This Mama's Boy

I wonder if all parents have ridiculous expectations of their children.

I know I did. 

Ok. 

Most days, I still do. 

Adopting The Angel and The Dinosaur was The Hero & I's first foray into the world of parenting.

I had amazing hopes and dreams.

Crayons, giggles, painting toe nails, family vacations, attachment with cuddles and perfect family pictures.

When we discovered from our referral that we would have not one child but two, I was elated. 

I secretly hoped our little boy would be a mama's boy.

I was devastated to learn that our son was anything but. 

Daddy was needed for everything. 

Sports, cutting his steak, tying his shoes, watching him do a number of jumps off our furniture. 

He only asked for one person.
 

Daddy.
 

It was like a cuss word to me in our house. 

Almost four years later, The Dinosaur is still Daddy obsessed.
 

Daddy is still requested for almost everything.
 

Except in the still of the morning when no one else is awake but he and I. 

When he grabs a blanket and asks to be cuddled just a little longer. 

When tired still grips him and he takes me by the hand to help him get dressed. 

Or when he wants to be swaddled after a bath and asks if I'll sit next to him.

Nights when he can't fall asleep and he asks for me to hold his hand until he closes his eyes.

These are the moments I treasure the most.
 

And although sometimes it does hurt that in public he defers to Daddy always,

I'll keep his little secret.
 

I heard the amazing Kristen Howerton lead a small breakout session at Idea Camp back in September and she discussed how attachment for adopted children is different that what we normally think it should look like for biological kids.
That attachment isn't always hugs and cuddles.

The relief I felt in that moment was three and a half years of guilt flowing out of me.
I fought back tears as she described the expectations we have for our adoptive children.
And WE want it to look/feel/be a certain way.
 

He and I's relationship is supposed to look different. 

Because it is different. 

I am still his mama. 

And he is still my son.

And THAT makes him this mama's boy.
 

Near Miss

I wrote this a few weeks back and wrestled with whether or not to post it because really, I cannot think about this event without checking my pulse.

I've believed in Jesus since I was seven years old. As our relationship has deepened throughout my life, I have had several moments where I had a physical awareness that I was not alone. Moments that made no logical, scientific sense. Where I knew that He, the Lord of Angel Armies was present and I felt him.
I had another one today.
With The Dinosaur and The Angel being out of school, they've traveled back and forth to the office with me a lot this Christmas break. I know that it has been really boring because while most people are able to take vacation time around this time of year, being a family lawyer means that the holidays are a consistent hotbed for litigation. I can almost never gather more than a few hours away from the office during this season.
It really isn't too rough on them. I represent a lot of kids in my practice and one whole office is a dedicated play room. But for my two, they are definitely the outdoorsy type. Being in an office all day tests all of our creativity and ability to expend energy. Especially for The Dinosaur. He lives for our walks outside or running to the car for lunch. His quick little legs can bolt at just the crack of a door.
Today was no different. There were several other kids in the office today and he was dying for some fresh air. I knew it was going to be an early lunch. He needed to get outside. I rounded The Angel and the coats and my purse and all the "mom garbage" I think that I need. I had wrangled The Angel to put her shoes on, her coat and we were headed out the door. I told her just to meet me at the car when she got her stuff together. The Dinosaur was three paces in front of me, holding the door knob to his freedom, begging me to hurry up. I really was trying. I let him open the door and just as I have every day for almost three years each time he heads out, I shouted "Do not cross the parking lot!" My office does not sit in a busy area. There are not many cars during any part of the day. But I remind him at least three times a day regardless.
The air in his face and the pavement under his feet must have overloaded his senses because he never heard me. I was less than ten paces behind him when the whole world slowed. I remember the following details with specificity and horror. It must have happened in three seconds, but time suspended and I recall it all.
Black mustang.
Speeding.
The back of The Dinosaur's head heading toward our car.
His perfect stride of one foot pounding in front of the other.
Never stopping.
My voice screaming his name.
Me dropping every thing in my hands and running.
Him turning and taking one step back toward my voice.
The driver missing him by inches.
We were both hysterical when I reached him.
He jumped in my arms and screamed and cried and I screamed and cried.
The Angel missed the whole thing. Thank you Jesus!
I did not need a near death encounter as a reminder to hug my children today, but I'll tell you I haven't let either one of them too far out of my reach today either.
- Hugs n Love,
Lindsey

The Thing About A Garden

The thing about having a garden is that it is a lot like having another child.

