the man he will one day become

I saw my little boy grow up a little last weekend. It seems as though right before my eyes he went from my baby to a grown up five year old.  We spent the weekend being very busy, shuttling the kids from one place to another, every moment planned out. Well, to be truthful, we spent most of the weekend shuttling the big five year old around while the tiny toddler came along for the ride. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around I truly was seeing a different boy when I looked at my oldest son.

This happens to mothers every so often. It has only happened to me once before, although I know it will again as my boys grow. I walked away from my then four year old last May to spend a month in Russia finalizing the adoption of his new little brother. I cannot put into words how my heart ached for my oldest son while I was away from him. I couldn't wait to hold him, to touch his hair, to feel his  little body in my lap. My body and mind were tired from the long trip home with the tiny toddler strapped to my hip. My steps had slowed and my sleep deprived brain was getting a little fuzzy. But when we finally landed in Columbus Ohio my strength was renewed and my steps were a little lighter as I walked off the plane and into the arms of my oldest son. I remember sitting on a bench, crying, holding my four year old, with the poor tiny toddler smashed between us. And then I really looked at my boy.

His hair was more course. His head was bigger. His body was sturdier. He had changed dramatically in those four weeks I had missed. And last weekend it happened again.

We are hoping that our big five year old is accepted into the private christian school to which we have applied. Last Saturday we had to rush him straight from China school, where he had already spent two hours completing Mandarin and Martial Arts classes, to an hour and a half of kindergarten testing. While we waited for the test to be completed we chased the tiny toddler around the school and attended a parent orientation meeting. As I sat in that classroom listening to one of the kindergarten teachers talk about the first few weeks of school and expectations, it hit me. My baby was going to be in kindergarten next year. In just three short months he will get on a school bus, by himself, and go to school. He will have to remember his backpack and lunch box. He will not be able to take one of the "baby animals" he carries in to preschool every day. He will be buying milk, for God's sake!

Sunday we rushed straight from church to my big five year old's first flag football game of the season. He played last Fall for the first time and loved it. Football is definitely my little man's game. 

my little football star!

Despite the lack of direction from the coach, my little football player let his talent shine through. He ran for 2 touchdowns and pulled 11 flags. He zigged and zagged and by the end of the game every parent on the sidelines was cheering for him. He was the standout MVP of the game. And I was so proud.

But what made my heart sing even more than the smile on his face when he ran the ball into the end zone was what I saw happening in between his turns to run the ball. My big five year old was doing more than scoring points for his team. He ran next to every other kid when it was their turn to run the ball. He attempted to block for them, even though the team had not yet been taught about blocking. He cheered them on, encouraging his new team mates to run that ball. He jumped up and down and clapped at the end of each play, touch down or not. He not only showed his amazing athletic skills but, perhaps more importantly, he showed his amazing compassion and sportsman like conduct. Watching my son run next to a team mate, cheering them on, brought tears to my eyes. He is growing up so fast.

Later, when I had a moment to sit still and really look at the photo I snapped before the game, (above), I was taken by how small my big five year old looks. Because out on that field I didn't see this little boy- I saw a glimpse of the man he will one day become.

why I think Zhu Zhu pets are better than birth control

After a great Easter weekend spent with family in Cleveland we were heading home when about an hour away from home we ran into a serious traffic jam. With the tiny toddler asleep in his car seat and the big five year old completely entranced with his hand held game I let go of my frustration over this unplanned delay and all the work that lay ahead of me at home, like packing school lunches and unpacking the car, and I had a real adult conversation with my husband. The big five year old was playing a Zhu Zhu pet game in which he had to keep all the pets happy- feed them, put them to bed, help them use the potty. (That's right, the cute little hamsters actually climb up onto a potty and then a flushing sound can be heard.) These little hamsters require a lot of attention and my big five year old was having a hard time balancing it all. It reminded me of our pre marriage days when my husband and I would spend time together playing video games. I used to love the Sims game. Something about being in control of these people on the screen, feeding them, making them drink expresso, decorating their homes.... I loved this game. Loved it. Occasionally I would neglect them to the point where the grim reaper would show up and take my little creations away, which was always a little sad. But the ones that survived- they had a good life. I married them off and soon they started having babies. So then I had these adult Sims to get up, dressed, fed and off to work every day, and these baby Sims to keep clean and fed and find childcare for every day. Soon it all got to be too much and I grew tired of my pretend people- after all, I was living this life already, without the babies. I had a boyfriend, a home to clean, meals to cook, a job to hold down. I was actively trying to avoid the grim reaper in real life, did I really need to do it in a pretend world as well?

