a nurse, was just getting in at 8am and wasn't getting a chance to sleep.... um, yeah, that shut me up right quick! We met my newest nephew, S, 7 months and said hey to my BIL and older nephew. Took my niece and our boys to Portland's kids museum and played there, got lunch, went home. Kids got some rest and then we just hung around that caught up while P and B played video games.

Sunday: Went to a bounce house, Amato's for lunch, home for a rest, then Drive in that night. It was a double feature, Rise of the Planet of the Apes and Captain America. I saw about half of both movies since there was a lot of chasing A and buying ice cream and realizing the Chinese place messed up our order and eating a jumbo popcorn for dinner. Oh, and yeah, I did take my 1.5 and 5.5 year olds to see violent movies late at night. And they had a blast. As did we. Now I'll be searching for drive ins. (I should note that A finally fell asleep around 11 and P around 1:30.

Monday: Slept in a bit I think, 7am maybe? Decided to hit my two childhood nostalgia places this day. Went to Smiling Hill Farm in the morning to stare at animals in dirty cages that hissed at us (the animals, not the cages silly!). Got lunch there from the pissiest person ever and had great ice cream and local soda. Then on to FunTown, which was AAAWWWESSSOOOOMEEE!!! beyond all reason and I was totally tempted to just go back the next day until my sister, being older and wiser and knowing how ridiculous I am, pointed out that it's always nice to leave wanting more instead of being there all day and getting miserable and sick of it. I agreed. I also promised P we're going back next year. Seriously, I will fly up there just for that... and family of course!

Tuesday: Beach day! Also, melt down day! P hasn't had melt down that bad in a loooong time! Exhaustion and emotional stuff caught up to him and he was just gone. It was pretty bad. But we were able to wrangle him to get to the beach and he was happy. On the way there in the car Ambrose fell asleep and a totally exhausted P saw him and cried out "Ambrose took my naaaap!" I kind of chuckled and handed him A's baby blanket and said "well, why don't you cuddle up under this and see if there's any nap left in it?" He couldn't find any, poor thing, and mumbled about how Ambrose had taken all of the nap out of the whole world just for himself. We had fun at the beach, not much swimming but lots of splashing and playing and once the snacks were out P and A refused to budge until the bags were empty. A can be a picky eater sometimes, but on other occasions he's like P: He'll stuff himself silly and still ask for more. We headed off to Macaroni Grill after that, then went home and swam and showered. P had another meltdown so Nik cuddled him to sleep at 6:30pm. A went down an hour later and Nik and I had a great evening with the BIL and my older nephew and niece playing Apples to Apples, both kids and adult editions.

Wednesday: Kids woke up around 6:30 and P was in a MUCH better mood. We had met some old friends, travel companions from our Ethiopian pick up trip, at FunTown just by chance and we decided to head out there on this day since my sister was working both an 11-7am shift and a 3-12 shift (and she has a little baby, AND two other kids, AND pets, AND houseguests, OMG!). We took my niece again since my older nephew said he needed a break from his sister :) Also the family has an almost 9 year old. We went to a mall and to a Joker's in the mall, which is like a Chuck E Cheese only more expensive and with more rides and a bigger jungle gym. P and B had fun there and A had fun just running around after a 3 hour nap in the car/stroller/arms. We headed over to the O family's house and got to spend the afternoon with them. Paxton played with their two sons, both from Ethiopia, and B ran off with their daughter and her friend making lots of loud girly squeals. A hung around us for a long time at first being shy and then just enjoying being the center of attention. P had another brief meltdown and I went and did some pretty drastic "counseling," basically telling him "I think that seeing this family again and seeing their son again reminds you of the orphanage and of that scary time when we came and took you home and how scared and angry you were." P told me he was trying to think if I was right or not but his head just hurt and he couldn't even think. I hugged him tightly and told him that it was okay to feel this way but he couldn't hide or growl or make angry faces, though he could always come and talk to me about it or we could sit together and cuddle. That calmed him down and he went to have a really fun time. We went to dinner later at a Margaritas in Auburn and I'm pretty sure everyone there hated us! Three squealing preteen girls, 4 little boys including a toddler who was running all over the place, grabbing balloons and having them fly off, laughing and being loud, the kids stuffing their pockets with afterdinner mints, etc. But our waitress was actually extremely upbeat even if we got a lot of dirty looks from the other patrons (should I mention how white this town is?). We left for home after that and had another night where the kids went to bed at a good time and where N and I stayed up and played Apples to Apples with family.

Thursday: Last day :-( We decided to just go play at the mall, keep it low key. I packed, said good bye to the dogs and to BIL, and headed out with my family. I almost lost it when we drove away from the house... We had fun at the mall, but I was certainly a mix of emotions. Nik told me he wasn't really sad, just having fun on vacation, knowing we'd be back again sometime to do it all again. A didn't care. P was a little grumpy. And I was somewhere between manic and weepy. We spent too much money trying to fit a bunch in and it was over too quickly. I took a ton of pictures of the good bye hugs with the kids. I feel bad that P and A can't live closer to their beloved older cousins or the new baby. They left and we spent some time at their Chuck E Cheese, just chilling. Then we went to the airport, ate, and left. Kids conked out on the plane this time (P on the first flight, A on the second having made a "friend" out of a nice businessman on the first flight). Got home a little after 1am.

And just like I started this out... I'm so, so happy to be home! But at the same time, I miss my family so much :( I think we're going to have to find a way to do this more than once a year, if only to keep the cousins growing up "together".

Okay, time to be done with computer time and get back to real life. There's laundry to put away and still more to do to "set up" our house again. Shopping is done, chickens are out and happy and will return to a clean coop with fresh food and water, dinner planned and ready to go when I start cooking in an hour, carseats are all situated in the right cars, etc. But the lawn needs mowing and the kids need a good long soak and even with a nice long nap they may still need a bit of an earlier bedtime just to catch up so we're not off all weekend. And I think I just need to get my mind back to North Carolina after a week of "going home" to Maine. Gotta get all this fresh air and cool weather out of my system I guess :-)

Until next year...

Summer's End...

2011-08-02T11:43:00.000-07:00

So it's August now. It... came faster than I thought it would. Last year I was just hoping to survive until August. Two small children, one hot summer... yeah, I was eyeballing the start date for preschool pretty heavily. And you know what? Last summer actually ended up being wonderful. Idyllic. Fantastic.

So this summer we said "screw summer long summer camp, and forget about swim lessons. Let's take it day by day and have fun! I want this whole summer to be a vacation!"

And you know what?

It has been.

It really has.

We've spent whole days at Science museums, hours just bouncing a ball at the park, we've had impromptu ice cream and french fry lunches, and the juice boxes (and mochas!) have flowed freely. Sometimes TV time goes a bit longer than it's supposed to, sometimes dinner is an hour late, sometimes we keep the kids up past our bedtime, and sometimes we go to a really fun place just to play in one area and we don't regret it in the least.

This week P is in summer camp, just for a week. It's throwing me off a bit, having only one child, but it's been good. He's spending a week at his old preschool, capping off his preschool years if you will, and he's doing it with four of his old classmates. He's painting, snacking, reading, and splashing in a pool making a grand old mess. The kid is soaking wet and has an ear to ear grin plastered to his face every day. He's having a blast, as is his younger brother who's loving the one on one attention he gets, and then loving the brotherly affection he gets later on as they make up for their time away.

But we can't do our "whatever" thing this week. There's no "hey, let's go out of town for the day" last minute decisions. There's no lunch out or morning playdates. It's scheduled again.

Next week we'll be in Maine which is AWESOME and I'm so happy I can hardly contain myself, but again, we'll have to be a bit more scheduled (and Funtown is on the schedule, woooooo, Astrodoooooome!!!!).

And then we're back.

And we have a week and a half...

A week... and a half...

Eight more play days. Eight more days of visiting a farm half an hour away just to sit in their corn room. Eight more days of hanging out at the mall, eating snack food and rolling down the slides backwards. Eight more days of lunches at home, of books at naptime, of brothers giggling in bed together, hiding under the covers while playing some unnamed game.

