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!

We Have to Lead

When my oldest son was a toddler we ended each fun filled day with a prayer. He would stand in his crib, tiny hands clasped together, and repeat after me.

"God bless Daddy".... "Daaadddy!"  "God bless Mommy"... "Mommmmy!"  "God bless your teachers at school"... "Teachers!"..... and so on. We moved from blessing our family and friends to praying for more specific reasons as our young son grew. It was nice, really, to end each day with a thank you and a prayer.

And then we brought our new son into our lives, and we ended each day with a glass of wine. And, frequently, a few tears. And don't get me wrong, there were plenty of prayers. But our family prayer time fell off the radar screen as we struggled with every.little.thing. with our new son.

Fast forward to this summer, the summer of the "gimmies". Even though our oldest son attends a Christian school and regularly attends church, he is still, after all, a six year old. And six year olds have an inward focus and an ability to compare themselves to others. Never mind that the "others" they are comparing themselves to might be characters on TV, with toys and fun unobtainable to most families. Never mind that my son wants for nothing. He still wants for everything, know what I mean?

It was time to bring the focus, all of our focus, back to others. Away from ourselves. I was guilty of it also. I have spent the past two years looking inward as well. Over these past few years I have friends who have suffered marriage loss, death, and ill parents. I have friends who have lost children, either through pregnancy loss or an  interrupted adoption. I have friends who have had illnesses and surgeries, job losses, career confusion. I have immediate family members who did not receive my best. And how can I expect any more from my young son than I am willing to give myself? Clearly, a change was needed.

A few days ago we all gathered on our bed- both boys, my husband and myself. We turned off the TV, put away the phones, walked away from the toys and spent some quiet time upstairs, hanging out and playing Uno. After our games were done but right before we shuffled the youngest off to bed, I sent my super six year old out into the hallway to check the new "prayer board" I had hung on the wall just outside our bedroom door. He stood in the hallway and read off the prayers tacked to the board.

New school year
All of our teachers- first grade, preschool, daycare, china school
Alex's progress in therapy

Three prayers. We sat together on the bed and prayed, as a family, the prayers listed on our board. The persevering preschooler didn't make it through them all and wandered off, but he was there at the beginning, and it was a start. A move in the right direction. If we don't lead them, if we don't step out of our comfort zone as parents, they will not just magically "get it" one day.

The next day my super six year old asked me for a piece of paper and a thumb tack. When I asked why his answer shocked me. "Remember that kid at daycare who is always standing by the door, crying for his mommy? I want to add him to our prayer board."  He took the paper, asked me how to spell the boy's name and carefully printed it out. he stretched up to the board and pushed the pin into the paper, securing his prayer in place.

"When did you think of adding him to our board?", I asked. "Yesterday. I saw him hugging the door like he does and thought that we should pray for him. You know, he isn't like me. He doesn't think like me. I thought he would feel better if we prayed for him."

We have to lead. It does not come easy for me, these open displays of faith. But we have to lead, because they are watching.

Planning & Praise- the successful family meeting

Kids need opportunities to learn how to be a part of a team. They need to learn how to bring up issues and how to solve problems. They need to learn how to sit quietly and let others speak. They need to learn how to listen. And they need to internalize that family is a safe place where they have a voice.

My boys need to learn how to appreciate each other's differences and how to manage their issues with each other. And I need to learn how to manage my issues with them. That's right, I have issues.

• Our house is too loud, much of the time.
• I didn't play with the toys, I am not putting them away.
• The tiny toddler makes this unworldly screaming noise when he is frustrated. Or when he doesn't get his way. Or when he is tired. This must stop.
• While I enjoy meal planning I would like input from the men in my life who show up at the dinner table every night.
• The cars are too messy. (OK, that is my sweet husband's issue, but I totally agree.)

I am sure I have MANY more issues. But these issues, along with a desire to further cement the idea of "family" in my tiny toddlers heart and mind, fueled me to start weekly Family Meetings.

After announcing to my husband that we were going to start meeting every Sunday evening as a family and laying out the rules, we held our first meeting. What rules, you say?

• Meeting to be held in dining room, away from toys and TV.
• No toys at meeting.
• Everyone gets a chance to talk.
• Everyone must say at least one good thing about their past week and one good thing about someone else at the table.
• All decisions are final. No whining!

After dinner we all moved into the dining room. I explained the meeting process to the boys and asked for their good thoughts. To my surprise, it was the tiny toddler who spoke up first. He was sitting on the table, meowing like a cat, as he often does. He used his outside voice, as he often does, and yelled, "Daddy took me to grocery store!" Earlier that day my sweet husband had taken him grocery shopping, something I don't do very often because, frankly, it is just. too. hard. But obviously, shopping, alone with Daddy, left a great impression. What a great start!

We reviewed the schedule for the week, including all of my super six year old's school activities and lunch menu. Whether to pack or buy is a huge topic of conversation in our home. We ended the meeting quickly after we opened it due to the super six year old's lack of interest and the tiny toddler crawling around the dining room table meowing. But I considered it a success.

I posted a Family Meeting Agenda on the fridge and all topics that came up throughout the week that needed further discussion went onto the agenda. Good thoughts about my boys, all three of them, also went on the agenda, under "Good News". This way we don't forget the nice things we want to say about each other by the time Sunday evening rolls around.

In the middle of the week the super six year old asked to go to COSI. Actually, he asked to either go to COSI or Mexico. Not sure why Mexico, but COSI? Yeah, we can do that. Put it on the agenda.

Yet another bout of young boys running around the downstairs screaming. And another. This must stop! Put it on the agenda.

My sweet husband pushed to near craziness over the mess of toys and snacks in the backseat of the car. Put it on the agenda!

Once it is on the agenda we don't need to keep talking about it. This is a tip I learned early on in my career, when I first became addicted to the Franklin Planner system. Once it is written down, once it is planned for, there is no need for further discussion. Whew.

Our second family meeting followed the same patterns as the first. The tiny toddler continued to climb onto the table. Everyone continued to speak over each other. But we accomplished our goals.

We have a potential date for a trip to COSI. We have a plan for creating "centers" so that the running around screaming game will be timed and will only be allowed for 30 minutes. After that, they will move to a new center somewhere else in the house.

We have reviewed the toy pick up rules. Again.

We have reviewed the fact that cleaning out the car has been on the weekly cleaning schedule for months. We have solidified that no one except me reads the cleaning schedules posted on the side of the refrigerator. Good times.

But we have done so much more. Our boys are hearing the discussions between my sweet husband and I regarding day care pick ups, school drop offs, who is driving who to which activity. They are seeing that to keep a family running takes planning. They are learning that I will listen when they tell me what they want for dinner, as long as they don't ask for candy and Popsicles. They are learning how good it feels when someone notices their good actions. They are learning to speak up, to solve problems, to understand the value of planning. They are finding their voice. And they are solidifying their place in our family.

So two family meetings later I am happy with our baby steps. I am sure that next week the tiny toddler will still be climbing onto the dining room table. I am sure that the super six year old will complain that he would rather be watching TV. I am sure that "picking up your toys" will always be on the agenda. But I am also sure that the tiny toddler will continue to hear praise on his amazing successes. I am sure that the super six year old will continue to love planning the after meeting family activity. So far we have raced remote controlled cars, as a family, all four of us running around the living room with our remotes. We have finger painted, as a family. Who knows what we will do next week. My young man takes the planning of these activities very seriously.

Every day we have set backs. Every day I dodge shoes thrown at me from the back seat or clean up dinner from under the kitchen table. So we have our set backs. And we have our successes. And now my boys have a way for their voices to be heard. Behavior experts say that family meetings can solve a myriad of behavior problems. We shall see. But at the very least these meetings allow for planning and praise, which is really what it takes to run a successful family, right?

How was your day?