I haven't thought about that game in a long time. But my conversation that night with my husband made me realize that I will never need to play that game again. I have a real life Sims situation going on in my own home every day. Just like my Sims, one of my "live" people always needs something. Just when one little person is no longer hungry the other one needs a diaper change. Just when my husband finally has my attention and can actually talk to me one, or both, of the little ones need to talk to me as well. One is hungry. One is dirty. One is needing entertainment. One is needing exercise. One is wanting to talk. One needs a hug. Oh my God, I am living in a video game.

But unlike the video game, I can't turn it off and go back to real life. This is real life. And also unlike the game, the stakes are much higher. If the grim reaper takes my grown up Sims away I can hit a few buttons and create another one. If social services shows up and takes the crying Sim baby from the crib and walks out the door I can match up my adults and have another go at it. And on the plus side, all that "trying" raises their happiness meters. (Unlike the real life "trying", which can lower happiness meters in no time.) But here, in my real life, I have to get it right. And some days are easier than others when it comes to keeping all those balls of need in the air, isn't it?

I had never really thought about it until my sweet husband and I had that discussion in the car the other night. I am totally playing a real life Sims game. I am stuck in a constant loop of feeding, bathing, entertaining, and working to pay the bills. The payoff will be so much more rewarding though. Even though I can't turn the game off when I am tired or frustrated, or create a new character if I make a mistake, I am raising people here in real life. I am helping give this world two more beautiful, charming, intelligent and compassionate young men. And that makes me never want to turn off the game.

My big five year old is now up to taking care of six Zhu Zhu pets in his hand held game. He is sitting on the floor of my office playing the game right now, and I can hear him muttering to himself things like, "I'm going as fast as I can!", and "How can you ALL be thirsty AGAIN? I just gave you a drink!" Better than birth control, this game.

Positive Parenting- Day 1- a smooth morning for all

Day 1 of Positive Parenting. Don't worry, I don't plan to post every day! But this morning was, wait for it.... AWESOME!  We don't have major problems around here discipline wise but mornings have not been going well since we added the tiny toddler to the mix. Prior to our return from Russia my big five year old pretty much had me to himself every morning. Once he started having to share me he became a loud whining time sucking machine. (But he is my loud whining time sucking machine and I love him!)

So yesterday I listened to the online class on morning routines. Most of Amy's suggestions and techniques we were already using but I still found myself nagging and reminding constantly. My frustration would start to show, which would wind up the tiny toddler and increase the whining in the five year old. Every morning my big five year old would:

• whine about having to get out bed
• need help getting dressed
• need help putting on his shoes and socks
• whine about having to brush his teeth before watching TV
• whine about having to eat breakfast before watching TV
• tell me "nothing sounds good" for breakfast and whine about that for a while
• stomp around at least  twice a morning
• cry at least twice a week

And every morning the tiny toddler would:

• ask for a specific food item and then scream when it was handed to him
• take shoes off and throw them
• whine

And every morning my sweet husband and I would:

• let our frustration show in our body language and voices
• not have any time to really talk
• not get to sit at the table together (this is VERY important to both of us.)
• get annoyed with each other when the boys weren't ready to go on time
• often apologize to each other over the phone when my sweet husband would call from his office to tell me the boys got into school OK.

Basically, the job got done. Everyone got dressed, fed, and out the door. But it certainly wasn't pleasant and it often didn't set the tone I want to start my family's day. So I started the online class and was reminded of something. Prior to the tiny toddler coming home my big five year old and I would often have enough time in the morning to snuggle on the sofa, first thing. Now if you know me well you know that both of my boys get a lot of one on one time with Mommy. We have been having Mommy & Matthew time for years, and now we have Alex & Mommy time too. But even with all of this one on one time it was clear that my big five year old felt like he was missing something. After reviewing the obvious culprit I determined that my kids were getting enough sleep at night. The tiny toddler is getting between 10 and 10 1/2 hours of sleep a night and the big five year old gets about 9 1/2 hours of sleep every night. They both still nap for two hours every day at school. So they are well rested.