School starts on a Thursday.

And there will be no naps, and no lunches at home. N will be walking P to school. If they leave early, and A sleeps late, I may not actually see P at all until I pick him up in the afternoon. If I continue my schedule at the gym, and I plan to, then P will be dropped off most afternoons for an hour there.

Our days will be scheduled. Our evenings rushed for dinner then an early bedtime. There will be conversations in the car, homework, meetings...

And sure there will still be fun and crazy times. There will be weekends and vacations, plenty of them, and it will probably be such a fun and happy and wild ride that before I know it we'll be back to summer again, back to wild and free vacation land.

But for right now... I see Summer's End nearing.

And already I miss it.

Already I grieve a bit that this fun, fun time will be over soon.

P will probably do just fine in school. He's so social, so smart, so kind. He'll make friends quickly I'm sure, and there's a distinct possibility that my little charmer could end up a teacher's pet. And he'll most likely love it. I can envision him leaving the house each morning with his daddy, excited for the day. I can already hear our future conversations about his time at recess and his favorite stories from class. He goes on about his friends at preschool and at the gym, people he's grown close to, places he loves to be, and this school.... he'll be there 6 years of his life, more than he's lived already.

I'm excited for the start of it. But I'm sad about the end of summer. I'm sad about losing what we have now. And, really... I'm going to miss him.

I'm going to miss his serious tone of voice as we hold the most ridiculous conversations. I'm going to miss hearing the laughter of my two boys all day. I'm going to miss their every day/all day dynamic. I'm going to miss seeing his face light up as I put down a special lunch in front of him. I'm going to miss reading him a story before nap. I'm even going to miss butting heads and sending him to his room.

I'm going to miss him.

My sweet, kind, witty, silly boy who laughs so hard his whole body shakes....

*Sigh*...

And seriously, what am I supposed to do with this toddler when his brother isn't here to amuse him???? Eep!

The Healing Child

2011-08-01T11:44:00.000-07:00

Years ago there was a big controversy over this family having a baby in order to use her cord blood to save her older brother. I heard a lot about how she was "used," how it was unethical, how she was somehow less than human (or at least being treated as such). The family went to news outlets to assure the hysteric masses that they did truly desire a second child and had been putting it off due to their son's illness, and that they were extremely delighted that they were able to not only finally have their second child but also save their son's life.

It was an odd controversy to me. I mean, the family wanted a second child anyway, they absolutely loved their daughter, and their story, to me, is nothing short of miraculous.

I didn't know then that I would be in a similar situation years later.

Oh, no, neither of my children has a horrible illness (that I know of, fingers crossed!), and I certainly could not provide any cord blood to either of them.

What I'm talking about is how A really helped to heal P.

Way back when, in our life before Ambrose (which I can hardly remember), P was very hurt. Very, very hurt. He was hurting for his first family and couldn't find the words to talk about it. He was hurting for his lost memories, and for the painful memories he did keep. He was hurting for all the changes, all the shifts, the loss of innocence, a child made to process adult emotions again and again at an age when his biggest concern should have been a dropped lollipop or a balloon floating away.

We wanted a second child, so badly, and yet on some level we were so worried. What if a second child made life that much harder? We were already giving our all to P, what if less attention hurt him irreparably? What if jealousy completely overtook him?

And yet, in my heart, I knew it would help. I knew it would be a blessing. I knew that as a single child P was lonely, scared, isolated. He needed a sibling, a co-conspirator. He needed someone who looked like him. He needed someone to dote on, someone to care for, someone to love. He needed someone to slap him back, to steal his cookie, to laugh and dance and look at books with. He needed a brother.

And it was perfect, wasn't it? We wanted more children, and we were betting and Ambrose would help.

And, oh, did he ever!

Oh, sure, those first few months were hard. P absolutely LOVED A, he would feed him and give him toys and hold his hand in the car and sing him songs and tell him stories. But he was waking up super early (think, up for the day by 4am daily) and he was very, very mad at me.

But as time has gone on, things have gotten better, easier, happier.

P's hard, rigid, tough exterior melted away. The surly mini-adolescent de-aged back to a preschooler, aided by the daily reminder of how to be a child. Sure, preschool helped here, but he was also able to see a baby growing daily, see him every morning and every afternoon and every night and all day on the weekends and holidays.

In a sense, as A has grown from a newborn to a toddler, P has grown with him. He is so incredibly verbal now, something he's struggled to become given that he just has so much swimming around in his head that he needs to talk about. We know, from our conversations, that being there for A's first couple years helped him to, in a sense, re-live his own first couple of years.

The rough infancy, the separation, the fear... and with it, the physical milestones, and the knowledge that he was once this size, that he once did this, that he was once so tiny and helpless, that he'd been loved and cared for. As I would nurse A I would tell P how he had been nursed by his Amaye. We would talk of his sorrow that she isn't here anymore, and of his pain over how I didn't nurse him, how I regret it, and how we need to process this, grieve this, and move on.

When A became mobile, a whole new world opened for P. Maybe it's because he turned 5 around that time and mentally he was in a different place anyway, but man the difference was stunning! He truly reveled in everything A learned to do, and suddenly started to ask about his own milestones as well. Instead of me bringing up his past whenever I saw him getting moody, he'll actually come to me and openly ask about his infancy, his life in Ethiopia as well as his life here.

I look back at where P was before Ambrose. I think of all the anger, all the sorrow, all the fear. And yet, he's been processing, learning, accepting. For almost two years now he's been helping Ambrose grow. He's been loving him, picking him up when he falls, reading him books, playing games, sharing his food, and even physically getting between me and A when I go to discipline him (you know, with my nasty time outs or wagging finger, I'm sooo mean!).

Beyond watching Ambrose grow, he's also watched Ambrose bond. He studied the baby's soft gaze as he looked into my eyes while we nursed, and suddenly P stopped giving us a sullen, pleading look whenever we locked eyes. It was replaced with a loving gaze. He watched how physically affectionate we were, and didn't hesitate to ask for the same thing from us. I would rock the baby then rock my big boy, hand them drinks at the same time, pop food into both their mouths, and cuddle them close and rub their backs.

P has seen how calm A is with being dropped off. He's seen his interaction with extended family and friends. He's seen how A responds to the world, how little fear he has so long as mommy and daddy are with him. And P learned from him. His heart calmed. His fear dissipated. His trust increased. No longer were we so hard to figure out, and no longer was the parent-child relationship so complicated. Ambrose taught him how it was done. He taught a child with anxious attachment exactly how to attach, how to relate, how to trust, how to love.

And P soaked it up.

Where are we now?

In a sense, it almost feels like we're done this journey. P was an estimated 24 months at homecoming, and A is now 22 months and bigger/more advanced than P was then. We're up to "oh, that used to be your shirt!" and "oh, you used to do that too!" and "you LOVED that toy when you were his age!" And the utter joy you can see in P's face blows me away. Suddenly, he has HISTORY, documented in photos and videos and countless stories. He has memories. And he is watching his own childhood play out in front of him, not the sad parts, but he happy parts. In a way, we're all reliving it. He was so upset as a toddler, so scared and hurt, but A isn't. A is just happy and bubbly and so, so uncomplicated. And it simplifies us all, heals us all.

P talks a lot now. He talks about his first family, his childhood. He talks about the unfairness in his life. Whenever and wherever he wants, because that's how we roll. And yet it's not so complicated anymore, not so raw. It sucks, it really, really sucks, and there are going to be times when it hurts to bad he'll feel like he can hardly breath. But that's not a daily truth for him anymore.

Ambrose is attached, fully and firmly. He doesn't have to worry about us abandoning him. He doesn't have to worry about where his next meal is coming from. He doesn't have to worry about losing his home or favorite foods. He just has to worry about having fun, and he does a great job at that!

Through his own innocence, his own peaceful heart, he really has mended our family.

Our second child, so wanted and desired and hoped for.... And our first child, who needed him so badly, who protects and cares for even as he is emotionally cared for....