Every day I ask the same questions. "How was your day, Mishka?" You lean back on me, warming my body with your fleece footie pajamas. Tonight you are playing with a bright orange lock you found on the floor of your older brother's room, where we are hanging out, in his big cozy recliner chair. Your brother was given this little lock by a friend at school. These kindergartners have big hearts and they are always sharing their treasures. I have no idea what items of his, or of mine, my super six year old has given away to his classmates. You concentrate on the lock, your tongue sticking out, trying to find the right combination that will make it magically lock into place. "Did you have a good day?" I try again. You ignore me and work the lock between your fingers. I place my hand on your head and turn it towards me, trying to to get a look at your beautiful brown eyes. You pull away, eyes locked on your hands. "Did you eat soup for lunch today, Mishka?" I know you did. We check the lunch menu every morning, you and I, and so I know that beef soup and peaches were on your plate today. Silence. Your tongue pops in and out of your mouth as you finally give up on the lock and toss it aside. I seize my chance before your mind is otherwise occupied. "Did you have a good time with Daddy tonight?" You spent the evening at church, hanging out with Daddy while your brother participated in the mid week childrens' program. Again, silence.

"OK, you don't want to talk about your day? Let's talk about something else. What would you like to talk about?" You think about this for a minute before answering with, "The bug on your bear." Ah. I retell you the story of a few weeks back when all four of us were in the master bedroom and your older brother and I noticed a scary looking bug sitting on my teddy bear. I remind you of how Daddy took a tissue and captured the bug, showing us that it wasn't a scary beetle like we thought but instead a harmless moth. "Bugs go in tummy?", you ask. I explain that bugs don't go into our tummies. You look scared. I assure you that bugs can be friendly. "Ladybugs scary?", you ask. "No, honey, ladybugs are sweet and come to visit every so often before flying away." I sing you the "Ladybug Ladybug" song. Only one verse, before you make that noise that only you can make, the noise that means "stop , something bad is coming". I stop.

I wonder how your day went. Your teacher told Daddy that you had a good day, considering your preschool program was closed today. You did well most of the day, only having a hard time at the end of the day. But I wonder what you are thinking. Most of the time you refuse to talk about your days, preferring instead to rehash an old story. You love to talk about the past, my Mishka.

This morning in the car you were singing to yourself the names of two of your friends from daycare. Over and over you sang these two names. "Are those your friends?" "Yes momma", you tell me. "What are the names of your friends from preschool?" "No friends at preschool, momma." I worry. I know that you have only been going to this preschool for about a month and I know that maybe some of the other children in your class aren't able to play like you do. But I also know that you don't like this new school. Are you learning to make friends? Will you be able to maintain friendships as you get older? Will you let others into your quiet world?

You climb off of me and start spinning around in a circle on your brother's rug. I sense you are on overload from our short conversation and I pick you up and carry you into your room, standing you up in your crib. I see you have managed to steal your brother's baby stuffed hamster and I watch as you tuck it gently under your blanket. You then take it out, bring it to your face and scream at it, then point your finger at it, saying "NO!" loudly. You then hug it and tuck it back in, next to you. Is this what love looks like to you, little guy?

Maybe tomorrow you will tell me how you day went. Maybe tomorrow you will allow me, for just a few moments, to live in the present with you. But if not, we can talk about whatever you want, little Mishka. Whatever you want.

183, gone in the blink of an eye

183 of my Saturdays with the tiny toddler are already gone. I have approximately 757 more Saturdays to go with him before he leaves the house for college, or work, or whatever path his life takes. And it's even worse for the big five year old- 313 of my Saturdays with him have been spent already. For good or bad, they are gone. Whether I was cleaning the house, working, or playing with my boys, it doesn't matter. Those Saturdays are only memories now.

Wondering where I am getting this emotional math problem? Ever since I read an article about how we only have 940 Saturdays between birth and leaving the nest to spend with our kids, it has been on my mind. You can read my previous thoughts about this here.   940 Saturdays. And as our kids get older we will have to compete with all the other noise in their lives- sports, band, friends, girlfriends, (oh my god!), school activities. Parents of older kids aren't kidding when they tell us to "enjoy them now." They know. It will be over before we can blink.

I already see it in my oldest son. He will turn 6 years old next month. He is starting to ask more thoughtful questions and read chapter books. He is bringing home books from the school library about race cars, football, and airplanes. He has relationships I know very little about with friends and teachers at school- he is out and about during the day, riding buses, keeping track of his milk money, doing his own thing. He is growing tall and strong. He still wants to spend every minute with his mommy, though, which is just fine with me. For now, he is still mine. The world doesn't get to have all of him just yet.

So I have spent about 79 Saturdays with the tiny toddler so far. Some of them have been wonderful days, full of laughter and joy. Many of them have been very difficult days, full of tears and tantrums. But I will miss them when they are gone. Last month my youngest son spent all day with his daddy at a football game and even though I welcomed the peace and quiet and calm that I found by being alone in our home for hours, I still missed him. Perhaps I have grown accustomed to the new normal that is our lives. Perhaps I now relish the noise, the laughter, the chasing and jumping boys. And every day, or most days, at least, they grow up a little more and life gets a little easier. A high school friend of mine who remembers taking her four year old to swim lessons while dragging her two year old twins along was telling me the other day that her now tween children can now be left alone in the pool while she works out in another part of the gym. "You day will come", she told me. And I know it will. All too soon my day will come. And a part of me is looking forward to that, I must admit. A part of me is looking forward to spending time with my boys without the diaper bag, snacks, toys, and tantrums. Although with the loss of the preschool "stuff" I carry everywhere comes increased independence for my boys, with more Saturdays taken up with their schedules than with me.

183 Saturdays done. 313 of my older son's, gone.

Today I made the decision to not take the quiet time for myself that I so enjoy while the big five year old is in China school. Today I made the decision to not lose one of the precious Saturdays and to instead bring the tiny toddler along. We only have 940 Saturdays, yes, but no one said they couldn't be spent in total chaos!

We played in the play room, making patterns out of soft blocks and playing peek a book behind the tree house. We sat at a table and shared a drink together. We watched music videos on my phone and did a little dancing. We spent the entire morning together, yet still somewhat apart. He's independent, my little man. He wanted to roll down the hallways of the church and play with the water fountain. He wanted to sit outside the door while the other little ones played in the play room. He wanted to watch his music on my phone while sitting two chairs away from me. Today is the 79th Saturday I have spent with my tiny toddler, and still much of it was spent watching him. Not really fully engaged, he still often prefers to do his own thing. He wants me near, he needs to know I am available, ready to offer a hug or a helping hand when he climbs to the top of the block tower he built and is dangerously close to falling. It is normal, I suppose, for a three old to begin to assert his independence in this way. It is harder for me, I think, because he has always been this way. And because I just don't know- is it normal growing up or is it attachment? Does he feel grounded and loved or does he still feel uncertain?

Stopping his play every twenty minutes or so so that we could find a quiet corner to "regroup" wasn't all that effective today. He still was unable to self regulate and his unseen stress eventually led him to bite me. We aren't there yet. Some days I think we are close, and other days I feel we are oh so very far from the finish line. His usual regulating techiques, all learned through trial and error, did not work today. But still, we spent this Saturday together.

Now my husband is spending his Saturday with the boys. I can hear them downstairs, laughing, running, cleaning up their toys and getting ready to head out to buy a guinea pig. That's a story for another day. We have such little time. I see it when we head back to Cleveland. I see it in the aging faces of nieces and nephews and in my mother-in-law's eyes as she looks at my husband. Such little time.

My husband wants to go out to dinner tonight, something that does not normally go so well. One boy at a time, OK. Both boys together somehow throws the tiny toddler out of whack and winds him up past the point of no return. The fact that he rarely eats prevents us from making sure he is truly hungry when we hit the restaurant, a trick that works with the big five year old. Today though, I am willing to risk it. let the other diners wonder why we don't have our little man under control. Let them think he is spoiled. Let them stare and wonder about our parenting skills. Heck, if I am really lucky, let them dodge a matchbox car or a flying french fry. I know the truth. I know that my tiny toddler is still finding his way. I know that he has special needs that others cannot see. I know we will be "that family". But I also know that my Saturdays are dwindling, and so I will take every one I can get!