Today I set my alarm for 20 minutes early, dragged myself out of bed and headed to the big five year old's room. I woke him up and asked him if he wanted to snuggle and read a few books before we woke up his little brother. The smile on his sleepy little face was enough to power me through the rest of my day! We sat down in his big chair and I explained that we were having some Matthew & Mommy time and after that he would need to finish all of his morning tasks before we watched TV. Then it happened.

We read one book and he jumped down off my lap and said, "If I get dressed now can we still read the other book?" With only a little help he got dressed and we read another book. He then asked if he could watch TV because he was dressed. I reminded him that he had to eat breakfast, put on his socks and shoes and brush his teeth first. He then ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth while I got his little brother out of the crib. By the time I had the tiny toddler half dressed he showed up in the room telling me he was going downstairs to get his shoes so that he could put them on now and be "even more ready". My big five year NEVER goes downstairs by himself if the lights are off- NEVER. But this morning he did. By the time I had his brother dressed he was back upstairs, socks and shoes on. He put them on all by himself. Which doesn't sound like much but is HUGE in my world.

He decided on his breakfast before we even got to the kitchen and I was super surprised when the three of us arrived downstairs to see that we were actually ahead of schedule. Both boys sat at the table, ate breakfast and then moved their show to the living room for more TV time than they usually have time to watch. No whining. No reminders. No crying. No stomping around. No tense husband/wife moments.

We even  had enough time to dance around the living room for a few minutes before "packing the car" - what my sweet husband calls loading the boys into the car.

So here's the thing. I am a well trained sales professional and I am good at my job. I know that there are certain ways to say things to a client to help you get the "Yes" response you want. I would never talk to my clients the way I sometimes talk to my boys. Even when I had a large number of associates reporting to me I would never have managed them by ordering them around and nagging. So why was I doing this with my boys?

Two simple changes- 10 minutes of Mommy & Matthew time at the time of day my son needs it most and a change from nagging to "when/then" statements and our morning was a breeze!

welcome to my adventures in positive parenting!

I think my sweet husband and I are pretty good parents. We roll with the total chaos and try very hard to enjoy every moment of it. Personally, I don't mind the little things. My boys can splash water out of the tub. They can race their very loud trucks around the circle of our downstairs while my sweet husband and I sit at the kitchen table, right on the race track, trying to finish dinner. They can rummage through the junk drawer looking for my Bert's Bees to feed their growing lip balm addiction. My big five year can use his "super powers" to climb up onto the kitchen counter and help himself, and his brother, to candy, or a cookie, or a banana. We change diapers on the sofa and the floor. We change diapers in the way back of our Equinator. (Our Equinox- best. car. ever.) I have even changed diapers on the concrete floor of airport bathrooms in both Hong Kong and South Korea. They can litter the backyard with toys and pick out their own clothes, which means sometimes the big five year old looks as though he was dressed by Helen Keller. Truth be told, I am pretty proud of the way we let our boys be themselves. Family over perfection~ that's my motto.

That all being said, however, there are still countless times that I find myself totally exhausted from the nagging and bargaining it takes to keep this family moving. I hate hate hate giving consequences. Can't we all just get along?

So, take the need to lose the nagging and throw in the behavior issues our tiny toddler presents us with on a daily basis and it was pretty clear- we are good at this parenting thing but we could be better. We needed help!

Which prompted a search of parenting styles/classes that fit our family and our specific needs. As an adoptive parent there is no question that some of my parenting techniques must reflect the special needs adoption brings to the table.  I started with Beyond Consequences because I was hearing a lot about this approach from my Families With Children From China Friends. And it seemed like a good system, albeit maybe a tad pricey. I have heard nothing but good things about the techniques used through Beyond Consequences. This program was created by an adoptive mother who truly understands attachment issues and how early life trauma can lead to very severe behavior problems that affect the entire family. Which is exactly what we were facing, but still, the program sounded a tad too severe for us. We don't have violence in the home, we don't have totally unmanageable children. Now, we might, one day, if we don't get a handle on all this now, have those major problems, but right now our issues are not that drastic and I am not ready to label our family in that way. So I kept looking.

Then I found Positive Parenting Solutions. Yesterday I participated in a free online seminar with this organization and I learned a few things. First of all, I learned that I am not alone. In fact, I learned that there are families out there with far more serious behavior problems than what my two little guys throw at me. I also learned that we need to get a handle on this now, before my boys grow into teenagers. I learned that I was doing a lot right, which was unexpected and very cool. I learned that you don't need to have kids with major behavior issues to want to have a calmer more loving household. I walked away from that seminar more excited about parenting than I have been in a long time. So I jumped in with both feet and signed up for the online classes and resources. I began using just one of the techniques I learned about yesterday with my big five year old during our visit to the library and we managed to have a perfectly pleasant library visit, complete with kiddy computer time, a game of checkers, and books checked out, all with no whining when it was time to end each activity. Score!