We love them. So much.

We are so lucky.

The Invisible Path

2011-07-28T11:55:00.000-07:00

When it came to becoming parents, our journey took a few turns.

Get married, stop BCP, start actively TTC!
Discover infertility.
Change course.
Go to foster care/state adoption meeting, speak with professionals.
Turned down due to young age.
Change course.
Look into fertility treatments, more tests.
Just doesn't "feel right."
Change course.
VietNam feels right. Close my eyes and see Viet Namese daughter.
Just doesn't "feel like the right time."
Change course.
Maybe Kazakhstan?
Costs too high, worried over unethical agencies.
Change course.
Decide on Ethiopia, two kids age 0-4.
Begin prep, work on two free bedrooms, start homestudy, submit USCIS.
Social worker is not so good, only approved for one child 0-2.
Change course.
Signed and waiting.
Wait times increasing.
Equally ethical agency with lower wait times.
Change course, apply to new agency.
Old agency suddenly has lower wait times again.
Change course, return to old agency.
Put on hold due to age, again.
New rules might put us on hold another year.
Off hold, expect referral immediately.
A month and a half later finally get the call.
Court closure due to rainy season.
Bam, made it to the top of the list as soon as they're back in session, adoption flies by, home before we know it.

A's adoption was simpler really:

Research Colombia, start to apply.
Country requirements change.
Change course.
Research Ethiopia again.
Wait times drastically increased, trouble brewing with corruption.
Change course.
Change all paperwork to domestic, apply to referral service.
Situations seem perfect!
Service doesn't respond to tell us when we're not chosen, causes emotional havoc.
Change course.
Apply with new agency.
Apply for several situations, all of which we fall in love with.
Finally picked, not for baby born like expecting.
Wait a month, placed, finalized 8 months later.

So as you can see, our journeys so far involved quite a few "oh, I know what we'll do!" and "oh, I guess that won't work then..."

Many tears were shed, many heart wrenching decisions were had, many plans were announced happily and then taken back only a month later, etc.

And despite it all, we started this journey again, a journey to our third.

And that journey so far?
Adoption from Ethiopia!
Change Course.
Adoption from the Congo!
Change Course.
Adoption Domestically!
Change Course.
Scratch all that and try to conceive naturally with possible plans to try treatments!

And the thing is.... As much money as we've lost, as much hope as we've invested...

We might still be on the wrong track.

The paths that lead to our sons... they were hidden from us. Invisible.

We didn't know when we were calling agencies that work with Viet Nam about adopting a baby daughter that we'd end up with a toddler son from Ethiopia.

We didn't know when we were researching the plight of the Afro-Colombian people and tracking plane ticket costs that we'd end up adopting a baby boy from only two hours drive away.

And this time?

Months ago I was checking out adoption situations daily. Months before that I was filling out paperwork for the DRC. And right now every morning I'm charting my basal body temperature to find my fertile time.

And now I read that there's a possibility that Viet Nam might open for adoptions again perhaps next year, and part of me feels pulled again, back to where we were years ago, back to the land N was touched by when he visited, back to a cute little girl with thick black hair and, most likely, a cleft lip (that's how I see her in my mind's eye) and I wonder... what if that dream I had years ago that didn't feel right "at this time" might have just been a premonition for years later? What if it had to go on hold as we adopted her two big brothers? What if our TTC journey goes no where and we find ourselves in the position to adopt a year from now and, voila, Viet Nam opens its doors to international adoption to the US again?

And the crazy thing is... we don't know.

We don't know if Viet Nam will reopen. We don't know if I'll get pregnant. We don't know if the "right" domestic adoption situation will come along. We don't know if we may even decide we're done at 2.

We don't even have a hint at how this will all work out.

And....

That's awesome.

Really, it is.

Because how boring would life be if we were able to plan it all?

I mean, seriously, 10 years from now we might be in the same house, a few school aged children, me working my first "real" job, living a normal suburban American dream and loving it.

Or we might be running an orphanage in Zimbabwe.

We don't know. We'll never know until the path opens up and we decide to take it.

And it's the same with building a family. We have no idea, really, how this will happen.

Will we stop at 2 kids? 3? 12? Will they all be within 10 years over each other, or will they be spread out? Will we decide we're done then adopt again in our early 40's? What if we adopt two girls over the next 5 years, call our family "totally complete" and end up pregnant with triplets by surprise?

Before kids, heck before A, I didn't like all the surprise, the topsy-turvy journey.

Now?

Well, I'm more realizing that we're just along for the ride than in control. And with my guys by my side making life so happy and hilarious, it's not like I can get too bogged down in all the upsets and changed courses.

And honestly... I don't think I'm quite ready to be at the end of this journey yet.

It took just as long as it needed to for us to adopt our boys, even though it felt like decades. This time I'm a bit more chill about it, a bit more philosophical. It really will happen when it's meant to happen.

And I know a lot of my emotions surrounding that truth have to do with the fact that I just came out of the moody PMS cloud and life is hunky dory again. But really, isn't it better to have a positive attitude about all of this?

Okay, big kid up and wanting company, and little kid will need some mom cuddles soon. Off to continue enjoying the journey.

**Remember, the journey IS the destination!!!**

Hooray!!! Oh, wait... boooo!... ?

2011-07-27T11:37:00.000-07:00

So, just as my best friend told me last night, I have indeed been PMSing. Maybe that explains all my somewhat unexplained sadness these past few days.... or not. I guess we'll see in a few days, neh?

So according to number of days, I should have started a cycle last week. According to my basal body temperature, I should be starting a cycle next Monday. Looks like I ovulated last Monday, and today begins cycle #3. Meaning I have a luteal phase of 10 days, up from a luteal phase of 6 days last cycle.

A quick Google search shows me that short luteal phases and breast feeding go hand in hand, and that I my LP will likely increase in days. I can help it by taking B6, Vitex, or a B50 compound. I'm already on Vitex which is probably what helped push my LP by 4 days instead of 1 or 2, and I'll add a B50 compound next time I run to a store. Or maybe just buy the dang Fertilaid. Whatevs.

On the one hand...

Hooray! My cycle started!

I mean, seriously, this helps put a cap on it. All last week my temps were high, I was feeling a bit ill, and I was wondering if my temp spike was a pregnancy instead of ovulation, meaning that I was testing more than a couple times and worrying about it a lot. I don't have to worry about that now, and I can sample the nice sweet muscadine wine my mother wants to give me.

On top of that, I have another shot at doing more in the beginning of the cycle (like eating more yams and being better with my vitamins), hopefully my temps will even out this time as my body is now becoming more adjusted to cycling again, and maybe this cycle will actually have an LP long enough to sustain a pregnancy (12+ days is preferred).

On the other hand:

Boo!

I mean, a 10 day luteal phase makes it hard to become pregnant, especially if egg and sperm just hung out awhile. Not saying they even met this time, but it's possible. But I also know that a 10 day luteal phase is within the "can possibly work" area when it comes to pregnancy. It's a long shot, but it's possible and it didn't work.

Also I blew like 4 pregnancy tests last week. That's a lot of pee to have to deal with.

Oh, and now I get to have my period for a week, and I get to start cycling all over again from scratch, and I know I'll just be worrying again in another few weeks....

Oh, and I'm not pregnant.

And I know there's a possibility that I could be PMSing and seeing red every month for the next several months, or years, or even decades. I know there's a possibility that this could be my existence, that I might never become pregnant.

The first sign of red is always a blessing and a curse.

The beginning of a something new, something fresh, the body ready to give its all. The organs in working order, the old and failed flushing away. A week to not worry about cervical mucus or timed intercourse or tenderness or possible signs. A time to relax and refresh and prepare for the month ahead.

But also, a time of loss, of failure. A month containing so much hope and care and preparation, all gone, washed away in blood. Weeks more before you can try again, more vitamins, more planning, more care, and indefinite similar months stretched out before it.

