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!

Nighttime Surprise

Your room is silent and still, probably for the first time all day. The light with the old fashioned blue truck is lit on your night stand, lighting the quiet with a soft glow. I look down at you, sleeping backwards in your bed. Your head is at the foot of the bed, by the door. I smile. You are surrounded by your baby stuffed animals. Your little  brother's life size monkey is resting on your chest, nearly as long as you are. Your growing five year old body is so long, laying there in your bed.  Your large red angry bird is nestled between your arm and your ear while your baby hamster and baby hamster's mommy are tucked under your elbow. Two small angry birds, one yellow and one black, rest by your other ear and three Cleveland Brown's pillow pet dogs stand guard in a row by your side.

When I left you, still awake and bouncing in your bed, your animals were all sitting at the bottom of your bed, unaware that they would soon be used to sooth you into sleep. Your blankets were still folded by your pillow; now they are all layered on top of you, first your orange Cleveland Brown's blanket, then the blue cloud covered blanket you got when you had your oral surgery. On top of that is another Cleveland Brown's blanket and then the blue crocheted baby blanket that a friend of mine gave to you when you came home. On top of that is a colorful knitted blanket and then your bedspread, decorated with the same trucks as on your lamp. I touch your head, smooth your hair back. You are covered in sweat from all the blankets- I uncover you a little and you roll over, open your eyes, and a wide smile breaks out on on your face. You are still asleep, little one, but you instinctively reach out your arms to me for one more night night hug. I kiss your cheek and you roll back over, hug your giant red angry bird, and drift back into sleep.

I love our little nightly ritual. I love walking in to your room on my way to bed myself, and seeing what you have done with your stuffed baby animals this time. Every night the arrangement is a little different, the cast of characters dependent on who happens to be available and in your room at bedtime. I love your creativity and weirdness, little one. And I love you.

one of the more tame nightly creations!

I am nearly 42. it's time I grew up.

Tomorrow is my 42nd birthday. Wow. And, might I add, OH MY GOD. How the heck did I get here? Certainly not a straight and unbroken road. No, I took a cracked path, filled with treacherous loose stones and occasional tall grass hiding land mines. But my path was also covered with beautiful flowers and lots of sunshine. And when the rains did pour down I always had an umbrella handy in the form of dear friends and, eventually, my amazing husband. And I know that my journey is not over yet. I have to admit it, I have, possibly, reached middle age. Hold on while I wipe away a tear...

I can only remember a few birthdays in the past that have bothered me. My 30th was not nearly as traumatic as society led me to believe it would be, most likely because I had just started dating my future husband and was totally enveloped in that hazy first few months of love phase. 35 arrived as we were trying to conceive a child, and so it sort of came and went. And to be honest, I can't really remember my 40th birthday. Not in a drank and danced all night kind of way, sadly. But here I am, turning 42.

A year ago at this time we had just returned from Russia, where we had met, fallen in love with, and then had to leave behind our new son. All I remember about last year's birthday is, well, nothing. My mind and heart were too full of  that tiny 22 month old with the brown eyes and monkey walk.

This has been one of the best years of my life, and one of the most challenging. My mother passed away 2 days before our adoption agency called us with the possible referral of our little man. The next month we traveled to meet him, and then we came home and raced through the paperwork and before I knew it I was back on a plane, leaving my older son again, this time for a month. The memories and feelings of that month away from him will always be with me. Every moment away from my boy has been burned into my brain; it was truly the longest month of my life. While I celebrated the addition to our family and began the process of bonding with another son I mourned the moments lost with the boy I left at home.

And then my tiny toddler and I arrived back in the states. Both of us tired, wrinkled and basically a mess, me walking slowly from wearing the baby for three straight days. But we were home, and I was sitting on a bench, still wearing the baby but now also wearing the 4 year old who had climbed into my lap and thrown his arms around my neck so tight I could barely breath. And it was heaven.

Yes, this past year has been a challenging one. Folding the tiny toddler into our family has not been easy, and came with it's share of both laughter and tears. I may just have cried more this past year than the rest of my life combined.

Now we are settling in, and I am catching my breath. We still have our tiny toddler moments but the good outshines the bad. And, true to life, now that we have righted the ship, so to speak, my husband has lost his job. We thought it was coming, we planned for it, as best we could. And now all of our plans for summer fun and home redecoration and backyard play sets are on hold. But it's all good. I am used to life being on hold. Anyone who has lived through fertility treatments and international adoption knows how to wait.

I have really been focused on the waiting these past few days. I have been angry at the situation. I have been feeling like maybe it was time for someone to take care of me, for a change. I have been working since I was 15 years old. I put myself through college. When I received my lay off notice a few jobs back I went out and found a new job before the current one even ended. The only time I have not worked is when I quit my job for my youngest son, because he needed me more than all those assisted living communities did. But we all know that staying home with him was the hardest job I have ever had! Now I am back at work at a job that allows me the flexibility to care for my family the way I know they need. I do what every mother does. I work outside the home, and I work inside the home. Our work  is never done, is it? So I was angry. But not anymore.