Tomorrow morning I plan to start using a few techniques to make our morning routine run a tad more smoothly. Does it make me a nerd that I am so excited about this?  And in my true fashion, I plan to blog about it all the way. What worked, what didn't, what changed my life. So stay tuned, my adventures in positive parenting are just beginning!

if mothering were a drug, it would be a Category "C"

I was pregnant once, for about a week. And then there was another time that I was "possibly" pregnant. Yes, through the wonders of IVF you can be "possibly" pregnant. "Your levels are high enough to maybe be pregnant but we really need to wait a few days and take another few gallons of blood to be sure." But the other time, when I was really truly pregnant my husband and I received the startling news while in the hospital ER, where I had gone for a totally unrelated issue. Imagine our surprise - we weren't even trying to have a baby. I came home from the hospital dazed and surprised, and armed with pamphlets on how to care for myself, safely, especially how to treat the horrible case of flu I was suffering. I landed squarely in the world of drugs and their alphabetical categorizations.

Category "A" are the drugs considered completely safe for a pregnant woman to ingest. Basically, it's vitamins. Category "B" are generally safe. These drugs have been proven to not have any adverse effects on the baby. The categories go down to "D", if I remember correctly. Category "D" drugs you don't even think about taking, no questions asked.

But Category "C" is the one that always worried me. These drugs are sometime safe. Sometimes not. Sometimes it depends on the doctor prescribing them, as every doctor has a different opinion. often the decision to take these medications is based on the potential outcome. If the expected outcome outweighs the potential risks then you take the drug. Category "C" is a very gray area. I understand gray areas, and even enjoy them in some aspects of my life. Many a passionate discussion has been had over a "gray" area - religion, politics, sexual orientation, career choices - I am thankful that this world is not black and white. But when it comes to parenting I wish it weren't so gray. When it comes to my parenting decisions I often feel as though I am trapped in a Category "C" kind of life. I find that Category "C" is a tricky place to be. And I feel as though many of my motherhood decisions fall into this gray and confusing category.

Some of my mothering decisions falls very easily into an understandable category. Kissing my boys goodnight, Category "A". Taking my shoe off and beating my child with it- Category "D". Give a time out when the 2 year old refuses to sit at the dinner table? Category"C".  Do enough research on a discipline or children's medical issue and you will find experts weighing in on both sides of the equation. I feel as though many of the decisions I make regarding my boys are Category "C" decisions.

• pulling the preschooler out of school all day for mommy and matthew time
• allowing the tiny toddler to eat the cheerios he just found on the floor, even though I cannot remember when we last had cheerios. On the one hand, they may have been there a while, but on the other hand, I scrub the floor frequently, so how old could they really be?
• letting my big four and a half year old ride his scooter without a helmet.
• the occasional all day pajama and television fest that occurs in my living room.
• letting the big four and a half year old occasionally sleep in my bed with me when he wakes up at the crack of dawn.
• giving my boys juice. in sippy cups.
• giving my big four and a half year old most of his drinks in sippy cups instead of  teaching him how not to spill.
• occasionally giving the boys popsicles for breakfast.
• pulling pants out of the hamper for the boys to wear again.
• testing the truth in advertising when they say those diapers will hold for 12 hours. (please don't judge me. most of those hours are spent asleep.)
• allowing the boys to watch tv during breakfast on a school day just so they will, for god's sake, eat and get moving.
• putting the baby to bed in the crib awake. not crying, but awake.

My Catagory "C" list could go on and on. Daily I allow my boys to do something that I feel maybe I shouldn't do. We all do, I am sure. As mothers, we are sometimes frustrated, in need of a few moments of peace, or just plain tired.

