I Don't Want to Grow Up: I'm a Toys * Us Mom

Sometimes being an adult is so lame. I can vividly recall desperately wanting to be a "grown up" when I was younger. Now I look back on that time so fondly. Someone else made money for me, bought and cooked my meals, washed my clothes, paid for utilities, gas, cable, and even paid my taxes! They even paid me just for being me. What a life!

I'm pretty sure if I called my mom and dad up today and begged them to buy me a pizza, they would try. But the lamest part of being an adult is that I would never do that.

Because I am an adult.

Appa turned 29 recently. This is unconcerning for both of us. (In case you were wondering, "unconcerning" is not a word. "Unconcerned, unconcernedly, and unconcernedness" are all words though. You're welcome.) We've not yet began to feel that horror most people feel when they leave their 20's in the dust. In fact, our feelings are almost the opposite.

We're almost 30!?! Us? Seriously?

Appa and I have been together since I was 16. We've grown together and that has been great, but it almost makes it very easy to forget how far we have come (and how many years that took us). We're still cracking the same inside jokes from 1997.

Me, specifically, I often forget that I am an adult. Not just a young adult who is trying to be a totally-with-it independent woman, but an actual adult with a husband, a mortgage, two cars, a kid, a whole bunch of legal papers for another kid, a living will, coworkers who are younger than my siblings, and parents who live 5 states away.

No more someone else washing my clothes for me. (Actually, Appa does a lot of the laundry in our house.)

Yet, I am as nostalgic as they come and I think I am a pretty fun loving, young-at-heart sort of adult. I love things that remind me of my childhood.

Which is why I have my two favorite Care Bears (who in my young mind were dating) and a Mickey Mouse globe I got on a girl's trip to Disney World with my BFF sitting prominently in front of my computer.

At work.

They make being an adult a little less lame.

Fall

Fall.

I've only recently in the last few years come to truly appreciate Fall. I've always been lucky enough to live in areas where Fall is a real season with crisp air, deep shaded leaves, and that special moment before it gets dark where you can almost feel the season changing little by little. In the last few years I have taken the time to enjoy this unique period of the year.

A couple nights ago I was outside getting something from our car and took a couple minutes to stand out in our driveway. It was twilight and the first of the leaves on our neighbor's tree were turning. There was this electricity in the air (probably from the electrical storm we had later that night), and the whole atmosphere felt very alive. I just stood there and took it all in.

I was thinking about that moment this morning as I noticed even more leaves turning on my way to work. I started thinking back to last Fall.

Last Fall I did not take the time to stop and smell the leaves.

I worry that I might write too much on this blog about my experience with post adoption depression, but I think it is important for me to share feelings as they come out; both to help others who might be experiencing this very under-supported experience and just to help me work through what lingers of my own. Understand that all things considered, I have a charmed life, and I totally know it.

Last Fall Little Bug had been home for around a monthish. Things were rough in my world, but only those very closest to Appa and I really had any indication of that, mainly because I tried desperately to hide it, even from myself and him. I'm not sure at the time that I even knew what I was feeling. I was overwhelmed with the total loss of independence I was experiencing, the complete 24/7 independence Little Bug had on me, my feelings of inadequacy, Little Bug's special needs that I felt completely unprepared for, consuming guilt over my feelings, and lack of sleep and good eating.

I am convinced that lack of sleep makes everything worse. Just an aside.

Anyway, I honestly can't remember Fall last year. I remember experiences with Little Bug, but I don't recall what the leaves looked like, or what the air smelled like, or how I felt about it all. There were no seasons for me at the end of last year. My life was lived in a very weird haze of shellshock, depression, avoidance, self loathing, and spurts of joy. (This haze sadly clouded what should have been the Christmas season of my dreams, too.)

Blah. I'm not loving thinking about it today, but the point of this post is that I realized this morning as I was marveling over the start of the Fall season that I am back and better than ever!

There is a light at the end of the depression tunnel. For some people it might be just a week or a few days away. For some, it might be months. For me, it was many months and a hard fought battle, but there is light at the end of the tunnel.