I'm so lucky, so so lucky. I have two sweet boys to take the edge off, to hug and cuddle and love on. This is why I knew we had to adopt when we did. I could not even fathom going through this, month after month after month, with no child in my home. And I'm so glad we made the choices we did, even if it means that we've missed some window and might never get the chance to conceive or birth.

Ugh, my head is getting all philosophical and, well, think-y. And we're out of chocolate. And the chickens are out in the yard today meaning I can't run to the store and get chocolate. Dag nabbit :-(

Big Boy

2011-07-26T10:30:00.000-07:00

It feels like just overnight Ambrose has gone from being in that sort of in between baby/toddler stage, to being an outright small child. He just understands so much, says so much, and does so much now!

Our baby gate broke a few weeks ago, and we spent a weekend doing things near the stairs so we could monitor as Ambrose went up and down a million times on his own, excited in his new freedom and carefully figuring out how to traverse the stairs without a helping hand. Up had never been an issue, but he always tended to just throw himself down and after a few falls it was obvious that he needed someone holding his hand when he walked down. At this point he's figured it out and just goes up and down whenever he wants, running up to grab a favorite book and then back down to bring it to someone and ask them to read.

Oh, and books! My Lord the books! This boy is obsessed, and I love it!

Today we were at a bookstore, hanging off to the side while P listened to storytime. Ambrose found an animal book nearly as tall as he is, and carried it over to me. Then he ran and grabbed a stool and dragged it over beside another stool.

"Dit!" he called out as he sat down.

I walked over, looking at him sitting in the middle of his stool and wondered if he wanted me to sit beside him or on the other stool.

"Where should mama sit?" I asked.

He jumped right up, whammed his hands down on the other stool, and called out "dit!"

Then he plopped himself down and waited patiently for me to read.

We looked at the pictures as he repeated everything I said, answered questions, and made animal noises. What a doll!

P was a lot older before he reached this stage of caring about books, and I have to say I'm loving having two book worms. I can drive an hour to get somewhere no problem so long as they each have a book to look at. They'll even exchange them, or A will ask P "what dat?" and P will help him figure it out. At home I'll listen to them playing, then go check on them when it's silent. I frequently find them sitting in a pile of books beside each other, each enraptured by the pages before them, one reading new words, the other trying to make sense of new pictures.

People used to tell me that children really started to play with a younger sibling around age 2 or so and I have to agree! P has always been affectionate toward Ambrose, and A has responded happily to P since about age 4 months. They've been "playing" together since then, but their playing has taken on a whole new meaning lately. They can communicate so easily, they can play pretend games together, sing songs together, look at books together, and switch their food no problem. They're much more on the same wavelength. I'm almost a little worried about how lonely A might be once P starts school! Though I'm pretty sure absence will make the heart grow fonder :)

So I guess my whole talking about how astoundingly big A is has become me just blabbing about how big both my kids are. And they really are! P, coming in around 4 feet tall now, is huge and he's reading and he's got the most wonderful thoughts and concepts. He also says the cutest things! Just yesterday he told me that when he grows up he's planning to marry a woman and make a sperm for her, so they can have a baby :) Haha! I guess he's got the basics down then.

It feels like Kindy is fast coming. We have this week to just hang out and do whatever, then next week P will be in Summer Camp every morning, then we'll have a week visiting family up in Maine, then another week and a half to hang out. Then Kindergarten.

So fast!

I'm excited for my P right now. Hopefully I'll be able to keep that up! My first baby going off to school without me... Something I'm still not quite prepared for, especially after planning to homeschool for so many years! Fingers crossed he does well in Kindy, and A does well in preschool, and I do well actually having some free time on my hands. To, you know, do laundry and vacuum and stuff :)

Wow...

2011-07-25T11:31:00.000-07:00

I was contacted a ways back by a woman who adopted through the same agency as us. We had even been at the same orientation class, and I think I recall being in at least one other required class with her. I used to see her family's image in the Waiting Families link, which I scrolled near daily as the wait went on. They were even shown to A's first mother. They were placed only a couple months after us.

So please understand when I say that reading about their adoption nightmare, which came out of nowhere, was long and drawn out and costly, and knowing that their sweet, happy little boy was taken back after over a year....

Let's just say it's been affecting me.

Like, in the "look up everything I can on NC adoption law" kind of affecting me. And the stressing. And the worrying. And giving my own little baby extra hugs.

Granted, the situations are entirely different when it comes to first families (A's first family was set on adoption and upfront with us), and we've been finalized for over a year now, meaning that now A is "as if born to" our family.

Even so... maybe it's the fact that we came so close to having each other's sons. Maybe it's the fact that we used the same agency, sat in the same room, filled out the same paperwork. Maybe it's the fact that the pictures of her little guy look so much like A's pictures at the same age. I don't know.

What I do know is that when I finally Googled their names and found the results of the court case a few nights ago it literally knocked the wind out of me and I had to go grab Ambrose from his crib and just hug and hug and hug him (he was a bit annoyed as he'd been "reading" himself to sleep, but he laid his head on me to appease me so I'd put him down).

It's just too close to home, you know? And while I consciously know that the same outcome is all but impossible for our family, it has still been affecting me.

I think it will just take a few more days for me to process that things like this do indeed happen, and to people I've met.

In the meantime, I think I'll just keeping giving A extra kisses and cuddles, telling him I love him, and being thankful that I get the joy of having him in my life each day.

A complete family

2011-07-21T12:19:00.000-07:00

So I'm a few days "late," which would mean something if it weren't for the fact that last month I had my first cycle in 2.5 years and AF was a week early. So being a few days late? Yeah, maybe I'm right on track. Iunno. Either way, it's BFNs all around and I'd just like the witch to get here already so I can move on to the next cycle (and perhaps stabilizing my cycles as well?).

Anywho, the past couple days I've been giving a lot of thought to the phrase "a complete family."

I see people on parenting boards of all types mentioning this.

"We finally have our baby, our family is complete!"

Or

"A was happy to meet her little brother today, our family is now complete!"

Or

"We just want one more child to complete our family!"

To which I always question

"How on Earth do you know when your family is complete?"

I guess the problem is that we don't really know what the future holds. A "complete family" could be stricken by divorce, death, custody issues, etc. And then on the lighter side, a "complete family" might change their minds and want to give birth again once all the kids are in school, or adopt a sibling group, or foster, or have a surprise baby, or have a surprise adoption of a relative, etc.

I guess the thing is you can say "where my family is right at this moment feels like how I want to be forever" or "I am not planning to alter my family in any way" but really, how much control do we have over it?

I guess the reason this has been sticking with me so much right now is that, well, some part of me does feel that our family is complete. And another part doesn't.

And I guess the only way I could describe it is that our family feels complete right now.

I mean, sure we could have an adoption fall on our laps tomorrow and that would be great, or I could become pregnant which would also be great.

But if neither of these things happen...

Well, I can tell you that I would probably be pretty upset if 5 years from now we still only have 2 children instead of the 3+ we were hoping for.

And yet as I am today, as we are today, right this second...

Life is pretty damn wonderful.

My older son is reading and writing and so excited to start Kindergarten. He's snuggly and sweet, intelligent and witty, and so remorseful when he does wrong.

My younger son is cute and cuddly, learning a million words a week, loving his world and all that's around him, making friends and trying so hard to learn all about his world.

They are obsessed with books, both of them, and they love animals. They play so well together and fill our days with joy and laughter. They cuddle us and each other and just love on anyone they know, heck even total strangers. I'm always being stopped by people who've interacted, however briefly, with either of my children, always being told how sweet and polite and confident and talkative they are.

We have our happy home, our loving marriage, our wonderful children.

Aren't we a complete family?

And yet, can't a complete family still want more?

Can't I still long to see the double lines on the test, hear the heartbeat and the doctor's office, feel the flutters and actually bring a child into this world? Can't I wish to experience the bonding again, the discovering each other again, the whole new space that opens in my heart that was secretly set aside again?

Can't I wish for that while still enjoying my dream come true?

Or is it too selfish of me to ask for anything more when I already have so much?

Yes, I know, many families have more than 2 children, this is not abnormal at all.