We all allow Catagory "C" to creep into our daily routines. I don't know about you, but I know that I need to give myself a break when this happens. And if your Catagory "C" moments are weighing on your heart, then you need to give yourself a break too. Besides, I have to say, I don't think my boys are any worse off for my moments of weakness. This parenting job is a long exhausting journey and there are going to be Catagory "C" moments. Which is hard for me, a past straight A student. I want to always be an A. I strive to always  be an A. But sometimes, I will be lucky to be a C. And I need to be ok with that.

side note: this former straight A student can't spell the word "category" and misspelled it every single time in this post. Thank goodness for spell check. The word shows up at least 15 times here- it took me longer to fix the spelling errors than to write the post!

it's a lot of responsibility, this parenting gig

The other day I received a very thoughtful card in the mail from my mother in law. She had remembered that one year ago today, around this time, we were burying my mother. She sent me a thinking of you card, in which she wrote that she was happy that I was a part of her family. It was, by far, the single nicest thing that anyone had done for me in a while.

I was still thinking about this thoughtful gesture when I picked up my boys from daycare/preschool that afternoon. On the way out of the church I told my son about the card I had received from his grandmother and I asked him if knew what Grandma had been feeling when she sent it to me. We talked about compassion and empathy. Later that evening at the dinner table I asked my big four and a half year old if he could tell Daddy what feeling Grandma had when she sent me the card. He couldn't. But he could say that Grandma was thinking about Mommy and that it made Mommy feel good. I'll take it.

I talk to my boys a lot about what we are feeling. And about what other people are feeling. And about our role in what others are feeling. I believe that understanding how we feel and how our actions impact how others feel is the foundation for raising compassionate, caring, and loving boys. I believe that boys need to be allowed to be boys- to run and jump and lay on the sidewalk looking at bugs. I want my boys to climb trees and play football and get dirty. But I also want them to appreciate music and feel the power and satisfaction of creating music. I want them to read and be able to appreciate, if not like, art. I want them to be well rounded. And that includes compassion.

The same day that I received the thoughtful message from my mother in law a friend of mine posted on facebook a status update about bullying in elementary school. A discussion ensued and one theme was prominent ~ none of us really remember kids being mean to each other when we were in elementary school. And it got me thinking. This is why I want my boys to understand compassion and empathy. I know there is a fine line between raising confident boys and raising bullies.

I also know that I have sons who may one day be the target of a bully. My big four and a half year old has a crooked little nose that is pushed in one side, a casualty of his cleft lip and palate. One day it will be repaired. But he has already come home from preschool asking why his nose is different that his friends'. The jump from 4 year old friends innocently asking him why his nose is different to a 5 year old bully mocking him for it is not a huge leap.

I know both my boys might one day face a pint size accuser calling them out on their heritage or on the fact that their mommy isn't "real". There is a real chance that my boys might be bullied. I also am not so unaware as to assume that my boys won't ever be the bully. Which is why now, when I see the chance to teach them about compassion, I seize it.

Last week when I picked up my big four and a half year old from school he and his friends were running races in the gym. My little guy is fast. He might not have noticed how his winning every footrace was making one of his friends sad, but I did. When we got to the car I asked if he had noticed. (He hadn't.) I asked if he could think of something he could do to make his friend feel better. (he couldn't.) We then brainstormed about skills his friend has that he could compliment. We came up with one, and he promised to try to remember to mention it the next day. Who knows if he did or not, but at  least he thought about it. At least, for a few minutes during our car ride home, he thought about how when he wins, which is awesome, someone else loses, which is not so awesome for them. At least, for a minute, he thought about how he could make someone else feel better about themselves.

It's a start. It's a lot of responsibility, this parenting gig. I don't want my boys to be bullied as they navigate the already difficult world of growing up. But I don't want them to be the bully either. I want them to be confident and strong. But not so strong that they are hateful. I want so many things for my boys that it sometimes overwhelms me. The good news is that I am in control of at least a little part of their destiny. I believe the end of bullying starts at home. By teaching, and sharing, and talking, and living my words every day. Even the two year old knows how to say he is sorry. And I know when I first started making him say it when he hit his brother or threw something at my head that he had no clue what it meant. But now he says it while gently rubbing my arm, or while giving his older brother a little hug. Now he knows what it means to be sorry- he knows that he hurt someone and he has to make it right. And that is a good first step.

I am so thankful to be a part of a community

There's this woman I know who is feeling totally alone. A busy, burned out, hard working single mother of a girl on the verge of teenage craziness, she is finding that there are very few supportive people in the corners of her life. Unlike me, I thankfully admit. I have loving, supportive people in my corner. In every corner of my life. And it feels good, it really does. And so, naturally, I feel bad for this woman. I do. I really do. So I have been thinking about the supportive people in my life and it got me thinking. It is all about community. And becoming a part of a community takes time. It takes work. It takes the realization that it's not all about you. It takes putting others first, especially your children. It takes faith.