How can there not be? Being a parent is hard and the ultimate sacrifice is so many ways, and yet, at the end of the day, your child inherently makes it worth it. You just have to be in the right frame of mind to see it.

Case in point: Yesterday Little Bug and I were leaving a store and he was riding in the shopping cart in the parking lot. the wind was pretty strong and had that autumn bite to it. Little Bug gasped the first time he felt it, and then started pumping his legs wildly and throwing his head around, mouth wide open, trying to catch the air in his mouth, his hands clapping almost unconsciously.

That is my new favorite memory of Fall.

A Well Dressed Sin Son

They say vanity is a sin, but does it count if the vanity is not for yourself?

I have an admitted problem with clothing. Not for myself. Nope, I have no problem wearing the Target-brand special to work or a suit I have had for years. (Don't get me wrong, my favorite clothing store is decidedly NOT Target, but it's too expensive for me to enjoy more than once a year, and I made peace with that long ago.)

No, my problem is Little Bug clothes. Before I was a mom, I spouted off all sorts of stuff about how I was more than willing to take hand-me downs, that my child would wear whatever was clean, and that I understood that he was a baby and not a magazine model. All valid things.

Then I took a look at the baby boy clothing options. Umm, have you seen what is out there lately!?!

The majority of boy clothing is in pastels (which remind me of a 80's-era newborn), cartoons (I am trying not to commercialize our child in every way possible), stupid sayings like "Chicks Dig Poop" or "Daddy's Lil Tough Guy" (which are just stupid because these are babies, not contestant on VH1's Tool Academy), or the obligatory cartoonish/cuteish bear/truck/car/monster/dinosaur/airplane etc. (which I find really boring and very cheesy). And sweatpants. I HATE sweatpants. What's a Little Boy Mama to do?

I think most Mamas suck it up and try to find a balance. Me, I surprised even myself with my refusal to do that. I think deep down I felt like I had waited SO long for my baby, gosh darn it, I was going to enjoy dressing him.

So, if I don't like it, my kid doesn't wear it. I'm serious. Gift or no gift, hand-me down or no hand-me down, on super clearance or not on super clearance, if I don't like it, my kid isn't wearing it.

Now, this approach has not come without its share of problems. First, the bank account doesn't love the fact that I will seek out new clothes (bonus of adopting Little Bro: already has a total wardrobe, so I like to think of these clothes as an investment; Appa does not share this view). I've had exceptional success in the Target clearance racks where a lot of the neat retro shirts and polos and basics end up on clearance. It takes a bit of digging, and often buying whatever larger size they have, but I've got a lot of nice clothes to last me for the next few years at $1-$3. In fact, the majority of clothes he is wearing now at 2T were purchased last year. Go me!

In addition, I have a reputation in my family of being that mom who you never buy baby clothes for because the gift will go to waste if I don't like it. My poor mother in law recently had to call Appa to see if I would be willing to let Little Bug wear a Hawaiian shirt she wanted to bring back from Hawaii (I was totally mortified when Appa actually had to ask me because he wasn't sure if I would say yes and even more mortified when I actually had to think about it for a second). I'm not proud of this and attempted to hide it from my family for a while, but the word is out. It's getting easier as Little Bug (who in actuality is a VERY BIG bug for his age) is growing into toddler sizes where there is slightly less vomitious selections to choose from. You can never go wrong with a polo (unless it is in pastels, or has a cartoon on the bottom left, or….). I'm not saying I don’t like monsters or cars or trucks or things like that. Little Bug is getting to the age where he can start to identify things on his body (his attempts to put on his shoes and socks [ggnnness and ooaags] are priceless), but I have a very definite style for the graphics, which makes it nearly impossible for anyone to accurately pin me down.

I'm so not proud of this, but honestly, I don't see it stopping any time soon. I love dressing my son; I love taking pictures of him wearing cute things; and I love people telling me how well dressed he is. I'm a pretty good mom, so I am allowing myself this indulgence.

