Today Little Bug and I were laying together, and he farted. He looked right at me and laughed.
With two little boys and an Appa to outnumber me, I have a feeling that won't be the last time a fart is funny in my house.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
I'm Good Enough, I'm Smart Enough, and Doggone It, Little Bug Likes Me!
Some days, deep in my heart, I think Little Bug loves Appa a lot more than he loves me. They share a special bond, and Little Bug is undeniably a "daddy's boy." Of course, this often hurts my feelings, even though I know it shouldn't. I worry that perhaps my post adoption blues and inability to really bond with Little Bug early on irreparably limited the love he could have for me in comparisons to Appa.Other days, I don't feel that way...as much.
This week two things happened that really changed the way I see Little Bug's connection to me. The first was after a feeding session at school. As usual, I gave him a kiss and started to leave and he freaked out. Like, huge, real, anguished tears. It apparently took a while to calm him down.
I'm not going to lie and say it made me feel really bad (but it did make me feel moderately bad). Instead, it made me feel good. Never once has Little Bug cried when I've left him at school (although I don't do that often). It actually, in a sick and twisted way, made me feel really happy that he wanted me to be there.
Second, the Blogging Gods read my braggy post about my "kid's kick a@@ immune system"...I am sure it is obvious where this is going. Last night's high fever, croupy cough, and lack of sleep drama was so brutal that I cried all the way to work. Appa took the morning off to tend to Little Bug and I came home at noon to take over. Instead of taking the desperately needed nap, Little Bug wanted to be on me or next to me....all the time. For 4.5 hours my usually curious and active little 2 year old sat next to me on the couch, his head resting on the arm I wrapped around his warm body. At one point, he laid his head on my lap and finally took some sleep. It was overly apparent that the only thing Little Bug wanted today was his mama. Even after Appa came home, Little Bug would continue to crawl up next to me to cuddle in. It was actually so pathetic, I feel a slight twinge of guilt at taking such supreme enjoyment out of it.
Appa, who knows my inner doubts and is so good about lifting me up, looked over at us at one point and said "See, all he wants is his mother. You comfort him."
And I do. Even though I am the mama who wasn't exactly emotionally there for him in the beginning and even though I am the mama who is always the one cracking the therapy whip and building and reinforcing the boundaries and starting the time outs and saying no to "more" of whatever junk Appa has been sneaking him....
...I am also the mama who he wants to cuddle into every time he is sick or tired or scared. I am the mama he asks to sing his favorite songs his favorite way and the only mama who can tickle him to illicit both the cutest laugh AND a plea for more. I'm the mama who is always the first to pick up on a new word or a new sign, and I am the mama who "shakes your booty" with him every night. Despite it all, I am his mama.
And just like every other part of my attachment/motherhood process, I feel a shift after today that I know is permanent for me. Another little lingering doubt floating in the back of my head that has resolved itself. It's a wonderful feeling.
So, since my sick baby literally just woke up crying in pain, I'm off to comfort him into the wee hours of the morning. Kinda looking forward to it, actually.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Pity Party, Table for 1
As much as I joke and as serious as those jokes actually are, I do think it is a serious bummer I will never be pregnant (read: ME have a kid in my belly, not MY KIDS be in my belly). I'm at a spot where it really doesn't bother me, and I actually consider it a "lucky break" in a lot of ways.
However, the selfish mama in me is still bummed about the silly parts of pregnancy, namely everyone (my husband) fawning over me. The constant growing reminder that we are growing our family, that we are already more than just three.
It's not like I would be able to wear one of those "Expecting from Korea" shirts every day for 12-18 months, and even if I could, I would never be caught dead in one (no offense, please, to those who like that sort of thing). The bottom line is that people don't treat me like an expectant mother, even though it's truly how I feel. My kid is growing out in the world, living, breathing, learning…my heart is expanding and my mind is preparing, but most don't know that. Who knows, maybe most people really don't really consider my situation similar to that of an expectant mother, and that is fine.