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!

Tell Me, Which is Better?

On Saturday my three year old son squealed with delight as he opened presents from Santa.  If he still lived in the orphanage there would be no presents, no holiday, no squeals of delight.

On Sunday my three year old visited his Aunt Debbie and his cousin Katie and played with their dogs. If he still lived in the orphanage he would have played with mismatched or broken toys, if he played at all.

On Monday my three year old went with his Grandparents to a party at his cousin's home, where he played with his little baby cousin and ate hot dogs. If he still lived in the orphanage he would have eaten thin potato puree that was too hot to swallow but that he would have gulped down anyways, to fill his always empty stomach.

On Tuesday my three year old visited his Aunt Becky's home where he played with his cousins and watched deer in their snowy backyard. If he still lived in the orphanage he wouldn't have been able to see the world outside from the small high windows that were smudged with mud and snow.

On Tuesday night my three year old rode home in the backseat of his family's car while watching a movie about Curious George, his favorite show, with his older brother. If he still lived in the orphanage he wouldn't have seen any educational shows on television, or had a brother to share them with.

On Wednesday my three year old played in the snow, all bundled up in his snow suit. If he still lived in the orphanage he might never be warm enough, and wouldn't have been able to play in the snow, as there was no yard, only a small concrete parking lot surrounded by gray buildings.

all smiles as he plays in the snow with his older brother

Tomorrow my three year old will go back to preschool, where he will learn his letters and colors. If he still lived in the orphanage tomorrow would be the same as every other day. No education. No love dedicated just to him. No choice in meals or toys. No clothes of his own, no family of his own, no mama of his own.

Tell me, which is better?

So many people tell my husband and I that our children are "lucky". "They are soooo lucky that you adopted them." "They are lucky lucky lucky!" And we have always said that we are the lucky ones, not them. I am lucky when I hear my boys laughing with each other. I am lucky when my three year old says "I wanna kiss you mama" and kisses my leg. I am lucky when one of my boys catches my eye and smiles at me. I am lucky lucky lucky. But now, with Russia on the verge of possibly banning adoption to Americans, I feel as though my little three year old is lucky too. Less than 1,000 children came home to their forever families from Russia in 2011, but he was one of them. He was one of the lucky ones.


There are an estimated 700,000 children living in Russian orphanages.  A number of those children have already been placed with waiting American families, and those adoptions are threatened to be disrupted, or, worse yet, not occur at all, if the ban on Americans adopting Russian orphans goes through. These American women and men are not "parents to be". They are already parents. They have visited their Russian child. They have held him, fed her, played. They have bonded. They have promised to return. And now their lives, and the lives of these innocent children, may never be the same. Contact President Obama. Sign a petition, like this one.
Pray.

I have done all of the above. And I will do one more thing. I will be ever joyful that my little boy made it out of a country that didn't want him, but who didn't want anyone else to have him either.

Mommy Might Have Been Lying About a Few Things...

I know that you are suspicious, my Big Five Year Old. Why else would you sneak back down the stairs after being tucked into your bed, or slyly try to catch a glimpse of the photo I just took of you with my cell phone? You are getting so big, and with that comes the realization that maybe, just maybe, Mommy has been lying about a few things. Well, it's true.

• Yes, that was a piece of chocolate I just put in my mouth. You were right, that was a candy wrapper you heard me opening. No, you can't have any. I am a grown up and if I want to eat a piece of candy for breakfast with my now cold cup of coffee because of all of the running around getting you and your brother ready to face your days, then I will.

• Yes, I did just take a picture of you. You were doing something cute, and I wanted to capture the moment so that I can look back on it the next time I am ready to pull out my hair because you can't find your shoe, stuffed dog, hat, library book.... It is called an insurance policy.

• No, I am not always working when I lock myself in the office. Usually I am but sometimes I just tell you that in order to gain a few minutes of "me" time where you and your brother are not wearing me like a coat.

• Yes, Daddy and I stay up late and watch TV. The party starts the minute your bedroom door is closed. Sometimes I even hold his hand. I know these are two things very close to your heart- watching TV and holding Mommy's hand, but sometimes I do them with Daddy as well.

• Yes, I lie to you about not having any  money in my purse to buy Apple Dippers from McDonald's. But we can't buy apples every day when we have them at home!

• Yes, sweetie, I also occasionally lie to you about the TV, car radio, and  my iPhone being "asleep".

• Yes, the toys at the store are actually for sale. Not every family goes to "visit" them like we sometimes do. Some families, with more walking around money and far better storage, actually buy these toys and bring them home. I suggest you make friends with those families.

There are a few secrets I am not yet ready to give up. Yes, that was Santa I was on the phone with the other day. Yes, your baby stuffed hamster does nibble at your leftover food when you leave for school. And yes, you will spontaneously combust if you wear yesterday's underwear. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!

Well I Never!

It's time for another installment of "Things I never thought I would say or even know."

• "You need 60 points to earn your guinea pig."
• A good baby sitter is worth her weight in gold. or pizza. or cough medicine. Whatever she wants, give it to her.
• Tiny little bugs can live inside the Diaper Genie.
• "Do not hit your brother with your snorkel in the bathtub!"
• A kid will whine every day for a banana when you are out of bananas. When bananas are plentiful, said kid will act as though they are made of poison.
• The red dye I am trying to avoid giving my boys because studies show it adds to poor focus and behavior issues is in everything.
• "Why did your teacher find you sitting on top of the potty at school?"
• Kahlua in a sippy cup is just as good.
• No matter how late we are for school, there is always time for coffee.
• "Stop chasing the cat with your light saber!"
• "Stop chasing your brother with you light saber!"
• "Get that light saber out of my face!"
• "Mommy is NOT a jungle gym!"
• It is impossible to stop young boys from jumping on the sofa, jumping off the sofa, or jumping across the room from one sofa to another. Impossible. Stop trying. Just always stay dressed with your car keys handy so you can make that quick dash to the ER when they eventually misjudge the jump and bounce off the coffee table.
• "Go back upstairs and put underwear on!"
• "I don't care if that pair of underwear is your cousin's! They are clean and they showed up in your suitcase and they are yours now."
• "Honey, people don't like it when you look under the bathroom stall like that."
• "OK, let's stop being a cat and crawling on the floor now. It's time to walk like a big boy!"
• "Stop meowing!"
• "Honey, that's something you should only do in the privacy of your crib."
• Boys will consider a room "clean" if they only see 5 toys, 2 magazines, and 3 cups on the floor.
• "Wait, I'll get you a tissue."
• "What happened to what was on your finger?"
• "You put it where????"
•  I am the only person in the house who knows how to close a drawer or cupboard.
• If you are out with young kids at a place with clean bathrooms they will never have to go. If you are out where there are only outdoor potties, they will always have to go. Twice.
• There is never toilet paper in port a potties.
• The kid wearing the football helmet and careening through the living room at top speed will bounce off the kid not wearing a football helmet no fewer than 5 times between the time you say, "Stop running around the living room- no football in the house!" and time he takes the helmet off.
• It hurts to get rammed by a small child wearing a football helmet.
• Small boys and bruises go hand in hand.
• If one of us needs a band aid, we all need a band aid.
• A hug can fix a multitude of problems.
• Every day is a new day to screw up  enjoy.

don't you hate it when someone in another stall in the bathroom laughs at you?

My big five year old has a Cleveland Browns pillow pet named Scruffy that goes absolutely everywhere with us. This stuffed animal sees the speech therapist every week. It rides in the car with us every day to school and has eaten out with us at restaurants all over town. (And by "eaten" I mean "eaten"- the dog usually gets his own plate and silverware.) We tear the house apart at bedtime looking for the last place Scruffy was left. Because Scruffy travels everywhere with us I am constantly reminding my big five year old, "Don't forget your dog!"

