Bye Bye, Bottles

Hello, kitchen counter.

Even though I cried and gnashed my teeth when nursing didn't work out and I had to use bottles, and even though I may have complained "once or twice" about having to wash all those bottles, and even though I may have mentioned how annoying it was to have a bottle rack taking up permanent residence on my kitchen counter, I'm going to miss those bottles. Really, I will.

There are a lot of fond memories of curling up on the couch with a baby and a bottle. A lot. And I will definitely miss that snuggle time with my little Owen.

Wait a minute.
What's that lone bottle doing up there in the back of the cabinet with all the baby cups Owen now uses?

Oh, come on.
You can't expect a girl to give up the bottle cold turkey, can you?
It's for a sick day, or a rainy day, or today if I get the shakes from withdrawal...

Mmmmm....crackers

Meal times with Owen are quite annoying interesting. I've captured one meal in pictures, but please know that his unique "process" is repeated at each and every meal/snack time.

Enjoy.

Step 1: Examine and study the food.

Step 2: Touch the food to your mouth and stare at your mother doubtfully.
(Did she try to sneak something in there that you won't like?)

Step 3: Once you realize the food is in fact one of your favorites and there was no trickery involved by the hands of your mother, devour said food.

Step 4: Make sure to get every crumb from your hands into your mouth.
After all, according to those around you, each calorie counts.

There is also a process for foods we dislike.

Step 1: Examine and study the food.
Step 2: Touch and play with the food being extra cautious to keep it away from your mouth.
Step 3: Discreetly feed the food to the dog who is always sitting by your chair.
Step 4: If the dog is outside, chuck the food as far as possible from your chair.
Step 5: Scream until your mother brings you some more of those peanut butter crackers and repeat steps 1-4 listed above.

I straight up stole (with permission) this from another adoption blog.

Each statement resonates with me, but I never could have written it so eloquently. Please enjoy:


"I am the Truth.

Recently there have been many stories in the news regarding international adoption. Stories about corruption and trafficking, about unethical agencies and uncaring parents, about abuse and about neglect, about unprepared families and uninvolved agencies, but are those stories really the truth about what international adoption is? In the face of these stories, the Joint Council on International Children's Services has asked that all adoptive families speak out about the truth of international adoption.

But what is the truth of international adoption?

The truth is international adoption is not for the ill-prepared or the uncommitted- but then that is true of parenting- PERIOD

The truth is your child comes to you with a history that you not only were not a part of, but that you might never ever know. Some of that history may involve their first families or foster families and you will realize that these people have become part of your lives, regardless of whether or not you have ever met them or even know what they look like.

The truth is smiles and hugs, tears and tantrums, joys and sorrow.

The truth is that you will always cringe when people ask you if you have children “of your own” because you understand how totally and completely your child is yours even while others can’t understand how that can be so

The truth is that your child's story becomes part OF you yet it doesn't belong TO you. It is neither yours to tell or to interpret.

The truth is that love is not enough.

The truth is that you occasionally feel that you have to explain or defend your family to others and this includes the seemingly positive statement that you “saved” your child. No matter how bad a situation they might have been in, what happens after an adoption is parenting, not saving.

The truth is you need to think about things you may never have ever considered before and things that maybe you would rather not consider- things like racism, classism, privilege, power and entitlement.

The truth is tiny handprints on the wall, little footprints on the floor, potty training, homework, band-aids, piles of laundry, sloppy kisses, bouquets of dandelions and belly laughs.

The truth is that every news story about your child's country of origin now matters to you too.

The truth is that great sadness at what was lost can exist in the same space as great joy at what was gained.

The truth is that a child can be the bravest person you have ever met.

The truth is that international adoption is messy and complicated and hard and amazing and wonderful.