The waiting.

Trying to remember patience.

Dreaming of the future.

Being diligent about weed removal.

Hoping for the maximum amount of growth.

Studying diseases and organic home remedies.

And while all of that sounds like a lot of work.

Trust me, most days it is just work.

Watching each individual plant mature and produce,

is such an amazing joy.

We are learning more about how God developed our world.

And yet, we are also learning about how He develops our hearts.

No wonder there is so much scripture about seeds and harvests.

The Angel calls this the world's smallest jalapeno plant.

But if you look close, you can tell there are at least two,

 just waiting to mature.

What Started As A Packet.

I told you guys awhile back that The Hero had plowed an area of our back yard just for me. He put a fence around it and added the most adorable garden gate. I really only intended for this to have a bench, a few stepping stones, a small fountain and a couple of veggie plants. I wanted a place to  pray, meditate and simple praise God in the simplicity of my own version of a Mommy's time out locale.
And then we went to the hardware store.
The kids and I both were enraptured. Rows and rows of brightly colored packets of future tomatoes, beans, cucumbers, radishes and five different variations of lettuce. We stood for close to an hour pouring through the spacing, depth and sunlight requirements for each possible purchase. We decided to only take home a seed packet for tomatoes.
Now don't get me wrong, I like all of the by products that a good tomato sacrifices their lives for: marinara, ketchup and who could pass up, SALSA! But slice it off the vine and eat it, eh, I could do without. The Hero however; well I think he believes tomatoes are this generations version of manna. Add a little salt and  pepper and he'll eat tomatoes until he gets mouth sores.
$1.29, seedling pods and dreams of salsa every night for dinner later, we were home. The kids and I planted the packet of seeds, filled it with water, scoured the house for an appropriate sun-lit location and waited. Every day was just as exhilarating as the next. Wake up, rush down stairs and "oooh" and "aaahh" only to discover that nothing had happened the previous night.
Then came day 10.
The screams and leaps around the living room at the sight of a tiny seedling poking through the dirt was amazing.
Since we could no longer be declared total failures, we marched back the following weekend to purchase lettuce, carrots, spinach, cucumbers, bell peppers, jalapenos, banana peppers and broccoli.
The Hero was just elated that saying "hardware store" no longer meant groans and protests from all parties.
Almost two months later and we've added, basil, dill, rosemary, cilantro, onions, sweet potatoes, blueberries, raspberries and blackberries. 
Each night the kids and I walk through our growing slice of earth, pick weeds, check for new growth, stand amazed at how something so small can continue to keep growing. It's still so beautiful to me  knowing that a seed can produce a plant, which blooms into a fruit which can sustain our lives...and our souls. I've been able to not only speak but SHOW my kids God's love for us all through a process that occurs every spring. He has provided for us in so many ways and turned an entire planet into a way to meet our needs.
If there's every any doubt that there is a Creator who loves us, just go plant a seed.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

How do you tell a Dinosaur "Happy Birthday"?

How do you tell a Dinosaur "Happy Birthday"?

Two years of us together and I'm still not sure.

It's official now.

You've been with us as long as you were away from us.

That's milestones in the adoption world.

And yet, it seems as though I've known you my whole life.

Maybe you've always been there,

the wild spirit in my heart I could never really explain.

You roar when a whisper is necessary and you stomp when walking would get the job done.

There is nothing that scares you, except the neighborhood cat.