I am used to this, because when he was a toddler this same boy attached himself to his sleep sheep, brilliantly named "Sheepy". This sheep had Velcro tabs to attach to the crib and a hard plastic insert where the "brains" played soothing sounds. Shortly after the sheep started traveling with us the "brains" were removed in an unfortunate middle of the night hotel room bed sharing incident. Sheepy quickly became much more comfortable to roll over onto...

After Sheepy we had "Froggy" join us for a while. The day we left Froggy in the library and didn't realize it until after we had walked 3 blocks back to the car, buckled in the tiny toddler, and stashed the stroller in the trunk was a sad day...

So now we have Scruffy. He is much larger than the other animals who have joined our family over the years. He knocks over drinks and takes up valuable real estate in the grocery cart. But he goes everywhere with us.

Which is how I wound up in a Walmart bathroom yesterday with a 5 year old, a 3 year old, a large purse, and Scruffy. I don't like Walmart and I try to never go there, but one of our banks is located inside this store so occasionally I find myself there. My boys, on the other hand, LOVE this store. They beg to visit the toy section. Yesterday my tiny toddler added the holiday section to his list of favorite places insides Walmart. He has a thing for "Ho Ho". If it were up to him our front yard would look like an elf threw up.

My entire entourage shuffled into the large handicap stall and my big five year old immediately threw Scruffy on the floor and then sat down next to him.

"Get off the floor!" "Why?" "It's dirty! And pick up Scruffy!" "His name is Huntley!" "What?" "His name is Huntley, Mommy!" (Obviously his little brother's new addiction to Curious George has rubbed off on him a little. If you don't know who Huntley is then you do not have small children addicted to curious monkeys.)

"OK, you and Huntley need to get off the floor, now!"

"Alex, don't flush the potty. No, Alex, hands down." Alex, NO!"

"Mommy, if  I have to turn around anyways and not watch you pee then why can't I just wait outside?" "Because this is a big store and you might not be safe outside the bathroom. You have to stay with me." "I'd be safe, Mommy. I would just chop anyone who tried to talk to me!" He karate chops the air, showing me the moves he is learning in his martial arts class at China school. "OK honey, I am glad you can karate chop your way out of stranger danger but you are staying here with us!"

"Pee? Me pee! Me pee!" "OK honey, you can pee in a minute." "Me pee NOW!" I know better than to get in the way of a 3 year old in the throes of potty training, so I abdicated the throne, so to speak.

"He doesn't really have to pee, Mommy. He just wants to do it because you are doing it." "Well we're not taking that chance!" "Mommy, Huntley has to pee too!" OK, now I have to draw the line there. I really had to pee, and letting the tiny toddler jump ahead of me in line was one thing, but a stuffed dog? No way!

"Mommy! He really has to pee! Uh oh, Huntley just peed all over the floor."

After helping the tiny toddler off the very high potty and sending him to the other side of the large stall to work on zipping up his pants I started the process all over again. "Turn around, honey and get off the floor! Pick up that dog!" "I have to go potty now Mommy!" oh. my. goodness.

Five long minutes later I have finished helping the tiny toddler zip up his pants. I have stood with my face in the corner in order to give the big five year old "privacy". "Mommy! I need PRIVACY!" I have picked up Huntley off the floor countless times. I have taken my wallet out of the tiny toddler's hands no less than 6 times and figured out why the toilet paper wouldn't unroll. By the time it is finally my turn to go my boys have worked together to strap the tiny toddler into the child seat hanging off the wall. Which was no easy feat seeing as he was holding Huntley, so technically both of them were strapped in. Feet swinging, no need to pee, he was obviously one happy little guy, and what do happy little guys do? That's right. "Jesus lubs me, tis me know. Fo the bible tell me so..."

"Mommy? Does Jesus like Huntley too?" "Jesus loves everyone." "Not bad guys who steal and hurt people." "Yes, honey, everyone." "Well, he likes Huntley more." "Yes, sweetie, I am sure Jesus has a special place in his heart for Huntley."

"Mommy, if I threw Huntley into those bushes in front of speech therapy do you think the bees would come out and sting me or sting Huntley? Because it was Huntley who flew into their bush, not me. So I don't think they would sting me. Do you think they would sting me? Mommy? MOMMY?" (Mind you, we haven't been to speech therapy in over a week. We haven't been anywhere near the building, and no one was talking about speech therapy, Bridget the therapist, or bees.)

"Well, I think if Huntley flew into the bushes the bees might fly out and sting you, so let's not do that, OK?" My happy tiny toddler stopped singing Jesus Loves Me  and starting buzzing like a bee. Like  a  loud bee. A loud, angry bee.

Suddenly, in a very Incredible Hulk kind of move, the tiny toddler broke free from the straps holding him into the baby seat and leapt out of the seat, landing on one knee on the floor, like a tiny little buzzing rock star. The stuffed dog, which had been strapped in the seat with him, goes flying up in the air, towards me. I catch it, prompting my big five year old to loudly shout, "Wow Mommy! I have never seen you do that before on the potty!" The tiny toddler clapped and cheered.

And then I heard it. Laughter. From another stall.

The next time I am out alone with both my boys, and Huntley, I think I'll just hold it until we get home....

every day married is better than any day alone

Marriage is hard. Well, a good marriage is hard. And a good marriage is what we all want, right? It’s what I want. It’s what my husband would say he wanted, if I asked him. Actually, his answer would probably be more like, “We have a good marriage, stop over thinking everything!” But us girls, we know the truth. Marriage . Is. Hard. It is oh my god did I just see you throw your dirty underwear on the floor not two minutes after you watched me pick up every article of clothing off the floor hard. It is really, you’re just going to leave that mess on the kitchen counter when the wipes are right there hard. It is why can’t you put the kids to bed on time so I don’t have to deal with cranky little ones in the morning which makes us crazy and late but you wouldn’t know because you leave before you witness our morning chaos hard. It is did you not see that I was watching that, you can’t just change the channel without asking me hard.

It’s hard enough when it’s just two people in love. Toss in in-laws, careers, bosses, kids, all those times we say “yes”- it’s always for the kids, isn’t it? Yes! I’ll sit on your board! Yes! I’ll join your PTO! Yes! I’ll work in the church nursery! Yes! I’ll work vacation bible school! Yes! I’ll help, I’ll decorate, I’ll make phone calls, I’ll take notes. Yes, yes, yes… But we do it all because we want to do it all, and because every bit of it is important. If I don’t sit on that board my voice won’t be heard. If I don’t join the PTO I won’t know what is happening at the school that is powered by volunteers. If I don’t work in the church nursery every so often then I am not showing my children God’s love, especially since I used that nursery for years.  So I say yes not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because it’s what I want to do. I have spent years picturing my life as a mother. The mother I saw in my mind was involved in her children’s lives, she knew everything that was going on with them, she drove them to school and sports, and music lessons. I always wanted to be the soccer mom. And now I am. J

My version of a soccer mom doesn’t drive a minivan, I drive a small SUV. And in my wildest dreams I never would have thought that one day I would be driving that small SUV to monster truck shows, China school, and Russian festivals. In my earlier dreams my hair was always done, my lip gloss always on, and my underwear always matched my bra. Now I can never find my lip gloss, and I have found that my hair looks much more acceptable at 5:30 in the morning than you would think. And don’t get me started on anything matching… But I have it all because of my  marriage and my sweet husband.

 

As I sit here writing this I can hear all three of my boys struggling downstairs. I can hear the frustration mounting in my husband’s voice. And I think about the decision we made sometime last year that we would hold each other accountable when we got too upset with the boys. When they push us to that point where we want to yell, we would step in and hold each other up. And I am sitting here weighing the options. Do I call my sweet husband and remind him of this decision, which will surely push his frustration from the boys to me? Do I let the three of them figure it out on their own? Do I like it when he steps in to help me when I am frustrated? Yes, marriage is hard.