So, I guess the moral of the story is to buy Little Bug a book if you are looking for a present for him. And yes, I am pretty sure vanity is still a sin. I'm working on it…sort of.

Ahh, what the heck

Life is too short, and kids are too special to split hairs. I went out on my lunch break and bought it.

I'm gonna be Little Bro's Mama.....someday!

Until then, I will hide this away (literally, I am going to hide this from Appa), and take it out when I need to spend a special moment thinking about my youngest son.

A little spotted blanket with an elephant and a bird

Apparently I should never utter or write the words "ovaries are screaming" ever again.

Babies, specifically my future baby Little Bro, have been on the brain for the last few days. It's probably because people all around me are pregnant or waiting for a referral or waiting to travel, traveling etc. Refreshingly, unlike previous boughts of "Baby Brain," this one does not come with the intense urge to lock myself in my bedroom and cry my freaking eyes out while watching Jennifer Garner's character in "Juno." Instead, it's a truly all-around exciting time that I can’t help but get caught up in.

I think only mothers who have been in the adoption process can understand when I say I feel "pregnant" already. In my head, we are expecting a baby, and my mind is preparing as such. I don't often use that term, "paper pregnant" or whatever else, but the feelings behind theses phrases are very real.

So, tonight I went to Target, as I do 3-4 times a week. I can never help but go to the baby aisles to check out what new styling clothes I need for Little Bug. I always end up taking the route that takes me past the infant receiving aisle, you know that one, the one with soft blankets and onsies and gift packages that say "Our Newest Miracle" or "Hello World, I Have Arrived." There is one particular blanket that I take off the shelf every time and hold. It's the softest, cutest thing I have ever seen; and I desperately want it for Little Bro. There was only one left, and a quick Google search tells me that it's not something I will be able to readily find later.

However, I have plenty of soft blankets that are sitting unused. I apparently have a fondness for these sorts of things, because I HAD to have a number of specific ones for Little Bug, most of which he could care less about. The blanket that called to me hardcore last time was one that I couldn't convince myself to buy, so Little Bug's godmother bought it for him, and it traveled to Korea with us. Little Bug was unimpressed. Yet, the compulsion as I was holding that little blanket to buy it for Little Bro--buy SOMETHING special and specific for Little Bro to prove to myself that yes, he WILL one day be in my arms--was so strong that I had to war with myself for a solid minute before putting it back.

It just isn't time for that yet.

WooEEE. I've been so laid back about our second adoption, and for some reason it is starting to bubble up again…that adoption fervor. I'm trying valiantly to gently push it back down for the time being. I have a lot of things I need to happen before Little Bro comes around (Little Bug walking, seeing some of my friends welcome their babies home, seeing my BFF pop out Baby V, etc.) Maybe once those things happen I will allow myself to start working back into "Paper Pregnancy" mode. And honestly, the thought of having two babies right now scares the living crap out of me. It helps when I remind myself of that.

As for that little blanket, the plan for now is not to buy it, but as it is the LAST one, and as it is really just SO cute, I can't guarantee it won't be in my cart if I see it again.

My Boys

Appa is the youngest of three kids. He has had relatively little experience with small children (before his own, of course). Appa didn't dislike kids...he just didn't really care about them one way or the other.

Me? Well, my hypothetical ovaries (because my real ones don't really play nice) were screaming "baby, baby, baby" since I pretty much was old enough to spell ovaries.

Anyway. Appa is a gentle, calm, and fair man, so I knew he would make a good father, but I often wondered if he would enjoy being a dad. Even after we got our referral, he was always so even about his excitement. I sometimes worried that maybe he would be one of those distant fathers who doles out punishments and considers teach a child to play a sport competitively quality time.

The came the first hours after we took custody of Little Bug....and Appa started HOGGING him. He couldn't keep his eyes and hands off him. He was using the word "son" constantly just because I think he liked the way it sounded. We spent the 13 hour flight home fighting over who got to change Little Bug's diaper and hold him as our arms fell asleep.

That has never changed. Appa and Little Bug have had a strong connection from that first moment. Appa is distraught if he can't see Little Bug before he goes to bed and tells him that he loves him about as much as a couple of teen sweethearts would.