And in the middle of creating your own wake, you some times stop just

to tell me you love me.

I knew the first time we met in Ethiopia, that you were going to blaze through life.

I knew it was going to be hard, then beautiful, then hard again,

but in the end, I was going to give you everything you asked for in life and more.

You only had to say one word: Mommy.

So son, you blaze right through this world and burn your own path with your Dinosaur roar.

I will try to remember my patience and I'll bring along my good belly laughs,

because we're going to need them both.

I have no idea why God thought I was good enough to be your mommy.

There are so many days that I doubt Him.

But I love you with a passion that cannot die and a commitment that will never end.

I'm already your biggest fan and you've only just begun.

Four years old sounds so small, until I look at how tall you've already grown.

How do you say "Happy Birthday" to a Dinosaur?

You hold him if you can catch him.

You kiss his face if he'll let you.

And you cherish every moment.

Because one day, that Dino will be full grown.

And it's happening, right this minute.

Happy #4 Baby Boy.

 

Out of Coverage

This is the view from my front porch this morning.

Even though it's less than three weeks since Christmas,

a blah had settled over our house.

A holiday let down you might say.

Having my sister and bro-in-law in for the holidays was amazing,

but the kids adjusted hard to them leaving.

The Hero and I were unable to take much time off for the holidays,

and since we are trying out our new word: Intentional,

we packed it up and drove several hours outside the city.

To a cabin in the woods.

I've never been in this part of the world before.

And we are enjoying it immensely.

We are playing and praying about things to come,

how else we want to be intentional,

and the things that we want to accomplish this year.

So if you call us in the next few days,

your calls may not be returned.

We are outside of coverage.

Have you and yours made a plan to be intentional yet?

We'd love to hear it,

just as soon as we get back!

Christmas is Two Days Early This Year

On November 29th, 2009, my sister and her husband relocated to Phoenix

for a new adventure in their life.

On November 30th, 2009,

The Hero and I began a new adventure of our own:

Parenthood.

Laura had barely pulled in her new driveway when I called

to tell her about our referral.

It was the oddest moment of elation and devastation of my life.

While I couldn't wait to get the kids, Laura and I both wondered

how my kids would ever bond with someone who lived a 1000 miles away.

The next time I saw her, I was getting off the airplane in OKC

with two kids.

Jetlag, exhaustion, and acclimating to our life at home

would have been unbearable if she and Brian hadn't been there our first week.

They did the laundry, the grocery shopping, the rocking for nap-time,

while I tried to pull my head out of the whirlwind of the last two weeks.

Coming face to face with motherhood and abject poverty for the first time

took a toll on my heart and my brain.

At the end of that first week, The Angel knew she had a mother.

And an aunt.

Whom she adored.

Aunt LaLa was all she wanted for her first birthday home.

Our first Christmas was amazing.
There were lots of smiles.

LOTS of laughs.
(I think he looks like the seamstress from The Incredibles :)

Too many gifts that neither of the kids remember a year later.
And while every one was amazing and made their first Christmas perfect,
it was definitely noted that there were two presents missing.
We skyped the entire Christmas morning, letting LaLa and Papa Chu
watch each gift being opened,
each toy being played with and
watching The Dinosaur terrorize us all with his dump truck.
At the end of the day, Laura sent me a message,
telling me that 2010 would be last Christmas my kids were small
that she wouldn't be sitting in my living room.
I told her I was going to hold her to that,
but wouldn't tell the kids.
So as we made our lists this year for what they wanted to unwrap,
The Angel again requested her favorite thing:
LaLa.
and maybe, just maybe if he was good,
she'd let Papa Chu come along.


So for Christmas 2011,
THEY ARE COMING HOME!!!!
I waited for as long as I could to tell the kids.
About two minutes after I knew.