And yet, I look at my family how it is now and I wonder how I can complain, how I can worry about pregnancy tests or charting BBT or royal jelly, let alone treatments and such, when I have so much around me.

I guess I'll just have to learn to live with the fact that I'm human, that I can be content in almost all areas and yet still strive for more, and that that's okay.

To conclude, let me share a small story from today:

I had purchased a box of First Response tests and decided to screw the first morning urine thing and just take it already. I mean, the box said I got one "free" so I figured, hey, why not use it? Either it's positive and that would be awesome, or it's negative and that would suck but it's not FMU so I could try again if I wanted in a few days.

So I go to take it, and Ambrose follows me in. And tries to snatch the pee cup to drink it, screaming "wat-eeeee!" I saved it, but he got the box with the other two tests and ran off. P brought me one, questioning me on what it is, which I dodged totally unsuccessfully (meaning he'll find it and ask Nik later). Then I found Ambrose drumming the other test, and the box crushed on the floor, because isn't that what you do with boxes? Stomp them flat?

So yeah, it was a negative, a totally white test window and a spindly thin dark control line. But really? My kids were being adorable and having a blast. How could I get too upset over this? I mean, seriously, Ambrose thought the test was a drumstick, and he was grinning and dancing to it. Yeah, totally different from my test taking experience 5 years ago.

My boys make me smile :)

Singular

2011-07-19T11:55:00.000-07:00

So waaaaay back in college I got really into forums and message boards and LiveJournal and such. I was such a shy and awkward girl and I loved how you could just do a quick search and suddenly find a real community based around something you were truly interested in, a community where you could come and go at will, where you could easily censor yourself, or even take on a new persona.

I was never a troll, never started drama, and only a handful of times did I bite back when someone was blatantly rude (or trollish) to others, though I was polite when someone was mean to me. I just wanted the feeling of belonging, the community feel and the community knowledge.

I used this to meet people who were into video games, or relationships. People debating religion, people talking about their pets. I read up on marriage and weddings, and about housekeeping, and of course staying a geek throughout it all.

And then came the big day when I moved past all of those "here is fake me" into the really emotional territory: I joined ePregnancy.

I was aaaaalll about it for a long time. Years before we started TTC I had briefly joined because of their baby name page and my own fascination with names. When we were first married and just starting to try I remembered the page and, not knowing a thing about mommy blogs or mom groups or any of the other resources out there, I joined the one I'd known about years ago.

For months I watched others come and go, start to try and get their BFP, or give up, or start treatments, or languish a bit. I felt bad for those poor infertile women but I knew I couldn't be joining their ranks. I was 23, he was 21, and that alone made us fertile right?

So I blabbed about my symptoms and schedule, urged people one with baby dust and well wishes, and waited with bated breath to scream the good news that was sure to come any day.

It was on ePregnancy where I first got the idea to run a semenalysis. Another woman's husband had just had one and they only found one sperm, and it was dead. Suddenly all of the regulars on the board were talking about it, sharing insurance tips, and stories of what they had to do to convince their DH's or transport semen in bras.

I did convince Nik to take the test, obviously, but at the same time I also had so much hope. I just wanted it cleared, I wanted that bit tested and taken care of so we could move on.

Right before we got the test results back, I was so, so sure I was pregnant.

I was so nauseous, so ill, and I was a week late. My breasts ached, I was dizzy, and my back hurt. I was scared to test after so many BFNs, though...

I rallied the troops and spent a week talking about my symptoms, getting everyone to urge me on, to convince me I was pregnant, that I should test and take a picture of my oh-so-obvious BFP and post it online for all to see and have hope...

And I did test. And it was negative. And my period started. And Nik got his results in.

My hot-button post, which had reached a fever pitch right before I tested, petered out. And I moved on.

I continued to read every now and then. The woman who started the whole semenalysis craze went on to adopt from Russia and we, of course, chose Ethiopia and brought home Paxton a year and a half after all that mess.

I stayed out of forums for the most part for a long time. I updated my blog a lot but I wasn't really big on the whole "join a community" thing, especially after P came home.

When we were waiting for Ambrose, though, I did join a local mom-to-mom group and became so involved that I took a moderator position. Once again I found myself reveling in the sudden community, but this time it had a "real world" aspect. Instead of seeing nothing but pictures and tickers and little signiture bits, I can actually meet all of these people in real life. And that's what I've done, actually.

And now? I find myself backing off yet again. I have made my friends, and I have my group of real life friends...

But some part of me really wants the online community again. Some part of me still craves the ability to post online and receive dozens of helpful comments.

And yet I'm scared....

Because the thing I'd post about right now? Would be TTC. Again.

And that last time, a few years back, was nothing short of embarrassing.

People were excited for me! Happy for me! And I wasn't pregnant!

And I'm scared now. What if that happens again? What if I think I am and they urge me on and I'm not and I have to either leave or sit back and watch them all become pregnant as I remain, well, not?

But on the other hand I don't really want to become too involved with the infertility groups. What if I'M the one who becomes pregnant and leaves quickly? What if I build up friendships only to lose them a few months later? And what if I don't receive the pep talks I do need, and instead just receive advice about treatments I don't feel comfortable with at this time?

It's a fine line, a "where do I belong," that keeps me from even trying to belong.

I look at the local mom to mom group and I want to post, I do, but I can't tell where to click.

The infertility group? The TTC group? The general mommy board? The adoption group?

Where do I fit in?

For now, I'm just hanging back.

I won't be part of a group, not yet. I guess I'll just have to give it a bit more time and see. If it takes awhile I know where I belong, and if it doesn't I guess I have my answer then too.

But it's hard when you feel so... singular. And you just want to belong, ask questions, hear advice.

Ah well. At least that's just the online community I'm worried about. Now for real life? Guess I'd better get my butt in gear and set up some playdates soon! I'm missing some of my mommy friends!

Bleck!

2011-07-16T10:03:00.000-07:00

TMI y'all!

So I didn't have a monthly cycle for like 2.5 years. And during that time I forgot some things. And I was actually looking forward to getting back to it, not just for the conception possibilities but just because I want to be back to normal function again, y'know?

I wasn't too worried about cramps. Or bleeding. Not a biggie. Annoying, but not a biggie.

But I'd forgotten....

THAT'S what had made TTC so hard the first time around. The early pregnancy symptoms that were actually PMS. Uuuuugh!

So let's see, every month around the time I'd be expecting my period I get:
-Sick to my stomach
-Swollen, tender boobs
-Cramps and twitches in my inner lady bits
-Cramps in my belly button
-Cervical mucus
-Cravings
-Food aversions
-Extreme exhaustion
-Lower back pain
-Crazy mood swings

And then sometimes my period likes to be a few days late.

Yeah.

Fun times

Little by little

2011-07-14T11:46:00.000-07:00

This morning we went to the preschool (P's old school, also where A is going this fall) for a summer playdate. Several families showed up, as well as most of the teachers. It was great to see so many people, to meet one of the children in Ambrose's class this fall, and to get to catch up a bit. It was also great to see Ambrose interact and enjoy the school a bit. But the best part? Watching P.

P, like just about any child who has had a lot of painful separations in his early years, is very worried about the permanency of separation. For your typical American child you would probably see some separation anxiety, but for a child who has lost so many people and places and things, a child who lost an entire existence (food, language, culture, family, etc), separation means a lot more. So understandably the end of preschool was a very big deal to him, and though I've tried very hard to help him understand that A) he can always go back for a visit, and B) he'll make new friends and be okay, it's been hard.

I told him about the preschool playdate a few days ago and ooooooh the anxiety! His emotions have been swinging all over the place this week.

And yet, this morning? He was calm. Very, very calm and placid. He still huffed about a bit when it was time to turn off the TV and get dressed, and he was certainly impulsive and worried, shoving random items in his mouth without thinking (a nervous habit). And he even told me at one point that he didn't want to go to the school if he couldn't actually *go* to school. He wanted to go inside with all his friends and read books and play and draw pictures.