I have no reason to be angry. We may be waiting for monetary gain but we have so much right now. Our little United Nations wing upstairs, with a tiny brown haired toddler sleeping in his crib, his bum up in the air and a preschooler with jet black hair sleeping backwards in his big boy bed, surrounded by no less than 10 stuffed baby animals and one large Cleveland Browns pillow pet. Our front porch where my husband and I often sit at night, a baby monitor and two beer bottles on the table between our chairs. Our back yard where we play endless games of football with the big five year old while the tiny toddler wanders around trying to tackle us and where we sit by the fire late into the night. The kitchen with the wall paper I picked out where I love to cook for my family. The bedroom furniture my husband picked out all by himself and was so excited when he came home to tell me he had found exactly what we were looking for. I didn't believe him, of course, but he was right. Nine years later and I still smile when I walk into the bedroom. I have everything I need.

This is my 42nd year. This is the year my family will learn to live without me a little, so I can find more ways to be true to myself. Maybe this is the year I finally take those golf lessons, or move my yoga from the living room to an actual public studio. Maybe this is the year I dust off my french horn and go back to the community band or maybe this is the year I walk a thousand miles. This is the year I will sit on the sidelines and watch my big five year old play flag football. This is the year I will carry my tiny toddler into the shallow end of the pool for mommy and baby swim class. This is the year I will begin to date my husband again. This is the year I will no longer be angry at all the waiting. After all, I am nearly 42. It's time I grew up. This is going to be a great year!

police cars, whores, the zoo, and the cleveland browns

"Mommy, who do you need to call about securing me a police car?" What? Did he just say securing a police car? For a brief moment I was totally stumped. Who does he think I am? What events have occurred  in his young life up to now that would make him think his mother is so super amazing that I can secure a police car for him? What is he planning? Is he going to knock over the local candy shop? Hop himself up on leftover Valentine's Day candy and take his little brother on a pixie stick induced crime spree?  I remained stumped for about 10 minutes, until I finally realized that he was talking about those little motorized cars he sees other kids, from families with clearly more organized garages and storage space and lots more expendable cash, driving up and down the street. Thank God. We need the bail money for our beer of the month club.


"Mommy, I need scissors, tape, and, uh, maybe a band aid. Oh, and don't come up here for a few minutes!" When I did, in fact, RACE up the stairs I saw no blood. I did see the boys bathroom totally torn apart, with all the soap and toilet paper pulled out from under the sink and a tiny toddler shoved in the cabinet instead. I am not sure, but I think the older one may have been planning to either:

A. cut his little brother's hair. Which, actually, does need done.
B. tape the cabinet door closed with his little brother inside. Which would have produced a really cool Hulk-like effect as the amazingly strong tiny toddler fought his way out, pushing through the scotch tape.

I never did find out why he needed the band aid.



Conversation overheard between one of Mommy's friends and  my now Big Five Year Old the other day while he was playing a football game on his DS.

Friend: "What teams are playing?"
Son:      "I am the green Bay Packers and I am playing the Cleveland Browns."
Friend: "You're not the Browns?" (I am sure she was amazed that we let this kid play teams other than the Browns, especially out in public...)
Son:      "Sometimes I am the Browns, but sometimes I just want to win."

This needs no further explanation, but you can imagine how well this went over with my husband.


"Mommy, can we get a whores?" What? Did he just ask me for a whore? Actually, I think he asked me for more than one whore. So he is growing up way too fast and he has bad grammar. As I am considering grabbing the car keys and running out to the local pharmacy to pick up a safe sex brochure or maybe one titled "How to Talk Your Big Five Year Old Out of Bringing Home a Whore" the Tiny Toddler began dancing around the kitchen yelling "Whores! Whores!". oh. my. god. crap crap crap crap crap. Now the little one wants one too. I panicked. I should get dressed, I thought, because social services is going to be pulling into my driveway any minute now and I refuse to be on the news, being dragged out my house, wearing pajamas with ice skating penguins on them.

"Maybe we can just go to the zoo and ride a whores?" What the hell kind of zoo is this kid talking about? And no kid of mine is riding, well, you know...

The Tiny Toddler then started neighing as he danced around the kitchen and it dawned on my that my innocent child may, just may be talking about riding a horse.

I have got to start drinking more coffee.

taking time for tea, part II

Every parent wants to pass cherished family traditions down to their children. I am no different. When they are much, much older and settle in to a permanent loving relationship I want them to place a new "family" tree topper on the top of their Christmas tree, just as their father and I did our first Christmas together. We are still using that angel and every time I see her glowing up there on top of the tree I remember my husband telling me that we needed a new tree topper, one that held only memories of "us".