So while they won't care about presents.
And some fat man squeezing in our fireplace doesn' t mean anything.
Santa and his entire magical entourage could carry
Laura and Brian's bags from the airport,
and The Angel and The Dinosaur wouldn't notice.
Because:
There will be popcorn,
dancing,
cheering,
celebrating,
and probably costumes

there will be giggles,
laughter,
playing ball in the house
and breaking all of Mommy's rules.

There will be late nights,
pillow fights,
sleeping in late
and cereal for dinner.

The Angel is beside herself.
She is so excited that she has turned her
paper-chain, Advent calendar from school into a
"Countdown to Aunt Laura coming".
But I haven't told her they will be here on the 23rd.
I want to see the look on her face:

Christmas comes two days early this year.

Older Child Adoption: For Me

The Hero and I were kidless when we brought home The Angel and The Dinosaur.

Our agency made us watch a lot of videos about parenting.

We had a lot of conversations with experts, adoptive parents and our family about "older" kids.

In the adoption community, "older" is defined as older than three years.

We had even more discussions about adopting two kids at a time.

The literature says that adopting a sibling set is extremely challenging.

They were right.

Many people tried to deter us from the boxes marked "older" and "sibling".

The adoption community has had some terrible stories.

And I felt at times we only heard the terrible.

We were told that our children would have to be with us as much time as we were apart to

properly attach to us.

While this is a great guidepost to follow,

it was not our story.

I believed that from the beginning of time God hand picked me to mother

The Angel and The Dinosaur.

There are days, I question His sanity.

I don't feel worthy to parent them at all.

I can truly tell you that The Angel is number 1 in the biggest heroes in my life.

Her story is tragic.

But she'll never tell you.

She's too busy smiling and breathing in life one inhale and exhale at a time.

It's why I think she's beautiful.

Not just her bouncy curls,

killer smile or curvy frame.

It's the way her driving spirit wakes her up every day.

Praying for a bigger house so that God will give us more kids.

Begging me to have a garage sale so the $ from her lemonade stand can "feed some kids".

Telling me that I'm better than coffee. (it's own blog post.)

And making us all laugh hysterically.

She will take on anything and will be ready for whatever plunge our family makes.

As long as we make it together.

(that's really she and I, holding hands and laughing our heads off.)

While I never question any one's choice of age when they are adopting.
It truly is an issue of your family's directive and spending ample time in prayer.
But all I can tell you about my "older" child,
Is that she is for me.
And while there is so much of her life that I missed,
I know He is glorified in it all.

Angel, you have the spirit of an eagle and the fight of a tiger.
Watching over you on this earth is an honor and I do not take it lightly.
Thank you Jesus for her Daddy and I are grateful~we are just not deserving.
But I am so glad that she's for me.

Have I Told You Today

When I was a kid, my dad traveled all the time.

It was not uncommon for him to leave on Sunday night until Friday afternoon.

When he was with us,

he was always giving us a hard time.

His favorite thing to ask me was

"Have I told you today that I love you?"

I always got so sick of hearing that,

but like with most parental issues,

you always end up sounding like your parents,

so it was no surprise that a few months after The Angel and The Dinosaur were home,

I channeled Dad and started asking

"Have I told you today that I love you?

The Angel now makes it a game.

She is always asking me and

then bursting into laughter as she tells me

"well, I do; give me a kiss."

My baby sister came home this weekend and we had a great visit.

The Angel always takes Aunt LaLa leaving really hard,

so tonight she and I sat at the kitchen table and had a good cry.

The Dinosaur's world was completely displaced

with his two favorite women were crying.

He had no idea what to do with himself.

I had my head buried in my hands when his little fist was punching my arm.

"Hey Mommy?"

" Yeah buddy."

" Have I told you today that I luf you?"

While I really wanted to continue crying, I couldn't keep from laughing.

What The...?

Has it really been 16 months we've been together?

Days it seems like we just met,

but more and more it feels like this

Instead of like this:

And our baby,




Isn't much of a baby anymore.

Thank you Lord for reminders.

Of where we were.

of where we are.

and where we have yet to go.

Me? Or Three?