 

I am thinking about all of this because our 10^thwedding anniversary is coming up this week. Ten years! I have been attached to my husband in some way for the past 13 years. I can barely remember my life before him. He is a part of me, and I could not live without him. Which is a sentiment I have thought of millions of times this past year. Any issues we may have had in our marriage prior to May 2011 were nothing. Nothing. I could tackle those tiny problems with one hand tied behind my back. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that the addition of one child into our little family would cause such ripples of intense feelings, both good and bad.

So yes, our ninth year of marriage was not as easy as our previous eight had been. We argued a little more, we snipped at each other a little more, we occasionally forgot that we are supposed to treat each other better than we treat anyone else. We were a little more sensitive than we needed to be, and we allowed something small to escalate into something big on more than one occasion.

 

Ten years ago I made the commitment to walk through this life with my sweet husband. I have learned a lot in those years. I have learned that even the one who loves you the most in this world will, sometimes, hurt your feelings. I have learned that no matter how angry I get at him I still miss him when he is away from me for too long. I have learned that while he may not notice the little things he will be there for me for the big ones. I have learned that being a Godly wife and mother is a daily struggle but one that I want to continue to strive to achieve. I have learned that nothing that happens outside the home is more important that what happens inside. I have learned about rock music, football, and finances. I have marveled at how someone can wear jeans and a sweatshirt in August. I have learned to let go, to forgive, and to ask for help. I have learned what love really means, and for that I am grateful. I could not be the woman I am today without the man who stands up and leads this family. 

In ten years we have walked through a life of happiness and sorrow. We felt the pain of miscarriages and the struggle of conceiving a family.  He held me night after night after I sat, day after day, by my mother’s bedside in the ICU and he stood up beside me during her funeral, taking over all child care duties and just being there, totally, for me. He kept me sane as we travelled to China and Russia to meet our boys for the first time, and he made me feel as though I could conquer anything as I travelled home from Russia, alone with a new baby son. We have walked together through three job losses and two moves.

Yes, marriage is hard. Our journey will continue, through more happiness and sorrow. Just like our boys, we will continue to grow and change. And I will continue to strive every day to be a Godly wife and mother. Some days will be easier than others, sure. But every day married to my sweet husband is better than any day alone. Happy anniversary to us!

September 14, 2002....

 

 

Dear World,

Today I watched my baby boy walk out of my arms and into yours.  I thought I was ready, but it was harder to watch him walk away than I thought it was going to be.  He was super excited to be allowed, for the first time ever, to get out of the car all by himself – he had no idea the backseat doors even opened from the inside.  He skipped up the sidewalk and into his new school, his dinosaur backpack heavy on his back. He emptied his pockets as we waited in the drop off line, car after car of moms and dads wearing pajamas, business suits, workout clothes. He handed over his Angry Birds slap bracelet, a small stuffed yellow Angry Bird, a piece of wrapped candy, two rocks, and a tiny plastic spinning top. And then he hopped out, yelled, “I love you Mommy!” over his shoulder, slammed the door, and skipped into his new school.

He is yours now, World. Please take care of him. Please be gentle with him. Please don’t show him your harsh reality just yet. I have spent the past four years keeping him close, while trying to teach him everything he needed to know to be ready for this day. I have spent years holding his hand as I walked him into daycare and preschool. He has been surrounded by other well protected children; at daycare, at China school, at family gatherings. I have controlled his TV viewing and monitored his intake of world events. Remember, World, this is the boy who spent months talking about how bad he felt for the “Americans who had people hurt in 9-11”, after overhearing his teachers talk on the anniversary of this horrible day. And he didn’t even know the whole story.  He is sad when his friends are too preoccupied with whatever they are doing to include him in their play. This boy, he feels things very deeply, World, please remember that.

They say that internationally adopted children are often very fierce and independent, as though a fire burns within them. Not my little man. No, World, he is not independent. Oh, he can get his own snacks and he can use the men’s room out in public all by himself, sure. But I make sure the snacks are the ones I want him to eat, and the men’s room is in a safe environment.  He is mine, World, and he has been from the first moment I held him. He didn’t cry when the nanny handed him to me. He held on, and he hasn’t let go of me yet. He still needs me, World. Don’t push your negative views, your bad attitudes, your violence and your anger onto my little boy. Share all you have to offer, World, your good and your bad, with him slowly. Show him your compassion as he makes new friends. Show him your friendly competition as he discovers skills he is great, and not so great, at. Show him your love as he gets a hug from his new principal, something they are still allowed to do in his private Christian school. Show him your amazing abilities as he learns about science. Show him your diversity, World, as he continues to learn where he fits in as an American born in China. Show him your patience and tolerance.

 

 

Keep him safe, World, as he rides one of your big yellow school buses to his after school program this afternoon.  He has never been away from me for so long, or with so many new changes all at once. Before, when he left me, I walked him to his classroom and picked him up. Now he is walking in alone and riding a bus. He is going to have such a great time with you, World. This boy, he is going places. He is smart and funny and compassionate. He is still fragile, though, World, so please, handle my baby boy with care.

 from this 15 month sweetie.... to this big 5 year old in the blink of an eye...

 

life imitates art, again...

Yesterday was a rough day for my big five year old. He stayed home from pre-school to hang out with Mommy, which always seems like a good idea at first, but which often unravels quickly. Keeping my boys home when I have plans to do something fun with them = well, fun for them and for me. Keeping them home when I have nothing fun planned but need them around for something like an appointment of some kind = no fun for anyone.

The morning went OK. My big five year happily played in the office while I worked. He sat at Daddy's desk, (don't touch anything!), contemplated climbing out the window to retrieve his lost baseball, (no, no, no, no, NO!), watched cartoons on TV, (turn that down!), and even managed to put on his own shoes, (no! not the pair with the holes in them!). Then we broke the spell and headed out to the dentist.

A cleft palate and poor nutrition early on in life can lead to unhealthy teeth, so the dentist is not always a fun experience for my guy. Yesterday though, not so bad. After that, though, straight down hill...

On the list of errands to run yesterday was one to the bus garage, to sign my big five year old up for busing for school. But more on that later. Before we could do that we needed to obtain a new birth certificate for my little guy, because I somehow managed to misplace the one I obtained a few months back to sign him up for kindergarten. Why the bus garage and the enrollment office can't speak to each other about this is beyond me. Now the SWCS district has two copies of my son's birth certificate, and he won't even be attending one of their schools....

So we head to Vital Statistics. I drove straight to the address I found online, not realizing it was, in fact, not the same location I went to last time. This time it was the health department. The HUGE health department. The HUGE health department that was having a farmer's market on the front lawn and so there were people and cars everywhere. Everywhere.While it didn' take long to get the birth certificate, thank God, I found myself spewing a constant string of words to my big five year old.

"No we cannot go to the farmer's market today. Because I have to work at some point today. Because Mommy helps to pay the bills. Because Daddy shouldn't have to pay all the bills. Because we need money for things like food. Yes, and toys. Yes, and trucks. No, we can't go to the farmer's market! Didn't I just say that? Because I don't have any money on me. No, I am sure they don't take credit cards. Because I never have any cash on me. Because that is just how Mommy and Daddy work. No, you can't hang your Wendy's kid's meal basketball hoop off the back of that door. Because that is the door to someones office. No, we can't go upstairs. No, I don't think they have toys up there. Yes, I see the pop machine up there. No, we are not getting any pop. Because we don't drink pop. Yes, I know Daddy drinks pop sometimes, we don't. We- you and me! No, we can't go upstairs! That sign says they have drug abuse counseling up there, it does not say they have toys up there. Please don't touch that! No, you can't use the bathroom by yourself. Because this is a big place and we have never been here before. Yes, I will turn around. No, I am not looking, just pee!"