But a walk around the block before we left seemed to cool him off a bit, and he obediently got in the car and buckled himself in. And ooooooh was he excited when we got there!

The swings! The firemans pole! The big yellow slide! And OMG a swimming pool and bubbles and beach balls and... yaaaay!

We were the first family there which worked out well for us. The kids got to get reacquainted with the space before they got to see people again. I had forgotten their swim clothes but the preschool director helped me out by finding some extra clothes for them so they could splash in the pool. They played with bubbles and water and friends, and while P had a few shy moments he mostly just played and laughed and splashed about.

Oh, and food. There was watermelon and pretzels and my boys probably ate half of it!

P's former teacher commented on how calm and grown up he was acting, and he really was. I swear for awhile there it was almost like he was glowing. He was just so... peaceful.

He was happy, truly happy. The fact that life goes on and people can come back into your life was being reaffirmed for him then, and man was he excited!

It made me flash back to last summer, when he was all out of sorts for weeks and then we went to a preschool play date and he saw his teacher. Just like that time, it was like a huge weight just lifted right off of him.

It's like, little by little, he's starting to believe that this is a happy world, that people can leave and come back, that maybe he can trust us when we say he can just relax and enjoy his childhood. And he is relaxing, considerably. No, not as much as your typical American child, but he's not the bundle of raw nerves he used to be.

So all in all this morning was great. Great friends and fun and just a wonderful feeling throughout. And they totally crashed in bed after all that outside play! Two hours and they're both still out! ... or actually there goes the baby now.... ok, guess I'm done here!

So fast...

2011-07-10T12:15:00.000-07:00

Many days it hits me how fast they're growing...

How well P is reading now. How well A is speaking now.

I see them putting their laundry in the hamper and fighting over who gets more lap space for a book, I see P reading to A, see A initiating a game or sharing his food, and it hits me how fast they are growing.

I watch movies or shows, read articles or blogs, talk to people, and it all hits me that time is just constantly moving forward and it's all just flying by.

In a couple of months Ambrose will be 2 and Paxton will be 6 and in school. How? When? Weren't they just babies?

Someday, before I know it, they'll be gone. Out of the house, living their own lives. And then there will probably be grandbabies and they'll do the same thing, grow up and make a life for themselves.

And while I'm proud, so proud, it really aches.

How much longer before my boys don't ask for "huggies" and "kissies?" How long before an ice cream cone is not the greatest gift they've ever received? How long until I'm no longer cool, until they share their biggest secrets with friends they may only have for a few years instead of their parents who will be with them always?

On some level I understand that the desire to have another child is almost a way to escape the rapid growth of my children. A new baby, to snuggle and cuddle and love on as my bigger children keep getting bigger. But then that baby would grow and change just the same.

There are so many benefits to older children and teens and adult children who no longer live at home, or even those who do. So little responsibility on my part compared to a toddler, more help around the house, intelligent conversation, traveling together, sharing books, watching R rated movies, playing video games together, staying up late, fun homework assignments, and just watching them grow and become who they are meant to be.

And yet...

A tiny little body, not yet 30 lbs, running over with a book in each fist and a huge smile on his face and flopping into my lap squealing "book! Read!".... that will end soon, and while I can experience it with another child I will never have those certain individual and wonderful moments back.

The pure innocence of my children, their laughter, the silly things they do now... I will lose those soon as they hit on their next phases.

And the really weird thing?

I don't actually vividly remember or even desperately long for the phases they've already been through. I mean, yeah, I get all mushy and weepy when I'm staring at pictures of newborn Ambrose or toddler Paxton for too long, but mostly I just marvel at how big they are now comparatively and move on. So I know that it actually *won't* be a big deal once they leave this phase and grow a bit, and that I'll just get weepy over the next phase thinking that that's the best one.

So yeah, consciously I know I'm just a big ole dork who is plain weepy and just looking for an outlet. And yet.....

Today P asked if we could rush home from church so he could check on his new "fishy wishy" (his first we got yesterday and it died last night, so he's particularly worried about this new one we got this morning). And just hearing the silly words.... yeah, I kinda got sad knowing that would end soon.

Okay, have to end this, baby just woke up from nap. Time for little toddler cuddles!

Jaw dropping

2011-07-07T10:44:00.001-07:00

Some part of me really still wants the whole adoption thing to work out. I mean, we're still paper ready and still technically active with a couple of referral services and I'm receiving emails from a facilitator I contacted months ago, but still...

We're not hopeful.

Not about the adoption anyway.

I mean, part of it is that we really do want to experience the conception/birth aspect. I guess you could call it a life goal, one so common that most people don't even realize as a life goal until they don't get to experience it.

But even beyond that, I'm just so worried about the state of domestic adoptions.

Oh, sure, most agencies are probably doing well. Maybe a bit of a slow down as births across the nation drop and countries close their international adoption programs. But even so, I imagine that most agencies are holding steady as far as fees and policies.

I'm not seeing this with the referral services and facilitator.

What I'm seeing is drastic fee increases, which is really worrisome to me. It's not just about "wow I don't want to pay that" it's also "OMG, at that point it's not adoption, it's buying!"

Yesterday I received an email with an adoption situation for roughly $36K, not including the homestudy, TPR, post placement, finalization, travel or any other fees on our side. The agency fee alone was $19K, not including things like first mother expenses or legal fees.

Um, $19K? For an agency fee? WTF? I'm sorry, but there is no reason. Not even one reason. I understand that agency fees can be all over the board and they have to charge $$ to pay staff and handle paperwork and advertising, etc, but $19K? I mean, literally everything that was necessary for the adoption (helping out the first mother with her prenatal expenses, medical and legal fees) was separate. The NINETEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS was just so you could have the pleasure of working with them and matching with the first mother. They wouldn't even be advertising for you.

Oh, and an extra $5K to work with the facilitator who would match you with the agency who would match you with the first mother.

So TWENTY FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS just to meet up with someone, and THEN you can start paying the fees that actually are necessary.

As a comparison, we paid roughly $21K for all of Paxton's international adoption in '07, and that included agency fee, all legal, all travel, donations to the orphanage, etc.

And then there's first mother expenses.

I get that a woman making an adoption plan for her child should not have to pay for the costs pertaining to that child and her pregnancy. Really, it makes sense. Yes the adopting couple should cover co-pays and time off work and transportation to doctor's appointments and prenatal vitamins and maternal clothing. She shouldn't have to pay all of those things.

And yet I'm seeing higher and higher "birth mom expenses."

I saw one for over $11,000 last week! For matching with someone already several months pregnant!

I'm not entirely sure what's going on here. Is the agency encouraging this? Trying to entice pregnant women with free items for several months so that they're pretty much guaranteed to place through them? Are the first mothers in these instances just coming up with a list of fees and hoping they can get them all covered? Are there people out there willing to pay all of this in hopes of adopting a child? Doesn't it sound just a bit too much like you're buying a child instead of adopting at that point?

I don't know every situation so I shouldn't really make any judgments at all. It's just that I find the cost of adopting has jumped so drastically in such a short time period, and it's like no one has noticed. And as much as I can sit here and complain about what it is now, what about the fees we paid for our children? Sure, they all seemed pretty accountable with P, but what about with P? And what about the people who adopted several years before us who could look at what we spent and gasp in horror, wondering why we'd be nuts enough to pay that amount for services when we all know it doesn't really cost that much?

Ugh.

Just thinking about money when it comes to my kids gives me the willies. And thinking that someone, somewhere, could be profiting off of their adoptions... Like, not just paying the bills kind of profiting, but actually making money hand over fist.... yeah, that creeps me out. And so whenever I see adoption situations come through for like $35K or $44K or whatever I just cringe and feel ill, because really, that's a life you're playing with. Hell, lives. First parents who may feel coerced because of all the money spent on them, adoptive parents spending their savings on the chance to raise a child, and a helpless little child who may miss out on the best home for them entirely due to crazy high agency fees.