But it is a bummer when those that do don't validate it.
Appa doesn't read this blog, so this post is purely to calm my own soul. He is a good man, a very devoted and loving husband and father, and he is happy to be in the adoption process and will no doubt go goofy crazy in love over Little Bro.
For me, I love to think about our adoption. I am steeped in a community where it is in my face every day. I get REALLY excited thinking about our son, to the point of distraction sometimes. I'm a woman…I've been thinking about my babies since I was 3 years old. Like any expectant mother, I want to mull over names and nursery patterns and new gifts. Appa, for whatever reason, would prefer not to do any of that until we get really close to a referral (close being relative when we are a month or two away right now), and even then, his excitement is always so tempered. He is a stoic man, and I know that about him, so I tend to allow for that because I know how he will be when the baby comes home, but sometimes it hurts when I need to share my excitement with someone and the one person I want to share it with doesn't want to indulge me…like, seriously, hardly ever.
Unfortunately and somewhat uncharacteristically today Appa mentioned this emotional disconnect between our approaches to this next adoption in what was probably not the world's most perfect timing and it made me cry…at work...at my desk and has left a melancholy twinge in my heart since then.
Of course he certainly didn't intent for it to make me sad, but the bottom line is that sometimes in a marriage it's hard to be with someone with such a different temperament than your own. Add in something you feel passionate about and it is a recipe for some heartache. I know Appa is excited for Little Bro, but I guess sometimes I selfishly wish it was the same sort of excited that I am.
So, I have a few more hours to pout here at work before I think I need to get over this. It's nothing new, after all. I'm sure my husband will do something nice tonight like pour me a glass of wine or offer to take Battle Silverware for the night or give me kisses on my nose and a neck rub. He's that kind of guy. I'll remember that just as he can't expect me to change my emotional grids to match his, I can't expect him to conform to mine.
We will both be thrilled when we first see Little Bro's face, of that I am sure. He might not already have a name picked out, and we might not exactly know where we are going to relocate our guest bedroom or what we are going to put in his care package, but it will be love for both of us, and that's when the excitement will truly matter.
I still wish I had some chocolate right now, though.
However, the selfish mama in me is still bummed about the silly parts of pregnancy, namely everyone (my husband) fawning over me. The constant growing reminder that we are growing our family, that we are already more than just three.
It's not like I would be able to wear one of those "Expecting from Korea" shirts every day for 12-18 months, and even if I could, I would never be caught dead in one (no offense, please, to those who like that sort of thing). The bottom line is that people don't treat me like an expectant mother, even though it's truly how I feel. My kid is growing out in the world, living, breathing, learning…my heart is expanding and my mind is preparing, but most don't know that. Who knows, maybe most people really don't really consider my situation similar to that of an expectant mother, and that is fine.
But it is a bummer when those that do don't validate it.
Appa doesn't read this blog, so this post is purely to calm my own soul. He is a good man, a very devoted and loving husband and father, and he is happy to be in the adoption process and will no doubt go goofy crazy in love over Little Bro.
For me, I love to think about our adoption. I am steeped in a community where it is in my face every day. I get REALLY excited thinking about our son, to the point of distraction sometimes. I'm a woman…I've been thinking about my babies since I was 3 years old. Like any expectant mother, I want to mull over names and nursery patterns and new gifts. Appa, for whatever reason, would prefer not to do any of that until we get really close to a referral (close being relative when we are a month or two away right now), and even then, his excitement is always so tempered. He is a stoic man, and I know that about him, so I tend to allow for that because I know how he will be when the baby comes home, but sometimes it hurts when I need to share my excitement with someone and the one person I want to share it with doesn't want to indulge me…like, seriously, hardly ever.
Unfortunately and somewhat uncharacteristically today Appa mentioned this emotional disconnect between our approaches to this next adoption in what was probably not the world's most perfect timing and it made me cry…at work...at my desk and has left a melancholy twinge in my heart since then.