My husband and I used to belong to a small group through our church. We were matched with four other young couples and met at least once a month for three years. About two and a half years in it became painfully clear that this wasn't working for us. We brought our oldest son into our family about a year into joining the group and became the only couple with children. Suddenly we were dealing with baby sitters and issues our fellow small group participants couldn't understand. We found we weren't getting as much out of the bible studies as we should have. We began to dread the get togethers. So we decided, after much thought, to leave the group. That was a while ago, and since then I have realized that it wasn't the small group mentality we didn't like. It wasn't the bible study. It was just that particular group that didn't work for us, even though we liked and respected everyone there. From that small group experience though, we found a few very good friends and many others who would help us in a pinch. We see these people at church, at day care, in the community, at the grocery store... they are  part of our community.

I am a busy woman. I have to feel pretty strongly about something before I get involved. I am quiet by nature and am happiest when at home with my husband and boys. So it was a big step for me to join the board of Central Ohio Families With Children From China. (If you check out the link that's my sweet boy on the front page, on the right, in the Brown's shirt.) But I had to join. I felt that our youngest children from China, and our boys, especially, were under served by this very family friendly group. And I believe that you must be the change you want to see in the world. So I joined the board. I became active. I helped to start a social group for the youngest adoptees. I put mine and others' kids first, and I was the lucky one. The other families in this group - they are a part of our community now.

I have a small handful of close friends from college that are  part of my community. I have my Kent State University Kappa Kappa Psi brothers. We may not chat every day but my brothers will always have my back. They are my community. And it goes on and on.

I find myself getting frustrated sometimes when people feel so alone. Why can't these people see the bigger picture? They feel they don't have the time to join a church, or a club. They think they are the only ones with busy jobs or occasionally wild kids. They live in their cocoon. And when the need a ride because the car broke down, or need a sitter because the kid is sick and that meeting just can't be missed, they have nowhere to turn. Which perpetuates the cycle of feeling alone. I know it's not easy. But break the cycle. Find your community. It takes time. It takes work. it takes putting others, including God, first. But being a part of a community is how we are intended to live. I am so thankful for my community.

better parenting through coffee

Thank God I know my sister. Alright, well, of course I  know my sister. I guess what I meant was thank God we were both in college at the same time. (don't ask.) We went to different colleges in neighboring towns, so we were able to spend a lot of time studying together. We studied at her student union, we studied at my student union, (although we called it the student center at my school...), we studied at coffee shops. And in between all of that studying my older sister introduced me to joys of coffee.

I am fearful that this confession will lead you all to figure out my age but I'm saying it anyways. I grew up in a time when high school kids did not have access to nor did they hang out in coffee shops. There was a coffee place in Kent, which has since closed, (sigh), but until I was in high school we didn't even have fast food coffee available in my tiny little town. "Having coffee" was just not something we kids were doing. (oh my God, how old am I?)

My dad drank a lot of coffee but it was just understood that I was not old enough to partake and was not going to be old enough for quite some time. Then my sister came back to town and poured me my first cup. And I was hooked.

After college my sister moved to Lakewood where I visited her regularly and fell in love even harder with my new caffeinated friend. And now, totally addicted.

Better parenting through coffee. That's me.

I have a new coffee pot that I hate. My old one was over 10 years old when it finally died. It was white and cheap. I replaced it a few months ago with a Mr. Coffee. Which does not work properly. The pause feature doesn't work and the numbers on the clock don't show up all the way. The coffee is good though. And this one is black, which matches my other appliances, so there's that. So I can't really put my finger on why I have this weird dislike of my new coffee pot. All I can say is that I am annoyed when I look at it. Really. My coffee pot annoys me.

Despite it so annoying me I set it up every night to automatically turn on every morning. I love knowing my coffee is downstairs waiting for me as I rouse the boys out of bed and into their clothes every morning. As we walk down the stairs my big 4 year old always says "I smell your coffee, Mommy. Does it make you happy to smell it?" Yes, my boy, yes it does.

I gather up the boys' breakfasts and get them started on eating. Then I pour my first cup. Add the perfect amount of cream and ahhhh. I take a too hot sip and set the coffee down on the kitchen table. I break up a few breakfast table fights, replenish the little one's yogurt or juice- he eats and drinks everything at top speed and then freaks out until more is presented for him. I add the ice packs to the lunch boxes. Take another sip. By now my husband is downstairs and sometimes I sit down with him while he eats breakfast. Maybe another sip or two. Usually not though. Somehow, between getting the kids to eat and all the popping up and down from the table prevents more sipping.