I love the fact that my four year old goes to the Cleveland Browns games with his dad and that we all go to the Indians games. We watch the games on television and both my husband and son have their favorite players they watch. Being football fans is a tradition we will share for years.

We have holiday traditions such as our elf , Fritz, who visits us every Christmas season. We celebrate Chinese New Year and Autumn Moon Festival. We have many family traditions, big and small. And one of my favorites is our tradition of taking time for iced tea. It may seem insignificant but it is huge in my book.

When I first started to date Brad we found ourselves doing all those date night things every couple does. We took in movies, plays, and even a monster truck show. We went to concerts and out to dinner. We window shopped on  Main Street, USA. And we took our time. We got to know each other over glasses of iced tea.

This "taking the time for tea" tradition did not stop when we got married. It did not stop when we added the kids to our happy union. And this tradition is already being passed on to our children.

Last Saturday Matthew, my four year old, and I hit up the weekly farmer's market in our town. This is also a tradition that just Matthew and I share, started a few years back when he was still a little one in a stroller. Now that he is older he still looks forward to this weekly visit. We walk up and down the streets, taking in the colorful fruits and veggies at each stand. We discuss our planned purchases and what we should bring home to Daddy and then we make our selections. Matthew helps me select the very best looking corn or strawberries, he talks to the farmer's, hands over the money, checks out the tractors and wagons. Sometimes he even carries the bag, until it gets too heavy and he hands it back to me. Sometimes we see people we know from church or daycare, and he is always so happy to stop and chat with a friend of mommy's. I love these weekly excursions and miss them when our schedule can't accommodate them. This past week we had to run an errand after visiting the market and so in between we stopped for iced tea.

We sat side by side in the booth, both of us drinking iced tea, cooling off from the very sunny, very hot walk through the farmer's market. We talked about our fruit and veggie purchases and all of the sights at the market. We talked about how pre-school is going and about Mommy's new job. We talked about how things were going with Alex's transition into our family and about Matthew's plans to see a Cleveland Indian's game with Daddy the next day. We talked about the dog we plan to get next Spring. We talked about his friends and his China play group. We talked about his birthday. (This is a favorite topic of my son's. Even though his birthday is seven months away and there are numerous holidays to celebrate before his birthday he still wants to discuss his birthday party, in detail, every chance he gets.) We talked. And drank our iced tea.

I want my sons to understand the importance of being still. I want them to be able to slow down, to stop running from one activity to another and just "be" with someone. I want them to enjoy the little moments in between the big moments. I want them to always be able to stop and take the time for tea.

Prior to traveling to Russia to bring our youngest son into our family I was given a very special book as a gift. "The Three Questions", based on a story by Leo Tolstoy, is a beautiful story about the importance of living in the moment. The basic theme of the book is that the most important moment is the one you are in right now, the most important person is the one you are with, right now, and the most important thing you could do is whatever you can do for the person you are with, right now. This is easier said than done. There is no room in this "taking time for tea" moments for taking cell calls or checking email. There is just time for "being".

Hopefully when my kids are older they will continue to tell me what's on their mind. Hopefully they will always have the time to take for tea with Mom. Hopefully they will have learned, at the bent elbow of their iced tea drinking parents, the importance of celebrating those little moments, every day.

budha's hands

Matthew and I said a sleepy goodbye to Daddy this morning as he headed up to Cleveland for the football game. After too many rounds of Uno to count we finally got dressed and left the house. Our first stop; Whole Foods Market. I love it when we have lots of time to wander around- I think that may be one of my favorite stores. Matthew had a great time choosing his bananas and watermelon slices and he learned the joys of tasting the treats in those see through globes spread throughout the store. He tasted apple and pineapple and three different kinds of cheese, and after each bite I handed him he politely said "thank you very much" to me in Chinese. Today was a good Chinese language day- he used his new words and phrases all day, something I can usually not get him to do.

We found a new fruit- "budha's hands". Have not tasted it yet, but I think it is some sort of citrus.

isn't it amazing looking? You can't find that at Giant Eagle... Our quest to try new foods and to make them all healthy is off to a great start this week.

We shared lunch at the market and then headed to the park, where my little guy had more fun tossing leaves in the air than playing on the slides and ladders. And I got a great walk in.  Now he is asleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed, surrounded by toy catalogues and his stuffed baby animals. It has been a great day so far. There was one moment in the wine aisle when we encountered a family dressed entirely in Steelers clothes. I held my breath as Matthew pointed at them and loudly stated that "we don't like the Steelers." The young boy sporting the Steelers shirt replied "We don't like the Browns!" And both of us mom's quickly steered our carts in opposite directions.

my little Brown's fan