Appa is in love. Little Bug is in love.

And I'm in love with them both.

One of the only things that comes close to the joy I feel when I see Little Bug's face light up in a smile is when that smile is being matched by my husband.

Baby Bumper Blues (say that 3 times fast)

Oh, sob--my baby is growing up.

Long before Little Bug was even a picture in a frame, I had picked out my perfect baby bedding. It was the one and only baby item I purchased pre-referral. It's colorful, multi-textured, bright, educational, and stinking cute. I love it.

Little Bug loved it from the first moment he touched it (picture above). Even today, we often find him easing into his mornings by cooing and petting his crib bumpers.

Most people take the crib bumpers out before their kids turn one, but since Little Bug wasn't mobile for so long, we never had to worry about it. However, in the last few days Little Bug has started trying to climb into his crib. He's nowhere near able to yet, but the intent is there. It's just a matter of time before he makes the connection that he can use this trick to get out.

So today when I was changing his crib sheet I made the spur of the moment decision to leave the bumpers out of the crib. Little Bug hasn't seemed to notice much, but I was pretty sad because it just is one more way that I am seeing my baby is a big boy now.

And the bumper is just so cute. I will miss it until it's time for Little Bro.

The Unintended Road, Part II

Well, not really, but that title just sort of stuck with me.

First, thanks for the comments on the last few posts. After I posted my little missive, I was a little overwrought with whether or not I had been too truthful, or whether I had accurately conveyed that while I was feeling the things I was feeling, I truly AM happy exactly where I am (which, at this moment, happens to be listening to Classical Baby and the background sounds of Appa and Little Bug snoring away in a much fought for nap).

However, I've also been thinking a lot more since that post, and I've come up with a lot of other parts of my life that have changed in the last year....unintended changes, if you will. All of them are positive too, which is nice.

Today I am moved to write about one. Little Bro.

I've probably not mentioned Little Bro before because he currently lives in my heart and perhaps is starting to live in his birthmother's womb, although I cannot be sure about that (see previous post about no longer placing dates on things outside my control).

One year ago, Appa and I had a plan. This plan included loving on Little Bug like there was no tomorrow and putting in our application for our next adoption as soon as we could (which was 6 month ago, today, hence why it's on my mind).

Only one year ago, Little Bro was Little Sis.

I'm dead serious when I say that I need to be the mother to a daughter. It's this huge, not-so-secret wish of mine. I need to be knee deep in ribbons and lace and sugar and spice and everything nice. So, it was a given that our next adoption would be requesting a girl.

Then that pesky "gut feeling" of mine started rearing its gutty-head. (I say gut, but I'm also well aware that it is something much more divine than that...it's just hard for me to really know what that is right now.) I would dream of two little BOYS playing together. Constantly. I had trouble imagining Little Bug with Little Sis, and I would get a bad feeling whenever I would tell myself to "shake this off."

Oh man, I was PISSED.

I want a girl soooo badly, and yet, we had always thought we would adopt three kids, two boys and a girl....just not in that order.

Or apparently, exactly in that order. Finally, I mentioned to Appa that I had been feeling that perhaps--I couldn't believe I was going to say it--we should apply for another boy instead of a girl, which he was fine with. Still, I struggled with this dream I didn't want to let go of at that moment.

Yet, when the time came to put in our application and we checked "either" (which in our agency's lingo = boy), I cried tears of joy. It felt right. This unintended road we were embarking on was exactly the right road for us.

So, 6 months later, and I am thinking of my second son and excited to see him someday. I fantasize about my two little boys playing together and of being that mama with two boys. Heck, I am still clueless about raising one boy, but I am thrilled to see what it's like to raise two. Truly, I am tickled blue about it.

And Little Sis? Oh, she is still here, wrapped in soft pink wishes in my heart. I know I'll see her someday, somewhere, somehow.

And if I don't? It will be because that pesky gut told me no. If that is the case, I will respect that....and then go play with some trucks.