Breakfast over and on to brushing two sets of little teeth, which these days require a lot of cajoling. My big 4 year old hates the taste of his new big kid toothpaste. He loves, however, the spitting that accompanies the new fluoride paste. The two year old likes the taste of his toddler toothpaste but prefers to just suck it off the brush while it remains motionless in his mouth. Shoes are next. Out the door- lunches, school bags, stuffed animals and matchbox cars and sippy cups. Buckle kids in car, hug, kiss, high five them both,  (the actual ritual is "hug, kiss, high five, spit on youuuuuu", but I try to avoid the spit on your part.) Kiss the husband. Stand on front porch signing "I love you" and making funny faces at boys as they drive away. My big 4 year old makes the funny faces back and signs "I love you" as the 2 year old signs his version of  "I love you" through his tears. Leaving Mommy at home is still not so easy for the poor little guy.

Back into quiet house. Coffee is now cold. Drink some of it. Reheat it. Not so good reheated. Clean up breakfast and then begin daily routine of keeping house clean and pulled together. By the time I am ready to start my work day the coffee pot is off. I turn it back on and maybe, if I am lucky, get to drink another cup before it turns off again. I think to myself that I have, once again, made too much coffee. Tomorrow I should make a smaller pot. But then later, when I am getting the pot ready for the morning I will absentmindedly put in the same amount of water and grounds. And the cycle will start again. Best cup of coffee I never had....

Sometimes I have coffee in the evening. Sometimes I use my new french press to make overnight iced coffee. I frequent Starbucks and other coffee shops, and my big 4 year old is so accustomed to coffee shops that he now requests to go and play Uno during our Mommy and Matthew time. Better parenting through coffee. It's all good....

meatless monday is back, baby!

You know my main goal for 2010 was to "eat outside the box". I made great strides in feeding my family less processed foods and more home made goodness. Then we travelled to Russia in February of 2011, came home, and prepared to leave for Russia again, this time for a month. Every free moment was taken up with planning for the new baby, planning for the trip, wrapping up work for my 3 month leave and getting my 4 year old mentally and physically prepared for a month without Mommy. We ate what I cooked, and what I cooked was not always the best. I am happy to report that many of my new habits stuck; my quest for easy whole foods recipes really paid off and I was able to stick to it a good deal of the time.

Then we came home and became a family of 4. I don't think you can really explain what you go through when you introduce a 24 month old to an already established family. It's not like babysitting someone else's kid. This is a child who has had his entire life completely uprooted. Everything he as known and trusted has disappeared and he has no reason to think it won't happen again. Taken from the only home he has ever known to a hotel, then the long travel home, then a new home, with people who look, smell, and sound different. Different foods, different bed, different toys. Our first 2 weeks home I basically ran around protecting our new little guy and making him feel safe and loved. Now we have settled into a routine and while there are still challenges, of course, we are slowly getting back to our new normal. And I am slowly getting back to eating outside the box again.

Today we celebrate meatless monday with a super easy meal of grilled cheese and home made tomato soup. Yum! Seriously folks, it is only slighter harder than opening a can. And soon everyone will have fresh tomatoes piling up!

Super Easy Tomato Soup

Ingredients



4 cups chopped fresh tomatoes


1/4 quarter cup onion

1 whole clove garlic

pinch basil
2 cups chicken broth (can also use veggie broth)2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons flour

1 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons white sugar, or to taste


 1.In a stockpot, over medium heat, combine the tomatoes, onion, garlic, basil and chicken broth. Bring to a boil, and gently boil for about 20 minutes. Remove from heat and run the mixture through a food processor into a pan.