Of course he certainly didn't intent for it to make me sad, but the bottom line is that sometimes in a marriage it's hard to be with someone with such a different temperament than your own. Add in something you feel passionate about and it is a recipe for some heartache. I know Appa is excited for Little Bro, but I guess sometimes I selfishly wish it was the same sort of excited that I am.
So, I have a few more hours to pout here at work before I think I need to get over this. It's nothing new, after all. I'm sure my husband will do something nice tonight like pour me a glass of wine or offer to take Battle Silverware for the night or give me kisses on my nose and a neck rub. He's that kind of guy. I'll remember that just as he can't expect me to change my emotional grids to match his, I can't expect him to conform to mine.
We will both be thrilled when we first see Little Bro's face, of that I am sure. He might not already have a name picked out, and we might not exactly know where we are going to relocate our guest bedroom or what we are going to put in his care package, but it will be love for both of us, and that's when the excitement will truly matter.
I still wish I had some chocolate right now, though.
Monday, January 25, 2010
There Is No Such Thing As Defeat
Mealtimes have been...rough....around our house lately. For the last two weeks we spend our meals physically forcing Little Big to use his silverware, even with finger foods. I'm taking extended lunch breaks and going over to work with him during lunch at school. We are trying very hard to not let things slip, to keep a solid, united message for Little Bug.
Fork + spoon = food. Fingers = no food.
Of course, then you have nights like tonight.
Appa was off having a fancy sushi dinner, and Little Bug was hell bent on not being bested for dinner. No problem...I sighed a big sigh and then situated myself for battle. I've got this dance down to a step.
Except tonight, he owned me.
Even though it was all easy-to-scoop food, he refused to use his silverware. I know some people are of the mindset that you just have your child skip a meal to prove your point, but my 2-year-old kid has 8 therapy sessions a week and expends more energy than most kids simply by performing basic tasks like walking or holding a sippy cup; skipping a meal like dinner is just not an option for him right now. So, after 30 minutes with little more than a couple grains of rice in his belly and a whole lot of ornery in his face, I gave up.
I went into the kitchen and let him think he was pulling a fast one over on me by eating with his hands as fast as he could. (Or rather, I tried to preserve what was left of my pride.) However, he was eating. Indeed, the kid even asked for seconds. As I stood there in the kitchen, I felt defeated.
Then Little Bug caught my attention with a this new word he loves to happily chant "mapabadada." I looked over just in time to see him pick up that blasted fork, manage to scoop a small bite, and expertly place it in his mouth. Then he twisted his neck around to make eye contact with me and clapped.
Of course, he went back to eating with his hands, but it reminded me that life isn't always a battle, even though it feels like it so often at our home. We're not fighting against Little Bug and he isn't fighting against us. All three of us are simply helping each other grow and learn to be the best we can be.
And some nights, the only way to do that is with a full stomach and getting your hands dirty.
Fork + spoon = food. Fingers = no food.
Of course, then you have nights like tonight.
Appa was off having a fancy sushi dinner, and Little Bug was hell bent on not being bested for dinner. No problem...I sighed a big sigh and then situated myself for battle. I've got this dance down to a step.
Except tonight, he owned me.
Even though it was all easy-to-scoop food, he refused to use his silverware. I know some people are of the mindset that you just have your child skip a meal to prove your point, but my 2-year-old kid has 8 therapy sessions a week and expends more energy than most kids simply by performing basic tasks like walking or holding a sippy cup; skipping a meal like dinner is just not an option for him right now. So, after 30 minutes with little more than a couple grains of rice in his belly and a whole lot of ornery in his face, I gave up.
I went into the kitchen and let him think he was pulling a fast one over on me by eating with his hands as fast as he could. (Or rather, I tried to preserve what was left of my pride.) However, he was eating. Indeed, the kid even asked for seconds. As I stood there in the kitchen, I felt defeated.