Every day Should be Family Day

This morning I was purposely late for work because I wanted to have a few moments of cuddle time with my Little Bug on his Family Day and give him his gift from Korea.

My heart literally wants to jump out of my body when I think too hard about how much I love him. I want to sing it from the hilltops (or at least proclaim it on every social networking avenue I have and tell everyone I meet). Some days are hard, but man, some days are EASY, and today is one of those days.

I think my elation is from the fact that I am really taking the time to think about Little Bug and how blessed we are to have him and how much I love him. It's not that date, but the meaning that gives me such a Mama High.

I'm going to strive to make a little bit of every day a Family Day.

The Unintended Road

Just because this isn't where I thought I would be 1 year ago, doesn't mean that it's not exactly where I am supposed to be.

I debated writing this, but it has been rattling (pounding) around in my head and the point of this blog was for me to be more honest with my emotions, even when I don't like them. Lately a few more people I know in non-anonymous blog and real life have found this blog (which I am more than happy about), but I wondered if I should hold back a touch since this isn't something I would put on my family blog or chat up over a cup of coffee. But my friend Elizabeth recently reminded me that it's healthy to be honest about your emotions, both good and bad, and your honestly will help others and help yourself. So here I go.

Tomorrow (or in a couple hours from now depending on how you look at it time-wise), I will have had Little Bug in my arms for 1 year. It's been the best year of my life in every way that truly counts.

But it has also been a very hard year.

We have been celebrating our family's journey all week and tomorrow will culminate with a small party and the beginning of some cool traditions. I've been looking forward to this for a long time (a year?). I've dreamed about how this celebration would go and where we would be 1-Year-Later.

Honestly, it wasn't exactly here.

Close, for sure. I dreamed of a fully adjusted child and parents who loved to be with each other. Check please, and if that was all I could ever have, I would be happy with just that. Look, I'm so happy I could burst that Little Bug has been home for a year and that we have hit this milestone that for some reason seems so important to me, but the fact of the matter is that I never imagined that we would hit this milestone without hitting other milestones first.

Walking, talking, not drooling, good balance, playing age-appropriately….these are all things that I convinced myself would be distance memories a year later. And well, they are not. In fact, these last few weeks have been exceptionally frustrating. Little Bug's braces, which were "supposed" to help him walk sooner, have in fact caused more harm than good. New braces have an eta of 3 months….3 MONTHS. Little Bug is making good, if slow, progress with other areas, which I am thrilled with, but he still has a long way to go. Carrying around a heavy almost 2-year-old EVERYWHERE is not an easy task day in and day out. Today I spent 30 minutes ordering a neoprene body suit complete with straps to tighten appendages that my little baby will have to wear all the time. A body suit on a baby. It's par for the course in my life now, and that is okay. Little Bug rocks all sorts of awesome therapy vests and braces and still looks like a million cute bucks.

But in some fleeting moments, I can't help by acknowledge that it is a slightly bitter pill to swallow. I'm thankful that my struggles with infertility (all those Christmas morning where I swore I would have a baby to shower with gifts the next year, only to wake up the next year's Christmas morning with that hurt fresh in my heart) have taught me that thinking that I am "owed" something or that I can put a date or expectation on something outside of my control is just setting myself up for being disappointed (this has helped with our next adoption, too, as an added bonus). I couldn't help but put dates and labels on Little Bug's development when he first came home and I was struggling to make sense of our new reality, but I refuse to now. Little Bug will develop at his own pace…and I love him all the more for it.

I'm not trying to throw a pity party or looking for sympathy, because I have the most awesome child on the face of the planet, and he is healthy and happy, but this anniversary has brought back some dark moments of desperate promises and expectations I had no right to make to myself. It doesn't mean I don't love my son or that I am not proud of his significant progress, but I just had to get off my chest this slight tingle of grief that the road we have walked this last year and will continue to walk was not the road we had intended.

The positive of this post is that if 1 year ago I was able to fast forward to this moment and see us as we are today, I wouldn't change a single thing.