Okay, rant done. I'm going to keep perusing the various adoption situations, because you never know. And we're still exploring fertility options and even looking a little into foster care, though Nik's a hard sell (and really so am I) so that's in the "maybe someday" category. And thus, I'm off... to do laundry and perchance get a little rest in bed before the kids pop up.

Snippets

2011-07-06T10:46:00.000-07:00

I lost my temper yesterday. The morning had been going well, and we were enjoying a trip to the Science Museum, when Ambrose started to tantrum. Screaming and flailing and fighting me hard as I struggled to buckle him into his stroller. Once I had dealt with him, Paxton presented his own set of challenges, namely that he didn't want to leave even though it was lunch time and his baby brother was shrieking so loudly that people all over were coming over to see what horrible things I was doing to this poor child. The cheap umbrella stroller I was using does not let me push with one hand only (pushing with two hands is hard enough!) so I essentially had to beg and plead and command and threaten with P to get him out of the Discovery Room, over to the elevators, down to the correct floor, and outside the building. By the time we were up to the street I think I had steam bursting from my ears!

Paxton, who had gone from obstinate to angry to sobbing to morose, and back again, suddenly called out, "Mom, STOP! Look over there! Mom, I have something to show you! MOOOOMMM!"

Oh, I flipping flipped out on that kid! I flung around and cried out, "What? What do you want to show me? Is it a good attitude? A "I'm sorry mommy?" What is it? Is it something I actually want to see right now? Huh? IS IT?"

He was quiet for a second and I could tell he was about to flip out on me too, but then.... he, my little 5 year old boy, decided that it wouldn't help. And he took a big, deep breath and pointed off in a new direction.

"There, mommy. There's a farm stand over there. They have vegetables. You like farmstands. I thought you'd want to go see it."

I could have cried then.

There was, in fact, a somewhat out of place little farmstand set up right up next to the road in front of the huge Science Museum. And my little boy had seen it and knew how much I drooled over fresh, local produce. And even though I was in a pissy mood and he was in a pissy mood he still wanted to make me happy.

So, long story short, we bought some peaches and ate them on the way home, we all said our sorrys and gave kisses and hugs, and I'm pretty sure my 5 year old is more mature than I am sometimes.

*****

Today Ambrose brought me one of his favorite books. He has many favorite books. They are all picture books with animals. He's in love with all things animals, loves to see them, touch them, look at them, read books about them, pretend to be them, make animal sounds, etc.

So he brought me a book and he knew a bunch of the animals, and he would tell me the animals or make their sound. But a few he didn't recognize. He kept saying something, sounded like "wadaco," over and over again and looking at me. I would always tell him what the animal was, to correct him, and keep going.

Then I figured it out. "Wadaco?"= "What's that called?" It became obvious when he shortened it a couple times to "Wadat?" I was actually pretty impressed!

We went to the gym so that I could embarrass myself horribly in zumba, and they played in their respective nurseries. When I went to pick Ambrose up one of the nursery volunteers gushed about how smart he is, and how he brought her a book with animals and how he knew the names of every animal in the book. Yup, that's my boy :)

*****

Nik is out tonight at a company game night. The whole family is invited but I figured the kids might get in the way, and they might not enjoy it so much. Though maybe next time I'll drop off P with Nik and let them have their game night together :)

*****

I am currently obsessed with point and click adventure games. And on that note, I will now post this and go play a point and click adventure game.

*****

Oh, and it's raining here more frequently now. My plants love it. And we have a great July 4th with my parents over, and an impromptu cook out. Only downside was that P burned his finger on a sprinkler. Oh, and we're letting the chickies roam the yard on afternoons we're here. They're very tame and P just picks them right up. They just eat bugs and weeds then return to their coop for the night. And they're super cute.

*****

Okay, game on!

Sweet P

2011-07-02T06:14:00.000-07:00

He wasn't happy last night. He's been "in a mood" ever since preschool let out, maybe even before. He's very vocal and he'll outright say "I'm not happy and I don't want to be happy and I'm not going to let you be happy." At least he's honest...

We went on our big late night family date last night, and while much of it was fun, there was a long period of "I'm going to sabotage tonight" kind of behavior. It was frustrating to say the least. At least we did have many wonderful moments and by the end, just like every other time, he was having a blast and we were all sad to see the night end.

We got home at 10:30, a whopping 3 hours past their bedtime, and they were asleep by 11. And up around 6:20.

The little one was happy and chipper, but P? Oh no, not him. He was impulsive and upset and grumpy and whining and complaining and then hyper and completely ignoring us, etc. Yeah, sleep deprivation, I know, totally there too.

When he got into a spell (not uncommon for him) of listing off all the things he wants and doesn't have, I looked up the Veggie Tales episode of Madame Blueberry on Netflix and showed it to him. He watched the whole way through and afterward we tried to talk to him about being grateful for what he does have instead of complaining about what he doesn't. I had him stand up and look around the room and list off the things he sees that he's happy to have and is thankful for. He couldn't list a single thing. Not the TV or computer or toys or books or DVDs or anything. "But I want blahblahblah and I want blabeblu and I want..." Yeah, frustrating morning.

He also has this whole "Oh, poor me!" thing. I mean, literally, he says that. "I want Mario Kart... Oh, poor me! Poor Paxton!" Yeeeeah.....

So this morning I was tired. And I got up super early and didn't get my breakfast or anything, just cared for small over tired children. Finally when Nik said he'd take them both this morning I was done. I plopped myself down in bed and just sort of collapsed in on myself.

I heard P come in the room while Nik was getting Ambrose dressed. He walked in and instantly started whining. "Moooom, why are you in bed? Why are you laying down?"

Ugh. I literally could not speak I was so tired. All I could think was "please stop the noise and let me rest!"

And he did.

I thought he'd left for a second when suddenly I felt it. A small kiss on my shoulder, the only place he could reach without climbing on the bed.

"Good night mommy," he whispered softly, then exited the room very quietly.

To say it melted my heart is an understatement! I know it wasn't some big, overwhelming moment of pure bliss or anything like that, but a sweet, simple gesture, totally unprompted? Yeah, I needed that!

And so they're off now at the kid's museum and I'm left to just sit on my butt and figure out how to waste my morning. I think with grocery shopping. I would have gone to the doctor's office to see about treatment for a molluscum that's become infected, buuuut they're close until Tuesday and it's not really bothering me enough to go to Urgent Care. And so I guess now it's time to stop dilly dallying and deal with my shopping list. Mmmmm, Whole Foods, the land of the yummy bakery food.... perhaps a scone today? Or a muffin? I love grocery shopping!

Huh

2011-06-27T11:16:00.000-07:00

So as part of our "taking control of the TTC process" Nik and I have been reading up, both in books and online. We want to figure out the various ways we could naturally up our chances, see what options we have, etc.

So I found something kinda interesting last night...

See, the fertility specialist we spoke to, and the doctors that Nik has talked to already, have really made a big deal out of Nik's poor semen analysis. IVF is the only option, perhaps we could get by with IUI's but really, IVF with ICSI is pretty much it. I mean, so few sperm! So little motility! And what horrific morphology!

Yeah, we're talking like 20million sperm, 40% motile, with only 2% of proper morphology. Really, really bad. They want us to have at least 80 million sperm, like 75% motile, and at least 50% of proper morphology before there's any chance of conception. The specialist we saw even mentioned that Nik's low morphology was due to DNA issues and how messed up they were, how they couldn't make normal babies.

And then, once I got past all this same stuff over and over again on the internet, I found something interesting....

The WHO (World Health Organization) standards.

Normal for them?
At least 15 million sperm (oh, wow, we have that!)
At least 40% motile (yeesh, right on the dot there...)
And normal morphology? Can "get up to" a whopping FIFTEEN percent, but really anything over 3% is normal. And some clinics say 2-6% morphology is totally the norm.

Ummmmmm.....
Sooo....

His semen analysis isn't actually that far off from a regular fertile man?
Could my husband be, dare I say it, actually fertile?
Are we not fighting some great uphill battle against numbers but instead actually well within the realm of possibility?
Are fertility clinics just trying to make money by telling mostly-fertile or sub-fertile men that they're infertile to the point of sterility and that they NEED IVF with ICSI (as expensive as it gets pretty much), knowing full well that couples will pay it and that the relatively normal sperm should work just fine and up their numbers?