Then Little Bug caught my attention with a this new word he loves to happily chant "mapabadada." I looked over just in time to see him pick up that blasted fork, manage to scoop a small bite, and expertly place it in his mouth. Then he twisted his neck around to make eye contact with me and clapped.
Of course, he went back to eating with his hands, but it reminded me that life isn't always a battle, even though it feels like it so often at our home. We're not fighting against Little Bug and he isn't fighting against us. All three of us are simply helping each other grow and learn to be the best we can be.
And some nights, the only way to do that is with a full stomach and getting your hands dirty.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Carrier Monkey (Otherwise titled "Vomiting With Love, Part II")
To steal a phrase from a friend of mine, my son is apparently a "carrier monkey."
When we put Little Bug in daycare, we braced ourselves for the inevitable constant illnesses that come with it. Surprisingly, he has only been sick once since he started (and once before that). In fact, in the 1.5+ years we have had him, he has only been really sick those two times. Lucky, I know.
However, Appa and I cannot say the same.
We would go years without getting the flu. Since Little Bug went to daycare, we have both been laid out praying to the porcelain god. Last night was round two for me.
I'll spare the details, with is probably a shocker, but let's just say the Pesto Cavatappi from Corner Bakery is possible on my "never to eat again" list, right there with powdered doughnuts washed down with vodka and orange juice and Tequila Sunrises. Why oh why couldn't I have had something less yummy for lunch yesterday?
After I was able to hold down some saltines again and reassured some people via e-mail that NO, I AM NOT PREGNANT, I realized there is a silver lining to this: my carrier monkey son must just have a kick-a@@ immune system.
So while he can apparently go roll around on the floor of a doctor's office and lick the handle of a Metra train, Appa and I need to step up our vitamins and flu shots. Otherwise our little carrier monkey is going to continue to share these germs with us.
I mean, we have been trying to teach him to share.
When we put Little Bug in daycare, we braced ourselves for the inevitable constant illnesses that come with it. Surprisingly, he has only been sick once since he started (and once before that). In fact, in the 1.5+ years we have had him, he has only been really sick those two times. Lucky, I know.
However, Appa and I cannot say the same.
We would go years without getting the flu. Since Little Bug went to daycare, we have both been laid out praying to the porcelain god. Last night was round two for me.
I'll spare the details, with is probably a shocker, but let's just say the Pesto Cavatappi from Corner Bakery is possible on my "never to eat again" list, right there with powdered doughnuts washed down with vodka and orange juice and Tequila Sunrises. Why oh why couldn't I have had something less yummy for lunch yesterday?
After I was able to hold down some saltines again and reassured some people via e-mail that NO, I AM NOT PREGNANT, I realized there is a silver lining to this: my carrier monkey son must just have a kick-a@@ immune system.
So while he can apparently go roll around on the floor of a doctor's office and lick the handle of a Metra train, Appa and I need to step up our vitamins and flu shots. Otherwise our little carrier monkey is going to continue to share these germs with us.
I mean, we have been trying to teach him to share.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
What a Baby
The reason they tell parents not be belabor goodbyes is not because the kids can't handle it; it's because the parents can't.
I don't take Little Bug to school (daycare) each morning, Appa does it. I just get to be the hero every afternoon when I come to get him (actually, he is more excited to play with me there, not to leave really). However, lately I am going over on my lunch break to do more self feeding work with him (my poor baby; I could just see the injustice in his eyes as all the other kids happily ate with their fingers).
Anyway, after lunch is was time for a nap. I KNEW I should just up and leave. To give a lot of hugs and kisses and coo my goodbyes into his hair would "make it harder for him." Yet, I had to drag myself out of that classroom and away from him. As I shut the door, I heard him whine my name and thought "oh, this must be so hard for him."
Yet, when I checked the monitor about 45 seconds later, he was happily showing his friends his beloved raggie. Only one of us had a hard time with my leaving....and it wasn't the 2-year-old.