Having finally obtained the birth certificate we headed off to the bus garage. Since I was told to report to the Transportation Department I was expecting an office, not an entire bus garage. You would think that all those buses would have been fun for him, but instead he carried on with his sad lament about how boring it was to hang out with mommy and run errands all day. Not to mention that all these errands were for him. And true to my son's nature, the minute it was our turn at the tiny little window he announced that he had to go to the bathroom. My son- he has peed in bathrooms all over town. "Can you please hold it?" "No! I really have to go!" I look around and see no bathrooms. So now I am thinking that he can't, he just can't pee his pants right now. How will they ever let him on a bus if he has a bathroom accident at the bus garage? A nice bus driver in line behind me points us to the men's room in the large break room. And then my big five year old waits for me to take him into the bathroom. "Go on, I say, pointing to the door." "But Mommy, you said I couldn't use the bathroom by myself in big places where we don't know anybody. We don't know these people. They might not be nice." I look around and see that we are surrounded by bus drives, all listening to our conversation about how "not nice" they might be. I smile at them, trying to speak to them with my eyes. "Oh, the funny things kids say, am I right?", my eyes say. "It's OK, honey, I'll be right out here. Just go on.", my lips  to my ever truthful son.

I sit down at a table and begin to fill out the form that had been handed to be through the tiny window. I keep a watchful eye on the men's room door, but still my son managed to sneak out and find the large wall of bus keys. I look up, and there he is, standing in front of a large peg board full of keys, all numbered. And all I can think of is the Curious George book where George climbs up to the departures board at the train station and moves all the numbers around. Or the Curious George book where George tries on all the fire fighter's clothes and then no one can find their right boots when they need to leave for a fire.  And I am picturing the first day of school, when all the buses are late and thousands of students are stranded thanks to my big five year old. Just a parking lot full of buses, not one running, while all the drivers swap keys over and over again.

I don't know if my son would have touched those keys or not. But I do know that I moved faster than I had all day to get out from behind that table and pull him back to me. My life is crazy enough, it doesn't need to be a Curious George story too!

two successes and one rough night

Thanks to not sleeping very well lately I have had lots of time to think. OK, you got me, I have had lots of time to play solitaire on my iPhone. But sometimes I think. Last night I thought. I thought about what we can do to make the transition of me working from home, sometimes on the weekends, easier for my boys. Easier for all three of my boys. Easier for my husband, who needs to keep the little ones busy and active. And easier for the little ones, who know that Mommy is right upstairs and seem to be just treading water as they wait to hear the office door open. And, let's face it, easier for me, too. So we have some work to do there. We'll figure it out.

I wandered downstairs in the middle of the night and then I found myself wondering why the kitchen floor was so sticky. The floor that I scrubbed twice last week and then used the robotic floor cleaner, who we have named Bob,  on every other night. Except last night, because I never went back downstairs after the drama of putting the tiny toddler to bed. And, not to be outdone, the kitchen table was sticky as well. The big five year old's flip flops were peaking in at me from the back porch and a half gallon empty bottle of bubble solution was in the bathroom sink. So I had a lot to think about.
What the heck went on down here last night?

But none of that matters. Even the crazy bedtime last night isn't important. Here is what I really should be thinking about...

I volunteered in the nursery at church yesterday morning. A few days before this I started telling the tiny toddler that I would be working in the nursery with him. And every time I told him, he clapped and cheered. He truly wanted me there with him. He really is a little too old for the nursery- our church offers Sunday school starting as young as two years old, so, at three, he really should be attending that class and not hanging out with the babies in the nursery. I hadn't tried to transition him to this class yet, though, because a little guy can only handle so much change at one time. But yesterday the nursery coordinator asked him if he wanted to go to Sunday school, he said "yes", and off they went, hand in hand. When I went to pick him up he was hanging out in the middle of a group of kids, popping bubble wrap, which, let's face it, is everyones' favorite thing to do! Success! That's what I should be thinking about!

And here's the biggest weekend success of all. My husband and I went out Saturday night for our small group couples dinner/bible study, and we used a new sitter that the kids had never met before. I knew all was well when I called home partway through the evening and the sitter told me that they had put together the pirate hats I had left for them to make, she was wearing hers, and she was, and I quote, "rockin it." They boys loved her and had a great night. They next morning, yesterday, I went in to wake up the tiny toddler for church. After we played our daily game where he rolls to the far end of his crib where I can't reach and and then pretends he is a cat,  I finally managed to grab him and give him a big hug, telling him that I missed him the night before. He smiled and hugged me back and then told me all about his night while I got him dressed. "Hat", he said, pointing to his head. "ball" he said, pointing the window. (Seeing as no windows were broken I assumed he was pointing outside and showing me where he played ball.) I set him down on the floor after putting on his shoes and told him to go find Daddy. And here's the best part. I followed him down the hall, past his brother's room where my big five year old was simultaneously making his bed and doing some sort of hip hop dance while singing to himself, and into our bedroom. And my tiny toddler walked up to Daddy, touched his knee, and said, "missed you Daddy." oh. my. god. This is huge. Sometimes we feel as though this little guy is more of an occasionally angry room mate than a son. He often seems to exist with us- likes to spend time with us, depends on us to meet his needs, but truly emotionally invested in us? Maybe not so much. But yesterday morning he told his daddy that he had missed him.

I am planning to work tomorrow evening, so before then we will make a plan to keep the boys busy. Maybe I will make a list of activities for them to keep busy. Maybe those activities will take place away from me  outside in the fresh air. Maybe the floor will be sticky and all the kitchen cupboards will be open when I come back downstairs tomorrow. Maybe it will continue to sound as though a herd of elephants are chasing each other around the living room. Who knows. We'll figure out this work any hours I want from home thing. But more importantly, the tiny toddler had two BIG successes this weekend - and that is what I should be thinking about in the middle of the night.

I'm frustrated, but thankful for coffee, wine, and that moment right before the sun comes up

These past few weeks have been, well, difficult. And I can't really put my finger on why. The tiny toddler, who seems to swing up and down with his behavior issues, has been swinging down lately. Way down. But I've been through that before. The house has been especially messy and I have been feeling as though no one else who lives here can see that. Again, nothing new. Our schedule has been busy, with trips to Cleveland. Long car trips with little people. Little whiny people. But again, nothing new. Maybe it's my husband being out of work. Maybe it's the plans we have had to put on hold. Maybe it's the seemingly constant day care issues. Maybe I am just now mourning the loss of Desperate Housewives. All I know is  I have spent the past few weeks on an emotional roller coaster and I really don't know why. Maybe I have been ignoring the signs. Maybe my 42 year old hormones are ready for an assist. Who knows, right? All I can say is, these past few weeks have been oh so difficult. And if I knew why, I would FIX IT ALREADY!

So last night I was watching a rerun of The Middle, the one where the mom has had enough of her less than appreciate family and runs off to her mother's house. And I thought, great! Where are the car keys? Only, I don't have a mother's house, anymore. And even if I did, my mother never really was the comforting type. Somehow I would wind up listening to her complain about her life, when clearly I needed someone to listen to me complain about mine. So I went to bed a little sad. My closest friends live two hours away. My sister lives two hours away. My kitchen floor is a mess.

I woke up this morning an hour before the alarm went off, thinking about life. And I made a decision to JUST STOP IT. I got up, found my beloved flip flops, and went downstairs. I made coffee and sat at the kitchen table, during my favorite time of day. When all the boys in my life are sleeping and it is not yet sunny, so the floor looks cleaner and the dust bunnies aren't dancing in the light streaming in the window above the fireplace. I drank my coffee, said a prayer, thought about my life. I checked my email and planned next week's dinners. I emptied the dishwasher and folded some laundry. I set out breakfast for the boys and then I sat there, just drinking coffee and breathing. Coffee that I made myself, instead of the usual way, which is with two little boys sitting on the counter fighting with each other over who is going to push which button while I attempt to keep them from puncturing their hand on the kuerig's sharp needle. What should take 15 seconds takes 5 minutes with their "help". So I drank. And I took deep breaths. And I let. it. go.

This is my world. And here is what I know. for. sure....