Well, I might bring some more snacks, but I would still take Appa and Little Bug's hands and walk (or scoot/crawl/cruise) this exact same road. Each step we take is one more step we were meant to take, and that helps me in these moments when I feel down.

I didn't want to post this tomorrow, because tomorrow is a day of pure joy. I'm being kind and allowing myself this little moment of honesty because tomorrow I am going to PAR-TY it up with some balloons, a sweet Family Day cupcake cake, and my rocking awesome boys.

Target Tantrum

Dear rich and snobby mother at my local rich and snobby Target,

Your little 2-year-old daughter was very cute with her little hair bow and purse and dress. Super, super cute. It was sweet and precious when she clutched the toy you were buying her to her chest as you went through the check out line in front of me. It was amusing when she refused to part with it, even for a moment for the man to scan it.

Less cute, but I commiserated with you when she started to say "no" more vehemently and fuss a bit when you tried to get the toy from her--I mean, I have a kid, I get that kids sometimes fuss and there is nothing you can do about it.

Only clearly, you NEVER do anything about it.

Letting your child start screaming and yelling and crying HUGE real tears because you are trying to take a toy from her to check out (especially when there is a line of people behind you) for 2 whole minutes while simply cooing "We just won't buy it if you won't give it to me" and not even attempting to physically take it from her is not cute.

In fact, I'm going to go there....it's bad parenting.

Your little baby girl just schooled you good. You might have finally managed to twist the shopping cart so that the man could use the back up gun to scan the toy in your daughter's arms, but the fact that she continued to cry really hard and scream for 2 more minutes while glaring at you for DARING to attempt to even reposition her arms showed everyone in line who runs your house.

Now, I'm not a perfect mom by any stretch of the imagination, but here are a couple tips I would like to share

1. If your child won't give you something you need, take it from them. I promise, you are stronger than your baby.
2. If you have to say more than 5 times that you are not going to buy something, how about following through on that threat and not buying it.
3. If you hold up a line of people because your prissy-pants daughter is throwing her weight around and reminding you who is boss, have the decency to look those other people in the eye and at least fake some sort of apology. Personally, no, your Coach bag and Juicy sweats and Black Amex (yes, we all saw you pull it out and flourish it around) didn't make me think you deserved to be wasting my time.

Sincerely,
A mama who will strive just a little bit harder now not to end up like you.

Adoptivus

This is an incredibly emotional week for me. I'm at work, having just got back from a business trip, and I am constantly near tears (and no, it's not a biological thing). I am just overwhelmed with an anniversary I am coining Adoptivus, and it's emotionally killing me with joy.

Adoptivus: Celebrated in the tiny kingdom of EM, Adoptivus is celebrated between September 13 and September 19, with festivities culminating on September 18. Adoptivus is the anniversary of Appa, Everyday Mama, and Little Bug's adoption journey to Korea and joining as a family. It begins with Sept. 13, the day Appa and Everyday Mama flew to Korea, peaks on Sept. 16 when they first met Little Bug and his foster mother, culminates on Sept. 18 when Little Bug joined their family physically, and ends on Sept. 19 with their arrival home to the United States. Celebrated each year by watching videos, rereading blog posts, and having a party family day.

Anyway, I adore celebrating anniversaries and rarely don't. This is our first year with Little Bug, so I'm experiencing all these memory emotions for the first time, and I am surprised by the overwhelming emotions that have been pouring out. I keep looking at the clock and thinking "where was I one year ago? "Oh yes, I was exploring the secret gardens of a palace" or "I was buying such and such at Insadong…" I keep telling people all about this, and I KNOW they are getting sick of hearing about my 1-year anniversary of getting to the hotel or eating my first mandu or seeing my first Buddhist temple.

It doesn't help that someone I know is in Korea right now walking almost identical steps to my own down to the hour. It's almost too much for me to read this week.

So, right this moment, a year ago exactly (considering the time difference), I was laying in bed at 1 am tossing and turning and trying to sleep in anticipation of meeting Little Bug for the first time. Appa was tossing and turning with me, and we both eventually got up and talked ourselves into a sleeping stupor. My gut was knotted and I kept having to remind myself that it was with excitement and not with stress or nerves.