The more I'm reading on this (now that I know what to look for) the more I'm baffled. I mean, part of me is going "then why hasn't it worked for us yet?" and the other part is still like "wait, he's pretty much normal? Just at the low end where his little spermies could use some improvement, but not nearly as bad as we were told?"

I'm... elated! And excited!

And even though it hasn't worked for us yet....

Okay, we've been together over 9 years, 4 on birth control then like 12-18 months off, then all birth control (hormonal or natural) up until now. So like 13-19 cycles in total, last month I had only a week long luteal phase, and the first time I was coming off birth control AND very overweight (like 80 lbs heavier or so, and I'm still overweight so I don't even want to think about what that was doing to my body!). So, yeah, it was a possibility but how likely was it anyway?

Is it possible then that now that I'm healthier and he's healthier, if he's normal and I'm charting and we're willing to do a few extra things (like fertility blend and acupuncture), is it possible this could work? Without all the aggressive treatments?

Honestly, I'm kinda psyched :) I know it's still all a game of luck and we're definitely on the low end of normal when it comes to fertility, but we're not far off, and certainly our chances aren't as bleak as we were told.

On that note, it's raining!!!!!!!!!!!!

We've had weeks and weeks of "it should rain today!" with nary a cloud in the sky. I was just teaching P about droughts today as we took a walk down by the neighborhood stream and he noticed that the water was almost non-existent in some places.

I know this rain hardly makes a dent in Raleigh's ever present drought, but every drop counts right? And the plants certainly don't mind :)

And so it, really, begins

2011-06-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

So I ovulated last week. Which was awesome, really awesome! And of course we then get the test results saying that Nik is still very much infertile (not sterile mind you, but the numbers are very much not in our favor!). And then confirmation that he does, indeed, have a varicocele. And then on Monday I got my period. For the first time in 2.5 years.

Oh, and I'm going to my first infertility support group meeting tomorrow. It's through the local mom's group I've been a part of for a few years now and only a couple people are going, but I'm still excited about it.

But at the same time...

This is real, right?

I mean, really, really real.

We're officially infertile and we're also officially no longer sterile (essentially what I was for the past 2.5 years). So we're now in those murky waters of "could conceive but not likely."

So this is really starting, isn't it? This trip through infertility madness. Charting and temping and looking for signs, acupuncture and herbs and consults, hoping and worrying and little jabs to the gut each month when it doesn't work....

Why are we doing this again?

Oh. Yeah. Baby.

Now that it's really real again, with test results in hand and yucky bathroom breaks, it's starting to hit me.

We're actually doing this. Actually going for it.

And suddenly I'm not so excited.

Oh, I'm excited about the possible end result, the happy new little person.

But all the waiting and stressing and worrying over every twinge and blowing money and time on things that likely won't work, at least not yet....

I don't know, I guess the big thing is that I'm worried about the emotional affect infertility will have on us.

Which is silly, right? I mean, we couldn't even ask to start out in a better place here!

We're young, we're not sterile, we're generally healthy, we have insurance and money in the bank, we have supportive family, we have several clinics and doctors and support groups in our area, we have a strong relationship, and to top it off we already have two perfect little boys who truly do light up our lives.

How many people taking on infertility could wish to be in our position? I mean, seriously, do we even have a right to complain?

But complain I shall. Because really? Infertility sucks.

Mind you, I am glad for it in a sense. I mean, had we been able to conceive easily we would not have our sons, and they are truly worth all of the heartache.

Even so, it's not exactly a fun ailment.

It takes away your choices, you control, over your own life. Want another kid? Well, it might take you 6 years and all your life savings. Want a large family? You'll be lucky if you have one, let alone two or three. Want to be all natural and leave everything up to fate? Well, you're screwed if you want kids then!

And then there's living with infertility. The awkwardness of other moms going into their birth stories of complaining about pregnancy symptoms, the heart ache of seeing big bellies every where, that yearning to be able to go into a maternity store or take a prenatal yoga class. Yeah, I know, it can suck the other way around. People get pregnant all the time without planning for it and struggle to support their child, and I'm sure that's frustrating and heartbreaking in it's own right. And I can't even imagine going through that only to lose a child to adoption.

Even so, this is the heartache I know, the one so many know, and it's hard because it is somewhat shoved in your face every day, especially once you already have kids. Pregnant bellies on the playground, questions about having another one, teensy new babies with siblings close in age. *Siiiiigh* don't even get me started on those dreamy new little babies....

Anyway, to summarize: We're doing this. The TTC while infertile thing. And it sucks, because we'd rather just do the regular old TTC while fertile thing. But at least we aren't coming from a bad place, at least we already have kids and from the start we know that failure is an option we can live with and success is probably likely given our resources. Even so, it sucks to be infertile and yeah, we'd so rather just be able to do it all the natural way.

Oh, and I'm so not joking about going overseas for fertility treatments. I mean, seriously, $15K for and IVF around here? When I could spend half that and treat the family to a month in Barbados or Thailand or India? I mean, even if you fail you still got the vacation of a lifetime! And I'm a bit too "outside the box" to just submit to a local doc saying "yes, you need IVF stat! Give us all your money and change your life to fit our program!" Um, no, not for me. We've lost enough control over our family building already, thank you very much, and we'd at least like the chance to reclaim it. On that note, I think I'll start shopping around for the perfect acupuncturist...

Quickie:

2011-06-16T12:31:00.000-07:00

Got test results on Nik back yesterday and, somewhat unexpectedly, they're actually worse than his first semenalysis years ago, the one that "defined" us as infertile. THOUGH, they're better than the three other tests we've had between then and now. Since his diet and exercise regimen has changed significantly from then, it's pretty obvious that this isn't something to be solved that way.

And today it was confirmed that he does indeed have a "small" varicocele, though the doctor doesn't think that repairing it will do any good at all. I may push for a second (third?) opinion on that matter because, really, what can it hurt to do the outpatient procedure to fix it?

On another note, I've been spending too much money lately. Since pretty much giving up on adoption #3, we were left staring at a hefty "adoption fund" that we decided we ought to go and use instead of hoarding. And so right now there are two very nice men finishing up our new back walkway, and tomorrow they'll continue working on our new deck. Maybe by the end of next week all the work will be completed and we'll have new doors, fixed gutters, a power washed house, new light fixtures in the kitchen and foyer, and power running outside. Everything that's being replaced was run down, broken, or even outright dilapidated. I mean, seriously, we've been using a stick to "lock" our back sliding doors for over a year now because the doors are so old that we can't even find a replacement lock for the one that brook, and the scratched up front door has no seal (lets in a lot of light around the edges, upwards of half an inch in some places. With no storm door. Yay bugs! Yay wasting power!

Anywho, aside from the home improvement, there's been Nik's BDay, where he bought "an art," then Father's Day, then our once monthly night date, then in a couple weeks my birthday, and yeah, money is going out. And I'm totally getting into this whole "spend more on food for better health" thing and I so feel better! But seeing my weekly grocery bill reach, then expand upon, the triple digits makes me cringe. What can I say, I'm a saver and a planner, not really a spender, and I always feel so guilty when I run my card! I mean, yeesh, I spent a whole $8 on snacks and drinks earlier today for me and the boys and I felt guilty for that! And we were hot and hungry too! I'm a nut sometimes :-P

Alright, this is a jumbled post. Sorry. Just trying to distract from that dang 2WW thingie that I guess we're getting back into. It's not really so exciting now, having the results in. We were totally expecting things to look much better! Ugh. But I guess there is still a possibility....

And I guess we can try naturally for awhile, and just see if it works. Go to a chiropractor and acupuncturist, take royal jelly and lots of zinc, maybe even go in for another consult at a different clinic. And if all else fails... well, I hear the "fertility tours" in India aren't all that expensive, and I have always wanted to visit :)