• my kitchen floor will always be dirty.
• the three boys living in my home cannot see the dirt/clothes on the floor/toys everywhere.
• I will step on at least 3 matchbox cars a day.
• my husband means it when he says he wants me to constantly tell him what I need him to do. I call it nagging, but he seems to be OK with it, so now I am that wife.
• At any given moment there will be boys sitting, standing, crawling on my kitchen counters. Any attempt to stop them will be met with whining.
• I will read the book about monster trucks at least 1,000 more times.
• Bath time = water absolutely everywhere.
• I will always need to repeat myself.
• I will always need to repeat myself.
• My husband loves me. He drives me totally crazy, sure, but he does love me.
• Every book the tiny toddler owns will always find their way to our bedroom floor.
• Attempting to correct behavior issues happening at daycare, when I am not sure I trust that they are actually happening, requires an extraordinary amount of patience and energy.
• Potty training sucks.
• Parenting an adopted toddler that first year home is WAY harder than bringing home a 14 month old.
• Coffee can solve a multitude of problems.
• Wine can solve everything else.
• Teaching boys, young and old, to respect women is an ongoing lesson.
• If I don't like the way life is going, I can't blame anyone else. I can fix it, or I can let it go.

So I'm back on top. For now. Wish me luck, peeps.

finally normal

My husband and I take turns putting the boys to bed. We each have our different rituals and we feel that the one on one time is as important for the boys as changing it up is for us. While both boys initially pout when they get the news that Mommy will not be putting them to bed, once they are upstairs I can hear the giggles and laughter floating down the stairs as Daddy reads the tiny toddler's books in funny voices or talks football with the big five year old.

Last night was my turn with the tiny toddler. On Friday he turned three years old, and he has been having so much fun with his birthday this year. Last year his birthday fell six days after the Russian court approved our adoption; he had a cake a new toy but he also had two new parents that he wasn't quite sure what to do with. He had a sleep deprived Mommy who was equal parts over the moon at having a new son and sad beyond belief at missing her oldest one. He had a new Daddy he seemed to only enjoy while Mommy was around and who he certainly was not going to allow himself to be left alone with. So last year's birthday was somewhat of a blur. But this year? He totally gets it and he is having a ball.

When my oldest son turned five back in February I filled his room with balloons so that when he woke up there was a sea of colorful balloons to greet him on his special day. I didn't do that with the tiny toddler this year because he still puts everything in his mouth and it just didn't seem safe. Last night both boys and my sweet husband headed upstairs for bed a little early so that we could clean their rooms, something that is normally scheduled for Saturdays but somehow got away from this week. Daddy helped the big five year old and I headed into the tiny toddler's room. We supervised bed sheet changing and toy pick up and then I got the little guy ready for bed. After putting on his jammies we settled into the rocking chair to read books, which is when the big five year old burst into the room carrying three of his surviving birthday balloons. "I want to give these to Alex since he had a birthday." The tiny toddler slid off my lap and immediately began dancing around the room with his new balloons.

As I watched my boys playing together with the balloons I  realized how "normal" life had been lately. Friday night we had macaroni and cheese and birthday cake for dinner in honor of the tiny toddler's birthday. His older brother couldn't wait to bring out his presents and sing Happy Birthday. After dinner I watched the boys playing with the new bubble/squirt guns in the back yard. They ran at each other, shooting bubbles up into the air, giggling. Saturday evening we took the boys to a friend's house for a China play group picnic. Both boys played with the other children, bounced in the bounce house, ate hot dogs and generally had a great time. There were no melt downs. No running off. No hitting or throwing things. No screaming and tears. Sunday we took the boys to church, where one went to the nursery and one to Sunday school. We grocery shopped as a family and we all hung out in the living room watching the tiny toddler's newest obsession,  Little Einsteins. This may not sound like a big deal to you, but seeing my little guy actually sit down and be able to enjoy and process a television show is a HUGE deal for this family. And then we got to Sunday night, and the balloon dance of joy. And I sat in my grandmother's University of Akron rocking chair and exhaled. We have temper tantrums and melt downs. We have dirt and rocks and we never have matching socks. We have toys everywhere and still occasionally have bored children. We have whining and sticky kitchen floors. We are far from perfect. But we are finally normal.

my mother's day wish list

Mother's Day is this Sunday. I am hopeful for a specific present but since I also asked for said present for my birthday a few months ago I don't have high hopes. But it's all good. Whatever my boys do, or don't do, it will be a great day. After all, there were years that I thought I would never get to celebrate my own Mother's Day, so I am happy just to be a mom. No, really.

But if I were to daydream about the perfect Mother's Day present, previously asked for gift aside, my wish list might look something like this:

• 20 clean fingernails on my two young sons. I can't find a fingernail brush at any store for my two little dirt balls  sweeties.
• No Cheerios or off brand Fruit Loops in the living room. Not.A.Single.One. Not under the sofas, not smashed between the pages of a book, not hiding in the coffee table drawer....
• Just one morning where the big five year old doesn't kick his wet pull up off his body and into the air as high as he can while Mommy ducks so as not to be hit as it lands with a thud. Just throw the thing away already!
• A kitchen floor that stays clean for more than 2 minutes.
• Beer.
• No cat messes on the carpet.
• The tiny toddler happily accepting whatever food item is offered, the first time. 
• My sweet husband's iPhone mysteriously getting lost for a few hours.
• Using the bathroom without anyone pounding on the door or any tiny fingers pushing tiny cars under the door.
• No one under the age of 40 waking me up. 
• A drawer full of matching socks for the big five year old. Why that boy never has clean socks might forever be a mystery to me. 
• No football games, play groups, birthday parties, or lessons of any kind to get to. And all that that implies- no packing apple slices and drink boxes, no loading the car with chairs and strollers, no martial arts uniform to wash and iron...
• Some really good ice cream.
• Nobody saying the word "poop". 24 hours of not hearing that word. Just give me that.
• A winning lottery ticket. Let me clarify. I am not interested in one of those tickets where I win $5.00. I mean a solid, quit your job and stay home swimming in your brand new in ground pool winning ticket. 
• Sex when I am still awake enough to enjoy it. 
• The Christmas lights taken down off the shrubs in the front of the house. That's right, we're that family.
• Marry Poppins landing with her umbrella in my backyard and happily and efficiently potty training my tiny toddler.
• A guilt free shopping spree where I buy only clothes for me. No tiny underwear, no tiny socks, nothing for my sweet husband. Me. Only for me.
• No Tom & Jerry on TV. 
• The organizing fairy showing up to clean out and pull together the closet in the office.
• Time to watch a totally cheesy chick flick, complete with popcorn.
• Being able to use the laptop without any little people tugging on my pants and demanding their turn.
• No guilty feeling when I walk past the shower in the master bath. No wondering when I last cleaned it. I mean really cleaned it, and not the quick once every two weeks half hearted wipe it gets now.
• No one in my house having sticky hands and fingers and touching absolutely everything. 
• The tiny toddler finally understanding that he does not need to scream as though his head in stuck in the rails of his crib just because he has pulled a special little something out of his nose and  wants to show it me. I am sleeping. I do not need to see your boogers at 6am. GO BACK TO SLEEP! 
• A decent photo of me and my boys. One where no one is frowning, no one has their head cocked so far to the right they are out of the photo, no one is holding a toy in front of their mouth or pinching their brother.
• Nobody whining. 

I know. Dream on, right? Maybe, just maybe  Mary Poppins will materialize in my backyard but there is no way we could make it through the day with no Tom & Jerry or whining...

But it's all good. A kiss and hug from my boys. That is all I really need for Mother's Day.

365 days

This past weekend we celebrated the tiny toddler's Family Day. For reasons my husband and I cannot articulate we both dislike the term "Gotcha Day". We prefer to think of these two special days as the days that we all became a family.  Every Family Day is special, of course, but this year the celebration took on a different meaning. It was a celebration of survival. The growing pains our family suffered this past year were not easy. Always worth it, but not easy. And so, one year into being a family of four, I have these thoughts about the past 365 days.