In 9 hours from this moment, I will have known my son for 1 year….and writing that just brought the tears back.

Happy Adoptivus to us.

Don't Mess With Mama

I'm sitting in a great hotel room in Don't-Mess-With-Me-Texas right now.

Appa and Little Bug are not.

This is my first multi-night (fine, just two) business trip since Little Bug came home. I've never gone a full day without seeing my son. I thought I would be fine, since I do enjoy "me time," but instead I cried my little eyes out the entire way to my airport.

Little Bug gave me some great smiles and then promptly pushed me away when I tried to smoother him with kisses. Of course, that made me cry more.

I'm apparently that mama.

I've called more times than I should have in the 8 hours I have been away, and I am sure I will call plenty more times. I miss my boys...there is no two ways around it.

A Sneak Peek

I'm mildly obsessed with my son.

Lately I have been going to work before he gets up, so I haven't seen him in the mornings. This makes me miss him, obviously.

This morning, about 45 minutes before he usually wakes up, I let my need to see him get the best of me and I peeked into his bedroom expecting to see the gentle rise and fall of his little tummy (which, by the way, he loves to show you now when you ask "where is your tummy"....genius).

It took me a minute to realize that what I saw was his beloved raggie being waved lazily in the air in the semi-dark room. He was facing away from me, sucking his thumb and staring at the bumper on his crib, and waving his raggie in the air, which he loves to do.

My initial reaction was "THREAT LEVEL MIDNIGHT" and to step away from the door quickly and quietly. I was not ready to get him up for the morning and still make it to work at a reasonable time. Nine times out of ten, when I shut the door he hears it and demands to be let out. Then Appa and I are trying to get ready while distracting him from diving into the empty bathtub with his toothbrush.

Today, not a peep.

So naturally, I was insanely drawn to watch him some more. I lasted about 10 minutes before sneaking another peek. This time I was almost finished getting for work, so I was more prepared if things took a turn for the worse.

Instead I was treated to about 3 minutes of Little Bug in "nature." It was like some interesting Planet Earth show, only for babies. Little Bug was rolling around in his crib, cooing secret things to his raggie and exploring the textures of his crib bedding like he has done countless time before. At one point, something must have struck his fancy, because he did this crazy army roll into a sitting position and sat high and alert (but still didn't look toward the door). Turned out he wanted to turn on his aquarium for some mood music. It was fascinating to me.

I tried to go back to getting ready, but by now I was hooked on my kid. I broke my own cardinal rule and went in to get him out of his crib before he started calling for us.

I'm so glad I did. Baby boy got a huge smile on his face and immediately stood up and said "up." There is something extra cuddly about him first thing in the morning, similar to hot bread right out of the oven. Instead of getting him ready for school, he and I sat together and read books, sang songs, hugged, and laughed.

I was late for work, and it was totally worth it.

Separated

This post is all about me, not about Little Bug.

One of the lingering and most common effects of Post Adoption Blues is the lack of that heart-wrenching feeling when you are separated from your child. Once I went back to work, I occasionally would muse about how I didn't feel this intense pull to be back with Little Bug immediately. I liked having my "me time" at work (I still do), but this lack of what I had expected to be an almost desolate longing when away from my baby never came.

At first I was hard on myself, as is normal with the PADs. I felt that my lack was proof of my deficiency. As the months went on and I worked through my blues and came out on a better side, I began to think that those intense, crazy feelings were the stuff of my imagination, something I had dreamed up when I built my ideal version of motherhood, and I was kind to myself and felt okay for not being overly focused on Little Bug when I was away from him.

That has changed....sort of.

I'm not weeping on the floor and calling my son's school begging to hear his sweet voice say "na" just once as he pushed the phone away from his ear, BUT I am thinking about him a lot more. Maybe thinking about him is not the right word, because I always thought about him, even before he came home.

Missing him.