Before we began the adoption process we took some adoption classes. On the last night there was a panel of adoptive parents (all of whom had only adopted children) One by one they each told their stories and each said they could not have loved their child more if they had been born to them. And while I understood that academically, I wondered how they could be so sure. I now look at my daughters and know birth is not what makes a parent. I look at my girls and know they are mine- yet at the same time, I also know they are not mine alone. I look and wonder whose eyes do they have, where does their personality come from, how much is nurture and how much is nature. But I do know- with every fiber of my being that parenthood is not based on genetics or birth or sharing a resemblance.

The truth of international adoption is that family isn't determined by the single act of giving birth but by the act of simply BEING a family.

THIS IS THE TRUTH OF INTERNATIONAL ADOPTION"

Swinging along....

Life has been hectic lately, to put it mildly.

And for awhile, I only added to the chaos. I stopped trusting and allowed myself to wallow in fear and worry. Then Todd reminded me that He is in control, that He loves our kids even more than I love our kids, and that He has a plan. And guess what? His plan may not be my plan. Shocking, I know. And guess what else? His plan for me may be different than His plan for my friends. But it is His plan, and I assure you, His plan is greater than my plan.

So this is the new us.
We're swinging along.

Sometimes we're just hanging on, trusting while we wait for answers.

Sometimes (last Friday), we're coasting with a smile as He shows His faithfulness.

Other times, we're just taking this journey together, one baby step at a time.

But we have each other and we have Him.
I mean, really, is there anything better than that?

Day of Rest

We take the notion that Sunday should be a day of rest very seriously around here. Well, let me rephrase that, the kids and I take it very seriously from about 1:00pm on. Todd is always working late on Sunday's, so the four of us take advantage of his absence to do....well....pretty much nothing.

Last fall we started a new tradition: Sunday night picnics. Sometimes we join friends, but most nights it is just us four, and after our winter hiatus, Sunday night picnics are back with a vengeance.

I usually let the kids pick the park and food of their choice, and we have a blast.

We hug our brothers and wrestle in the grass.

We cheat and get a head start at races.

We delight in the giggles of the youngest on the swing.

We don't worry about laundry or dishes or messy rooms awaiting us at home.
We go.
We play.
We rest.

My Little Habesha

The past few weeks have been very trying with our little Ethiopian. He seems to go in cycles and get in ruts while he is trying to process things. It is painful and frustrating and tiring and heartbreaking to watch. He acts out, needs constant physical affection, asks hard questions, and tests boundaries. He breaks toys, wanders off in stores, cries a lot, and wants to be constantly held. And just when we think that we're doing something terribly wrong, the cycle ends and we see growth. And we always hope and pray that with that growth will come more understanding and security in his heart.

Do I think these are three year old issues or adoption issues? Probably both.

Does it scare me that he needs constant reassurance of our love? Most definitely.

Do I understand why he feels that way?
Absolutely.

Would I give anything in this world to change that?
Without a doubt.

You see, even on our worst and most trying days, my love for Isaac never waivers. My patience does, but I will continue to show him that no matter what he does, how he acts, or how much he doubts, I will never leave him. Some days that's a really big job (and one I don't always handle well), but I gladly accept it.

Loving this little boy is easy.

What is he doing right this minute? Well, I couldn't find him for awhile until his sister and I pulled the toy baskets out from under the bed. Why would you take your Sunday afternoon nap anywhere else?
(Evidently he was trying to hide and surprise me, but fell asleep instead.)

What was he doing this morning at church? He was an example of a pure heart and unconditional love. You see, Isaac's good friend John was in a terrible car accident on Christmas day and his life has taken a detour that no parent ever wants to witness. Isaac saw him again the other night (where this pic was taken) and was a little bit shy but wanted to hold his hand and spend time with him.

This morning at church there was no shyness, only sweet acceptance. John was crying and Isaac went to him and started rubbing his feet. He kept repeating "it's okay, John." When it was time to go, he laid his head on John's chest and told him he loved him. That's my little habesha and I could not have been prouder or more touched in that moment.

Yup, loving this little boy is easy.

