I want to be like them when I grow up!

Over the past few weeks my sweet husband and I have been working on completing admission paperwork to the Attachment and Bonding Center of Ohio. This extensive process has us creating narratives of our entire journey with our persevering preschooler. Starting at the beginning, in that dated hotel room in Russia, we began to lay out every step. Every step forward, every step backwards, every misstep.

These narratives include mainly our concerns and issues, and very little of our successes. Which we have done purposely, because we know our little guy needs help and we want him to get it. We know our entire family needs help. Despite our leaps and bounds we still have a long way to go.

And so we have been remembering the chaos, the sad, the am I the only parent who feels this way questions. Not fun, for sure. But because of this forced trip down memory lane we have also found ourselves pointing out how far we have all come since those fateful days in that musty Russian hotel room. And I do mean how far we have all come, because this journey does not just belong to our youngest son. We have all been on the rocky road, sometimes together, sometimes standing alone.

My sweet husband keeps saying things like, "Remember that next time Alex flips out."

And I do remember. This weekend alone my sweet baby worked through so many of his issues and emerged triumphant on Sunday evening. He did manage to get himself, his brother, and his grandparents thrown out of a childrens' museum, but really, that is nothing for my little guy.

He handled a busy weekend - a large Easter egg hunt filled with bustling children, competition, and, of course, candy. Attendance at a church he is unfamiliar with and where he spent time in both the sanctuary and the childrens' area.  Again, more bustling children, which is one of his triggers. He cheered his older brother on at the first Spring flag football game of the season. He spent two nights with his grandparents, without his usual bedtime rituals. He was an amazing Sensory and Trauma success! And yes, I am ignoring the Great Childrens' Museum Incident of 2014. His misdeed occurred during free play with other children, one of his biggest triggers. My sweet husband and I learned that lesson the hard way, and now so have the in-laws.

Late last week my persevering preschooler and I were reading a book that his bus aide gave him. (I know, right? What a sweet woman this aide is!) The main character in this book was a blanket, and the story was about how the little boy was never going to leave the blanket. Just like Mommy will never leave Alex. After we read the book my young son asked why he didn't have a blanket. Now before you get all upset that my sweet little baby doesn't have a blanket, let me put your mind at ease. He does have blankets. LOTS of blankets. But he really doesn't have a small one that can travel with him. He did, but he never used them, and now Lord only knows where they are. Still packed in a box, probably. But now, now he wants a blanket. "Like my brother's", he tells me.

His brother overheard this request. "He can have one of my Brown's blankets, because I have two." Wow. Just WOW.

The conversation ended and the boys went to Grandma's for the weekend. Frankly, I forgot about this simple request. But my smart seven year old didn't forget. This morning my oldest son showed up in the living room much earlier than needed, trailing his pillow, stuffed animals, and two Brown's blankets.  I watched as he handed one over to his little brother. "Are you sure?", I whispered to my brave son. "I have two. And he wants one."

There was a time when my oldest son would never had dreamed of sharing any of his precious belongings, especially not with his demanding and confusing little brother. There was  a time when his younger brother's antics would make him angry and frustrated. There was a time when he couldn't see the positive changes in his growing brother.

So we still have little to no eye contact. We still have stilted conversations and lots of melt downs. We still have refusal to learn, well, anything from me. We still have oh so many issues. But we also have more smiles from our youngest than blank stares. More joy. More participation in family. More understanding. And more brotherly love. My boys, they are right on track. They are getting it right. And I am in awe of them. I want to be like them when I grow up!

what adoption has taught me

Welcome to November! Halloween is over, pumpkin patches have been visited and pumpkins carved. Costumes have been relegated to the toy box and left over Halloween candy is being doled out two pieces at a time to my young boys. I have pulled out my  annual Christmas planner and updated it. I don't plan to decorate or think much about the holiday just yet but getting out the binder and refreshing the pages just somehow relaxes me. Knowing that I am prepared and ready to organize my family for the always busy holiday season assures that I don't miss a thing. There are so many family friendly activities and events that I don't want to miss, gift ideas I don't want to forget, special dinners I want to plan. Organization is the key to a peaceful holiday season, at least for me. But enough about my Christmas planner.

Before the tree goes up and wrapping paper comes out we have November. A month to be thankful. November is also National Adoption Month. A month for being thankful and a month to celebrate adoption. Now that I can get behind. What am I thankful for? You guessed it - adoption.

Throughout this month I will be sharing my thoughts on adoption, as well as re-posting older adoption essays. (After all, the holidays are right around the corner so time is tight...) To start with, though, I want to share with you what I have learned through our adoption journey.

I have learned that raising children is difficult, no matter how the little monsters  sweeties came into your family.

I have learned that when my Big Five Year Old tells me no one  likes him at school I immediately go to the adoption guilt. Does he feel "different"? Are the other children making fun of his smushed little nose? Has he been asked about why his eyes are slanted or why his little brother doesn't look like him? I know that the other children at school like to play with my son. I know that he has friends. I know that every day is not going to be a good day. And I know that most likely his day to day issues with school have nothing to do with adoption. But I can tell you that as an adoptive parent, I go to the well of adoption guilt every time. Every. Single. Time.

I have learned that love isn't always forged through breastfeeding and co-sleeping. Sometimes it blossoms among matchbox cars and silly songs about cats throwing up.

I have learned that every day is a gift. Now I know that biological parents feel this as well. And if they don't, they should. Because every day with our kids truly is a gift. But when you try so hard to start a family, go through miscarriages and hormone treatments and shots and painful and intrusive medical procedures, that child finally placed in your arms is a Gift with a capital G. I miss my clean house and my orderly life and quiet time with my sweet husband, and I would give my right arm for a good babysitter, yes. But give up the little every day moments with my two crazy kids? No way. Every day thankful, that is what I am.