I miss Little Bug when he is not with me. I've noticed I miss him when he takes naps, when he is sleeping at night, when I don't see him for a few hours, and most definitely when he is at school. It's this steady underlying desire to see him, coupled with a joy to just know that he is somewhere in the world, especially in my world.

It's one more way that I know that I am fully attached and bonded to my son, and that makes me feel good.

Sometimes it is the little things that are missing that make everything feel much more complete when the come.

Or in my case, it's a 30 lb Korean-American child.

How do you say 'Elmo' in Korean?

Last night I had a really interesting encounter. Little Bug and I ventured over to a bookstore that begins with a B to buy a book I had been anxiously waiting to be released. Within the last week, for some inexplicable reason, Little Bug has become fascinated with Elmo, so we ventured into the kid's section to see about an Elmo book. He was riding on my back in our Ergo baby carrier and chanting Elmo (ellllmaaa) over and over. It was cute.

After a couple minutes, a 30-something Korean woman approaches me, seemingly equal parts curious and distressed. She clearly was not a native English speaker, but could speak English.

Her: "Is he saying 'Omma'?"
Me: "No, he is saying 'Elmo'. He can say 'Omma', though."
Little Bug: "Ellllmaaaa, ellllmaaaa, elllllmaaaa"
Her: "Is he Korean?"
Me: "Yes. He was born in Korea."
Her: "'Omma' means mommy in Korean. He is saying 'Omma'."
Little Bug: "Elllmaaa, Elllmaa, Ommaaa." Dissolves into giggles before turning on the Little Bug charm.

At this point it is apparent to me that she can't discern between the two words Little Bug is saying (they are close to the untrained ear), and she thinks that he is calling for Omma and not being understood. She wasn't being mean; she truly seemed a little disconcerted by the whole thing. I decide to avoid trying to argue that he is saying "Elmo," even though I am proud that he is saying it, and go with her assumption that he is saying "Omma," because at this point, he is repeating Omma every time he hears her or me say it.

Me: "Yes, he calls me 'Omma' and he calls his dad 'Appa'. He can also say 'anyeong' and recognizes some other Korean words, too. We try to speak what little Korean we know to him on a regular basis."

She seemed genuinely surprised by this, but mollified in some way. She asked if he was adopted, how old he way, how big he was, etc. She touched him a lot, which normally would bother me, but I understand it is common in Korean culture, so I didn't worry about it.

Her: "He is still Korean, you know."
Me: "Yes, he will always be Korean. It is part of who he is."

She started asking a lot of personal questions like whether I worked, who he stayed with during the day, whether or not I cooked, if he saw Appa a lot, etc. I answered them all because it was clear that she was now genuinely interested in meeting an American woman who was raising a Korean son with the intent to try to preserve some of that heritage. In her broken English and my butchered Korean, we talked Korean food, Korean culture, Korean customs, etc. It was an enjoyable conversation with just a few comedic translation problems.

Her: "What is his Korean name?"
Me: "XXX YYYY."
Her:" XXX YYYY or XXX YYYYZZ?"
Me: Not able to tell the difference at all in what she is saying. "XXX YYYY."
Her:" XXX YYYY or XXX YYYYZZ?"
Me: Not still not able to tell the difference at all in what she is saying. "XXX YYYY. X-X-X Y-Y-Y-Y"
Her: "XXX YYYY."
Me: Not still not able to tell the difference at all in what she is saying. "Yes."

Finally, after about 10 minutes later, it was time for me to head out to get Little Bug home.

Her: "He's a lucky boy."
Me: "We are the lucky ones."

I'm not sure why this conversation struck me. Maybe it was because it was interesting to see what Korean people (we live in a very Korean-populated area) might be secretly wondering when they see us together. Maybe it was connecting with someone from Little Bug's birth culture and getting a chance to really talk about it again with someone. Maybe it was just a nice chat mother-to-mother. Maybe it was the seal of approval I got from this Korean woman, a seal I don't need but would love to have.

Maybe it was just the reminder as I drove my delighted son home with his new Elmo book that our family is deliciously layered and have irrevocably bound ourselves to another culture and have and will be enriched by that connection in the most unlikely of places.