2.In the now empty stockpot, melt the butter over medium heat. Stir in the flour to make a roux, cooking until the roux is a medium brown. Gradually whisk in a bit of the tomato mixture, so that no lumps form, then stir in the rest. Season with sugar and salt, and adjust to taste.

enjoy!

this is who I was meant to be

Taking my little family from one kid to two has been so much fun! Going from parenting one four year to a four year and a two year old has been challenging, but it has been more exciting and rewarding than I had imagined. My boys are getting to know each other, starting to play together, and slowly starting to show a little less jealousy when Mommy's attention is needed with one child over the other. Just a little less. I still always have at least one child hanging off of me, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

When my older son was a toddler I watched his every move. I baby proofed our entire house and admonished my husband when he didn't close both the gate at the bottom of the stairs and the one at the top. I never let him eat unless he was sitting in his high chair. I was over the top careful with my sweet little guy. This time around I am finding that I am a lot calmer. I have learned that my older son is going to climb over the sofa, which means that, occasionally, he will fall off. I have watched both my boys stand on a kitchen chair to reach the counter. I have witnessed them falling over in the bathtub and dunking into the water. I know they will fall, they will scrape their knees, they will eat too much cotton candy and have tummy aches. And none of it will throw me into a panic.

I truly feel as though I have come into my own. This is what I was meant to be; a wife and a mother. There is nothing that I want more, and nothing more that I want in my life. I knew I would be happy when my family was complete, but I had no idea I would be this happy. And this is how I know. This was my morning yesterday:

My two year old managed to complete all of these tasks between 7:45 am and 11:00am:

•  take ever paper out of the accordion file I had been using for the adoption and spread them throughout the living room. Anyone who has ever gone through the adoption process knows how much paperwork is involved. That file was full of copies of every document we might ever need, and every copy was tossed onto the floor. It looked like it was snowing in my living room.
• take every small toy and matchbox car out of the canvas bin, look at it, and toss it aside.
• take every pot and pan out of the cupboard, bang them together, then throw on kitchen floor, making lots and lots of noise.
• steal Mommy's cell phone and hide in seat compartment of school bus riding toy.
• sit in high chair and throw shape shorting blocks across kitchen, narrowly missing Mommy's head. Repeat three times before Mommy finally takes blocks away.
• sneak off to ride big brother's new scooter, fall off repeatedly, cry. run over own foot, Mommy's foot and the cat. Repeat.
• dump bag of goldfish crackers on kitchen floor, amid Tupperware and pans previously removed from cupboards. run over crackers with scooter. sit on cracker pile and eat own weight in colored goldfish.
• shove cheese curl into DVD player. Refuse to show Mommy where cheese curl had been hiding. (I didn't even know we had cheese curls...)
• remove shorts and diaper. attempt to flush diaper down toilet. run around house naked while waving diaper over head. giggle.

all of this in 3 hours. It took me most of the afternoon to clean everything up. And I loved it. This is what I was meant to do.

always something to feel guilty about...

This morning was a good morning. Matthew slept until we were ready to get him up, which is unusual. Funny though. He cries in the middle of the night, like he often does, just a quiet cry, loud enough to wake us up but then he goes right back to sleep. He does this frequently throughout the night, although not as often as he did when he first came home. When he first came home he would scream these blood curdling screams, wailing, and we would rush to his crib, where he was sound asleep. We are not sure if it is an orphanage thing, or an ear thing... But he cries less now, and not so strongly. Which still wakes us up, or me, at least. I lay in bed and think "Oh, Matthew, honey, it's ok. Go back to sleep." But this morning, he was sleeping so soundly that I hated to wake him up.

When he doesn't cry, I should be happy. I can get ready for work in peace, not rushing around trying to brush my teeth while standing in my closet trying to pull together something to wear. But that is not what happens. Instead, I panic a little. Why is he so quiet? Why can't I hear him breathing? Should I check on him? There is always something to feel guilty about, I think. Always something to panic about...

But I held it together, and finished my morning, and then went to wake up my little angel. And he was so well behaved while getting dressed, also unusual. By the time we made it downstairs we were actually ahead of schedule. We all made it out the door on time this morning, on a Monday!

So panic over, for now. Until lunch time, when I will sit at my desk and think about my son eating his lunch, sitting at the little table, in his little chair. Not in a high chair, all strapped in and safe, like he would be at home. Eating his lunch in a room full of toddlers, not with the one on one attention he gets from Mommy at home. So the panic and the guilt will begin again. Did I cut up his food small enough? Should I have taken the fruit out of the cup, because some of the pieces are kind of big... Will his teachers make sure he doesn't choke?

Then lunch passes, and the panic subsides. Until the next thought crosses my mind.... Will something happen because I am not with him? Then I will arrive at the door to his classroom, peeking in through the little window, and watch as he plays with a truck on the colorful carpet. And the door will open and he will run to me, tossing the truck away, yelling "mama" and jumping into my arms. And we will all have survived another day.