If I had it to do all over again I would have read more books about behavior modification and the adopted child before traveling to Russia. Our adoption agency gave us a minimal amount of information on what to expect, and I truly didn't know any better. Which is 100% my fault. We had so much waiting time before the big five year old came home from China that I read every book about China adoption I could get my hands on. I knew exactly what our trip would be like. I knew how we would be treated in China. I knew what to expect when we came home. But the second time around it happened more quickly. We already had a child in our home to care for and drive around town to preschool, football practice, Sunday school, birthday parties, China school, China play group... It is no excuse, but we were busy living our lives. And we are good parents. We knew what we were doing. And thank God we did.

Because if we had been first time parents this past year would have been unbearable. We would have made way more mistakes than we did. That being said, I still wish I had been better prepared to start from day one the special type of love and discipline needed for a 24 month old adopted from a foreign country. I have no doubt that the frustration we felt when dealing with our sweet tiny toddler did nothing but add to the problem.

If I had it to do all over again I would have put the lock on the refrigerator earlier.

I would have found the solution to the problem of the tiny toddler removing his car seat straps earlier.

I would have removed all the toys before the tiny toddler threw them at my head.

I would have taken more deep breaths. I would have stopped using time outs sooner. I would have, I would have, I would have....

But I can't turn back the clock. And it is time for me to let it all go. I need to remember that we were in the trenches. Had I been on the outside looking in at our little drama this past year I might very well have thought of all of these things, and more. But living it every day, I was too close to the situation to clearly see my way out. So I did what everyone does in a difficult situation. I did the best I could with what I had to work with. And it was enough.

I have 365 days of being a mother to two small boys under my belt. I have 365 days of watching bugs crawl across the sidewalk. I have 365 days of blowing bubbles with the tiny toddler in the bathtub. I have 365 days of laying on our bed reading books with him. I have 365 days of  hugs, and cuddles, and kisses. I have 365 days of watching him say "I love you" in his special version of sign language. I have 365 days of "firsts". Watching him fall in love with his first TV show. Watching him taste peanut butter for the first time. Sharing his first amusement park and seeing his love of merry go rounds bloom right before my eyes. His first English words. His first meeting with Grandma and HG. His first time counting to five.

In three days my tiny toddler will celebrate his third birthday. Last year we were in Russia on his birthday and we celebrated with an odd tasting cake made by the hotel dining room. Me and Daddy and our new son, alone, unsure, not knowing what the future held but thrilled to be together in that moment. This year he understands what his birthday is about. He has picked out the flavor of cake he wants and has chosen the candles for the top. He likes to hold the package of candles and pretend to blow them out. He is ready. Later this month he will have another first- his first American birthday party. Because one of the few things we knew he truly liked last Christmas was buses that is what everyone gave him last year. Every Christmas present he opened contained some sort of bus toy. Now he thinks all presents hold buses and so every time we talk about his birthday he says "bus?". He has no idea....

The big five year old is in his second season of flag football. He will participate in his first vacation bible school this summer. he heads off to kindergarten in the fall, and will also be taking violin lessons, playing sports, and becoming more involved in church. He will continue with China school and his China play group. The tiny toddler is turning three and will soon be starting preschool. He will take swimming lessons this summer and a music class in the Fall. He will start Sunday school and maybe take martial arts at China school with his big brother. He will learn more English and more self control. My family may be done "growing", which is a little sad, sometimes. But we have so much "growing up" still to do.

So here's to another 365 days of chaos and craziness. Here's to more "Mommy, can you put this rock in your pocket cuz i want to keep it forever." More, "Me do it, Mama, me do it!". More singing in the car and dancing in the living room. More pretending the stairs are a train that can take us anywhere in the world we want to go. More watching bugs and playing in the dirt with our little construction cars. More monster trucks and Angry Birds. More giggles because big brother said "poop!". Another 365 days of love.

six weeks of positive parenting

 My husband and I are slowly making our way through the Positive Parenting Solutions online classes. The other day we took the class explaining the "Competent Giant". I love my kids and try not to outright scream at them, but, if truth be told, I have been known to explode now and then. This past year with our tiny toddler has taught us all about the art of the tag team. If my husband senses that I am about to lose it he tags me out and takes over. And I have rescued our big five year old from him a time or two. But after watching what a parent's tirade must look and feel like to a child, I think it will be a long time before I do it again. Hopefully I can remember how it made it feel for a very long time. I know everyone loses it with their kids from time to time, and we all know we shouldn't do it. We all know it is bad for our kids. But seeing it in action really struck a chord with me. So, another thing I have learned from Positive Parenting Solutions that I suppose I should have already known but needed someone else to point out to me. But my kids win, so it's all good.

The next class we took was all about using our "calm voice". Now, this sounds super easy, right? Don't yell at your kids and they will be happier. But here's the thing people. Not yelling at your kids isn't enough. You need to maintain a calm voice while interacting with them. Not yelling, I can do. Always using a calm voice- not as easy as it sounds. I have only been trying to do this for a few days and I can tell you it is not easy. I have found myself raising my voice to be heard. I have heard the sarcasm or sharp note in my words. Tonight at the dinner table I was working with Alex on something, who knows what, eating with utensils instead of his fingers, not purposely dropping food on the floor.... shudder.... Anyways, whatever was happening was upsetting to me and I spoke, calmly. Which didn't stop the behavior and so I spoke again, not so calmly. I then took a deep breath, looked across the table at my husband, who was smiling at me because he knows that using a calm voice all the time cannot be easy for me, and tried again, in a calm voice. This one is not going to be so easy!

Now for the good news. I have been having my big five year old help out around the house for a while now. We never called them chores and we don't pay him for them, at least not yet. But he does have "jobs". He is responsible for putting the clean silverware away after the dishwasher finishes it cycle. He makes his own bed, most of the time. He picks up most of his toys, usually. So I have switched to calling this "help the family". I had already been talking to him for about a year now about what it means to be a part of a family, and so I am hoping that this little Positive Parenting Solutions inspired change in wording will help him to truly understand what I have been saying. And the tiny toddler does his share of helping too- he occasionally will put the place mats on the table for me at meal time and he loves to run the sweeper, although he often only sweeps the same area repeatedly. But that little spot has never looked better!

I have also added a new job for both of boys- carrying their own laundry up the stairs. Why have I not thought of this before? I found two small plastic bins with easy to grasp handles and when I fold the laundry, which is done in the living room, I now just pop their clothes into their respective baskets.  Each boy is now responsible for carrying their own basket up to their rooms and the big five year old knows he now needs to put his own clothes away. We tried it for the first time last night and the tiny toddler grabbed his basket and toddled up the stairs, which, at times, was super scary because he could barely lift the tiny basket up onto each step and a few times he looked like he was going to fall backwards down the stairs. So scary, in fact, that I offered to help him, but he pushed me away saying, "Me do! Me do it!" And he did it. And then he raced back down the stairs on his tummy, his mode of stair transportation if he is in a really big hurry, and proudly accepted high fives from everyone. He was positively beaming! Seriously, I don't know why I haven't thought about this sooner- why have I been lugging their clothes up the stairs every day? Big change!

So, six weeks into my Positive Parenting journey and here is what I have learned:

• MZW & Mommy time starts our day off on a great note and makes our mornings run much more smoothly, but no amount of MZW & Mommy time is enough for MZW. He simply cannot fulfill his need for me. Which I love, of course. But it does make it hard for me to get anything done or to have any time for myself. But I can do all that stuff when he's grown, right?
• Using a calm voice all the time is going to be very hard for me.
• I need to allow my boys to help out more around the house and not get upset when whatever they've done isn't perfect. If my big five year old is getting dressed from his little laundry basket because he didn't put his clothes away, I need to be OK with that. 
• Using less consequences is a good thing!
• We have only had to use "time out" once, the other day, with the tiny toddler.Once, in weeks!
• Reminding my big five year old to use his "regular voice" instead of whining is working. slowly. 
• Patience. Sigh. 

My boys were already on the right path; adding in these Positive parenting approaches is just helping to assure they stay on that path. We are on our way to raising confident, happy, and compassionate children and we know this takes more than us. Our church, our schools, our China group friends and our extended family are all in the mix of what influences our boys. And now, so is Positive Parenting!