I have learned that the general public is way more outgoing than I am. I would never consider asking a total stranger a question like "How much did your son cost?" or "Why didn't you just have your own kids?" But the world is full of people unlike me, and that is what makes it such an amazing place, right? And I have learned grace from each and every one of those stupid questions. Maybe my answers provide lessons for the busy bee who asked, but maybe their questions provide me a lesson on handling myself with grace and dignity.

I have learned that my children don't have to share my DNA to be a lot like me. My oldest son frequently cannot look past something he doesn't enjoy but is forced to participate in because someone else in the family enjoys it. He works himself up to the point that he cannot find even one thing he could be enjoying in the moment. I do this. Just ask my husband about the time I cried at the thought of going to the Brown's game on a super cold, super snowy day. My youngest son has my short temper. Did I teach them these behaviors? Were they born this way? Who knows. All I know is this; these aren't two children who are nothing like me. These are my sons, and they do share some of my traits.

I have learned that these are the children I was meant to parent. God placed these boys in my path for a reason. As I have said before, my children aren't Plan B. I cannot tell you how many times I have been told, "Now that you have adopted you will surely get pregnant."  Believe me, after bringing home a baby, getting pregnant was the last thing on my mind. Adopting was not some convoluted way to conceive. These boys were meant to be in my life. They need me. And I need them.

I have learned patience. Waiting for the right time to submit the paperwork. Waiting on documents. Waiting on a referral. Waiting on travel orders. Waiting on the van that broke down while bringing me my sweet Chinese son. Adoption has taught me patience. As has parenting, right? Who hasn't tapped their foot impatiently while mini me runs around the house looking for his other shoe or favorite stuffed baby animal?

I have learned that post adoption depression is a very real thing. It is energy sucking and works against bonding with your new little one. I have learned more about this than I care to know.

I have learned to ask for help. Prior to having kids I was relatively self sufficient. Now it seems as though I am always seeking advice. How to approach adoption questions in school. How to handle toddler behavior issues. How to bond with a new little one when the older one still needs my attention.

I have learned the importance of community. My son's China play group, as he calls it, has been a life saver. Sure, it is good for him to grow up surrounded by families that look like ours. But it has been an amazing experience for me as well. These other mothers, they get me. They face many of the same issues with their children, and they frequently offer a listening ear and thoughtful advice.

I have learned to trust God. To trust my inner voice. One and the same, I guess. I have learned that adoption is an amazing, difficult and fulfilling journey. And I have learned that I would do it all over again, of course. And I wouldn't change a thing.

What has your adoption journey taught you?

the kims from south korea are genius!

I tried out the Giant Eagle Market District grocery store. Gotta say, I love love love it! It is a combination of a traditional grocery/kitchen store, with a little Whole Foods  thrown in. I am sure this store has been open forever, or at least since we started working on bringing the tiny toddler home, but news of it's arrival in Upper Arlington had not yet pierced my bubble. Another casualty of the crazy busy job I walked away from - officing from home and traveling every week did not leave a lot of room for keeping up on what was happening in the world at large. Toss in burying my mother, two trips to Russia, finalizing an adoption, keeping up with my big four and a half year old, and bonding with a tiny toddler and it seems there was just no time to keep up on what my local Giant Eagle was up to. But oh, the time I have missed. I could have been shopping at this amazing store all this time. Sigh...

Not only did I find everything I needed and so many things I didn't know I needed but realized I could no longer live without, I found these:

The tiny toddler and I enjoyed this tasty (and healthy) snack in Russia, and then again at the South Korean airport. If you have never had them, TASTE THEM NOW.

They are hard to find because they are made fresh in a "popping machine" and so are not readily available. My little man loved to play with these as well as eat them while we waited out our time in our tiny Russian motel room. They are low calorie and healthy, so I didn't mind how much he ate. The only reason I even bought them in Russia was because my tiny toddler, who, for unknown reasons would be wound up tight while in the motel room and then appear sickly and totally exhausted in public, raised his head off the grocery cart handle where he had been resting it as he slept in the baby seat and grabbed the bag off of a passing shelf. Not wanting a total melt down of a toddler I barely knew in a crowded grocery store in a foreign county, I let him hold the bag and, ultimately, purchased the mysterious snack.

While in South Korea waiting for our flight to Japan we stopped to watch the Magic Pop being made. An older Korean man dressed all in white stood behind a huge metal contraption churning out different flavors of the snack cake, most of which I was not brave enough to try. I did get a strawberry one for my new son though, which he happily munched on while we waited for our boarding call.

Today at Giant Eagle the man behind the large metal machine was making original, strawberry, and cinnamon flavored Magic Pops. The oh so much better than rice cakes treat transported me right back to that little motel room in Vladivostok. Back to when it was just me and my new son, alone and together for every minute of the day. Back to when he became my shadow, forced to trail after me down the hall as I washed our clothes in the community washer or settled our weekly bill at the front desk. Back to when we would spend hours laying on the double bed, listening to music on the computer mixed with the rain outside the window. Back to when my tiny toddler would sit on the floor in the tiny motel room kitchen quietly taking the Magic Pop and the bread out of the plastic bags and playing with them. I don't normally let my kids play with food but endless hours in a motel room with a 24 month old will weaken your resolve, as well as force you to totally throw out the 5 second rule. Back to the first few weeks of mothering my youngest son. And anything that can instantly take me back to when my boys were babies is a good thing!