Becoming a mom overnight to two toddlers was hard.

Since neither The Hero or I had never parented before,

there was/is/always stuff we don't know.

And parenting two adopted children has its additional set of questions.

But the one we are asking ourselves lately is

Is it me?

Or because he's three?

The Dinosaur has his nickname because well,

he's a Dinosaur.

A cute dinosaur,

but a dinosaur all the same.

Two was adorable, challenging because of

attachment issues, but we've come to the other side of those I believe.

We are outside of the terrible 2s and fledgling in the

horrible 3s.

Maybe I was drinking or fell and hit my head when I was reading all those parenting books

and getting advice from all my mommy friends.

But I really thought that they were called the terrible 2s because

there was an ending date.

The Dinosaur would blow out his 3rd birthday candle

and there would be a respite.

Ha!Ha!

I almost fell off my chair laughing.

The Dino better at three?

Right.

So mommy may look like this for awhile:

Until The Dinosaur looks like this again:


Come on parents, fess up,
what was your most challenging parenting age?

My Favorite Day Ever

Saturday, The Angel turned Seven.

I wonder how old she is in Angel years?

Since I don't know what a biological child experience is like,

all I have to go on is the here and now with The Angel and The Dinosaur.

There are days that I stare at her face and I wonder if she

even knows the depth of how much I admire her.

For her strength,

her laugh,

her outlook on everything,

and her ability to grieve for what she's lost

and still enjoy the present.

I am honored to share a house,

a life,

a love

with such a fighter.

I despise kid's birthday parties.

The planning,

the expense,

the expectation of outdoing the other moms on the block.

The unnecessary buying of gifts that you know will be returned

or never played with more than once.

Please hear me:

I LOVE BIRTHDAYS.

The cake.

The ice cream.

The singing.

The celebration of one's life.

An entire day about being selfish.

I want to teach my kids how to celebrate,

without the gluttony of entitlement and stuff.

We talked to The Angel a lot about what she wanted.

She only had three requests.

Dinner, with her entire family.

A new bike.

And everyone singing happy birthday

Loud.

Just for her.

We gathered everyone together.

The Hero and I bought her a new bike.

I covered our house in balloons

and pink and yellow streamers.

She got a new "sparkly" tank top

and new shorts.

We all sang Happy Birthday.

Twice.

Just for good measure.

We ordered her favorite cupcakes.

And made her favorite dinner.

And the grandparents overdid it with gifts.

Again.

The Hero built a bonfire.

We made smores in the backyard,

sat around the fire

and relished in the glow of her face.

As she "snuggied" in my lap

and I stroked her hair,

She smiled and told me

"Mommy, I didn't have a birthday in Africa."

"I know sweet heart."

"But mommy, it's ok. Because today is my favorite day ever."

"It is?"

"No. I guess not. Every day is my favorite day ever."

Dear Angel,

Thank you for being a daily reminder

of strength,

beauty,

love

and opening my eyes to the fact

that each day

should be my favorite day ever.

And as long as you are a part of it,

it will be.

Going All In

My last post detailed a hard weekend of parenting.

It wasn't easy to write.

I don't like admitting my faults.

I'm not sure that anyone does.

It's completely against human nature

and especially against American thought to say

"Hey, let me tell you all about the ways that I screw up on a daily basis."

But the more I reflected on all my parenting fails last weekend,

I realized that almost every aspect of parenting is hard.

It's supposed to be.

A continuous dance of move and sway

and locking eyes with your dance partner.

And learning how they respond to the music.

With you.

Doubling our family count with two toddlers was no cake walk.

And learning to parent in your thirties for the first time was like treating a red hot sun burn after a day at the beach;

it needed a lot of TLC.

But while I cannot say I desire the hard days;

I'm learning to take them at face value;

a moment to embrace a chance to learn,

do better

and stop looking for something easy.

If it were easy, I wouldn't care what kind of personalities my kids developed,

would let them juggle knives while standing on our kitchen table

and would disregard all sanitation rules

(ok, maybe not all).