"Not flesh of my flesh,
nor bone of my bone,
but still miraculously, my own."
-Author: unknown


Sweet John and his parents could use many, many prayers. Here is the address of his caring bridge page. He is a trooper and a fighter and though we don't always understand it, God is going to use him in a big way.
http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/johnmoorefield

Famous Artists

We are so posh. Last night we went to a very classy art show in Knightdale. (I know, you didn't know such distinguished activities were available in the Knightdale area...) The artists are household names and not only did we get to see their art, we were also able to eat cheese and crackers with them and talk about the inspiration behind their creations.

Here are two of the artists with their award winning work. Please note the first prize ribbons placed on these exquisite masterpieces. Truly, they are amazing.

This artist titled this piece "Colors". Wow - that is deep.

This piece was titled "I". The mind boggles. Such intensity.

Even our youngest did not want to do anything inappropriate (although he did soil himself) in such an elegant setting. Not wanting to get dirty, his preferred mode of transportation was walking while beaming adorably.

Our night of extreme elegance is over.
Back to the real world.

Wild Turkeys

They may look sweet and innocent, but these two have been banished to the back yard until dinner because they have been acting like...

this wild turkey that was roaming through that same backyard this morning.

Seriously, if I had a nickel for every time I heard "I'm telling Mom" today, I would have what feels like about 500,000 more nickels than when I woke up this morning.

Banished.

Remember when Romeo was banished, and then a lot of bizarre things happened, and then Juliet went to see the apothecary and he gave her a drug that made her fall into a deep sleep? Anyone know the name of that apothecary or that drug or where I can find it? Deep sleep is sounding quite nice right about now. :)

The Days are Long.....

Ever heard that saying in parenting that the "days are long but the years fly by?" Today that saying was very true in this house. Today was long. Real long. We had a very unhappy 14 month old, an overly mothering 5 year old, a quite deviant crayon incident with a 3 year old, and if we're being honest, we also had a very cranky 32 year old.

Long.

Here's the great thing about parenting though....
I'm pretty forgiving.
The kids (thankfully) are even more forgiving.
And tomorrow is another day.

Did I mention that today was long?

I think these two pictures from last Sunday sum up today quite nicely. Unfortunately, they probably also paint a fairly accurate picture of a lot of days in our house:

Owen not feeling well and crying.
Emma Grace trying to help by mothering smothering.
Isaac standing in the background with a bewildered look about him.

If Isaac had expressed what he was feeling at the time, I think it would have gone a little something like this....
"Mom, what the hell? Remember when we were all four getting along just fine, and you and Dad decided to try for one more? Seriously?!"

Seriously long.

I'm going to go sit and look forward to tomorrow.

Is this my child?

No offense meant here, but sometimes I wonder if God was momentarily confused when handing out DNA. You see, I think I got my sister's child. Sometimes I'm worried that my first born accidentally went to the wrong girl. Now, don't get me wrong, I'll take her. I wouldn't give her up (even to my sister) if my life depended on it, but I look at the stuff she does and it reminds me of growing up with my sister all over again.

What makes me think this?

Exhibit A:
She's obsessed with shoes (the sparklier the better), hair bows (the sparklier the better), dresses (the sparklier the better) and all things pink (yup, you guessed it, the sparklier the better.)

The following picture was taken this morning and can be seen most mornings on the floor of the kids bedroom. (My mother has some eerily similar photos from Sarah Ellen's bedroom years ago...)

Exhibit B:

In case you missed it the first time, please note the attention to detail. The beautiful necklace from Auntie Whitney and the watch from Christmas. For me, picking out an outfit means wondering if my jeans have been washed any time in the last week. And if they haven't been, scraping off dry crusties from the kids and putting them back on for "one" more day.

Exhibit C:

As different as we are, I am so blessed to call this little diva mine.

PS - Aunt Sarah Ellen, since she has your DNA, we'll be calling you for help in about 8 years. Get ready.

Easter

I love Easter.
I love the pastels and blooming flowers.

I love celebrating the greatest gift of all time.
I love that Jesus is risen.

And of course, as always, I love the challenge of trying to get a decent picture of my three children all dressed up.

Happy Easter!