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

Oh The Places He's Gone!

From the first picture we saw of The Dinosaur, almost two years ago,

we knew two things:

1.) We were in love.

and

2.) He was going to be a mover and a shaker.

We knew these things because the guest house told us in Ethiopia,

that he was adorable and he was the most active kid there.

They also told us they specifically prayed for The Dinosaur's family because

he was such a handful!

True DAT!

But standing in our driveway this morning,

I almost didn't recognize him.

His first day of pre-K!
Baby, you have come so far and I am so proud to be your mommy.

You are most definitely a handful, but you most certainly make a heart FULL.

That, and you have the best fro I've ever seen.

Being a working mom is stinky most days.

I feel like I run from task to task.

Dinner.

Soccer practice.

Homework.

Laundry.

Repeat.

But more and more often, I'm reminding myself that the laundry will always be there.

The house will never be clean enough.

They'll never remember what I made for dinner in a week.

And that this face won't be little for much longer:

Praying you stop and take in a small moment of your own today.

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?

Nothing Is Sacred

My transition to motherhood has not always been smooth.

Two toddlers as our first attempt at parenting is still laughable.

While doubling the laundry,

the noise,

the messes,

the food consumption

has all taken some adjustment for the Hero and I,

one thing has really been hard for me to grip:

My lack of privacy.

It's their complete disregard for boundaries.

If they are up, they expect The Hero & I to bounce right out of bed.

Even if it's Saturday.

Whether it's poking our sleeping bodies,

yelling from their beds,

or standing at the closed door to our room POUNDING!

Cooking dinner

better not include a quick taste test.

Without douling out tastes for everyone.

Even an innocent grape popped into my mouth

as we head out the door.

"Mommy, what you eating?"
"Mommy, I want one of those."

"Hey Mommy, you give [The Angel] dat?"

They don't care it's the only breakfast I've consumed.

If they are peacefully coloring,

molding play dough,

playing cars,

I may perform any mundane task.

But the moment I seize the moment

to read,

blog,

exhale on the couch,

or paint my toes,

all hell breaks loose.

Biblical proportions.

"Hey Mommy, what you doing?"

"Mommy, why you do dat?"

"Mommy, what's dat?"

"Dinosaur, stop talking, I'm talking to Mommy"

"Angel, STOOOOPPPPPP"

"Can you read this Mommy?"

"HEY Mommy..."

"Hey Mommy..."

"HEY MOMMMMMMYYYYY..."

Even the most private moments of my day are subject to interruption.

A trip to the restroom or shower must be

calculated,

always behind a locked door.

They are always having an even bigger emergency.

And nothing is sacred to them.

Not even the bathroom.

While I wouldn't take anything for them,

I'm considering a pair of ear plugs.

And a bigger lock on the bathroom door.

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.