I believe that the biggest challenge to being a parent is

choosing to parent

and choosing it for a lifetime,

especially when it's hard.

So Dinosaur and Princess,

be warned.

You have no passive mama.

She's a warrior.

And she's learning.

Just like you.

She will not give up on you.

She refuses to stop learning from you,

teaching you,

dancing with you,

and guiding your steps as much as she can.

She's in it for the hard days;

the crazy days,

the laughs,

the tears,

the breezy,

the hard.

It will not always be easy,

in fact, she'll bet on it.

but she's crazy about you.

And she's all in.

Forever.

Hard

This weekend was hard.

All of it.

Every breath was ragged.

The rain only amplified our frustrations with ourselves and one another.

Every action I took was a Mommy Fail.

I began the weekend in tears and cried until I laughed.

Most of the time, all you see and hear about is their smiling faces.

You're not silly enough to believe that's all there is to them,

to us,

to me.

This weekend was a reminder of how human I am and how very much I have to go.

To be in control means to understand the outcome;

and friends, I am NOT in control of anything.

As I battled The Dinosaur's temper

and my own insecurities.

The sharp sword of my tongue guarded my heart.

After round after round of being on my toes,

deflecting the stinging wounds of his words,

and fighting back the tears.

I wanted to give in.

Throw in my sword and run away from home.

And in the way only He can, His spirit whispered

"because they fight you like you fight against me.

Stop battling.

Listen.

I love you.

I care what happens to you

and what kind of person you become."

The realization cut me close to the heart.

I'm not done growing.

I may never be.

Stop battling.

Listen.

Wow! That's good stuff.

Why didn't He whisper that on Saturday morning, instead of Sunday night?

Maybe He did.

I was too busy battling.

As we finished up our nightly routine,

The Dinosaur finished his bath

and The Hero brought him to get clothes.

He snuggled in his towel and whispered

"Mommy, I'm cold."

I wrapped him in a blanket and asked if he was ready for jammies.

"No Mommy. Rock me."

I choked.

In 13 months, he's never asked.

I rocked.

Our love depended on it.

Fifteen minutes and he was asleep.

Peacefully snoring on my chest.

Our arms were both too full of love.

We couldn't even have held a sword.

Our hands were too busy holding all the love.

The dinosaur turns 3 in a few weeks. For weeks, we have been debating about how to celebrate. Talking to him about it does no good. He does understand parties or presents or having everyone together to eat cake just for him. Oh, he definitely loves parties and presents and cake, but Christmas was confusing and awkward for him and The Angel. One of the things about adopting older children who have been institutionalized is their inability to have learned play. During Christmas with everyone we knew giving them gifts, they didn't really understand after the wrapping-ripping was done, what they were supposed to do with the toy or the clothes inside.


He the attention span the length of a burp and while he gets excited when he sees:

a RAH... as he calls them.

THOMAS!

or Buzz

He simply has no concept of how to play with either toys or interact with a game that either other kids are playing or his sister is telling him how to play. So there will be candles and cake, that's really all we know for sure.

We've been working on helping them develop their own play with not only one another but other kids. But when we are at home not matter what we are doing, they would rather be right next to us, helping with laundry, mopping the floor or doing dishes. And while a huge part of me prays these attitudes continue through their teenage years, I do want them both to develop a sense of imagination and play.

A few weeks ago, hubby and I were working on some paperwork and we thought it a good time to mandate that the kids play in their room for 20 minutes without coming out. We left their door open which can be seen from our kitchen table. About two minutes after putting them in their room and bringing out play dough and shape cutters and explaining that they could make whatever they want and just play together, the Hero and I made it back to the table to look up and see something that looked like this from their room:
Both of them were sitting on their bottoms, legs crossed and staring at us in the doorway of their room. So needless to say, The Dino's bday needs to have lots of kids and cake involved. And probably no play dough.