Mamas are such babies.
I don't take Little Bug to school (daycare) each morning, Appa does it. I just get to be the hero every afternoon when I come to get him (actually, he is more excited to play with me there, not to leave really). However, lately I am going over on my lunch break to do more self feeding work with him (my poor baby; I could just see the injustice in his eyes as all the other kids happily ate with their fingers).
Anyway, after lunch is was time for a nap. I KNEW I should just up and leave. To give a lot of hugs and kisses and coo my goodbyes into his hair would "make it harder for him." Yet, I had to drag myself out of that classroom and away from him. As I shut the door, I heard him whine my name and thought "oh, this must be so hard for him."
Yet, when I checked the monitor about 45 seconds later, he was happily showing his friends his beloved raggie. Only one of us had a hard time with my leaving....and it wasn't the 2-year-old.
Mamas are such babies.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
I Will Miss This
A bloggy friend of mine recently wrote a post about taking the time to enjoy the period of life you are in right now because a time will come when you will miss it. It really stuck with me.
So, I will someday miss the nights when all Little Bug wants to do is sit on my lap and have me sing his three favorite songs to him...over and over and over. When he grabs my face to make sure I am watching him, just because he likes me to.
I will miss those bad nights where Little Bug constantly wakes up crying and will only be consoled if I am standing over his crib. I will miss how he will occasionally look up from his butt up hybrid fetal position to make sure I am still there. I will miss how he needs my presence when he is feeling most vulnerable.
I will his different cries and how I have learned what they mean. Even the loud, angry cry. One day he won't make that anymore and that unique sound that is so totally his will be relegated to my memory only.
I will miss the nights when he can't fall asleep, and I have to sit by his bed. Soon my time will be divided and it won't be so easy to devote hours in the evening to his bedside alone.
So, even though my eyes are falling out from fatigue, and I even though I rolled over in bed last night and let Little Bug cry because, as I vehemently told our very sick Appa, "I just CANNOT do it right now," I really will miss all of it someday.
And remembering that makes it all a little bit easier today.
So, I will someday miss the nights when all Little Bug wants to do is sit on my lap and have me sing his three favorite songs to him...over and over and over. When he grabs my face to make sure I am watching him, just because he likes me to.
I will miss those bad nights where Little Bug constantly wakes up crying and will only be consoled if I am standing over his crib. I will miss how he will occasionally look up from his butt up hybrid fetal position to make sure I am still there. I will miss how he needs my presence when he is feeling most vulnerable.
I will his different cries and how I have learned what they mean. Even the loud, angry cry. One day he won't make that anymore and that unique sound that is so totally his will be relegated to my memory only.
I will miss the nights when he can't fall asleep, and I have to sit by his bed. Soon my time will be divided and it won't be so easy to devote hours in the evening to his bedside alone.
So, even though my eyes are falling out from fatigue, and I even though I rolled over in bed last night and let Little Bug cry because, as I vehemently told our very sick Appa, "I just CANNOT do it right now," I really will miss all of it someday.
And remembering that makes it all a little bit easier today.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Lucky
I'm not superstitious, but I do have some quirks that probably fall in that category.Like my "lucky" coins. I don't actually think they are lucky, but I do like to carry them everywhere I go. In fact, I like them to be in my change purse so I can see them on a regular basis. One is a Jamaican coin from my honeymoon. It's never left my purse in 6.5 years. The second is a Korean coin minted in the year Little Bug was born. It's never left my purse in the 16 months I've had it.
Unfortunately, I've almost spent them one too many times, so now they both are covered in tape to remind me to take a closer look when digging for that last quarter.
But every day I see them and they make me happy. That's probably not luck, but it can't hurt.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Everything YOU Needed to Know in Life You Could Have Learned on the Nature Channel
Dear occupational therapist who I met with today,
You are the second OT my son has worked with. I have a couple of things I need to say to you. But let's start by saying that if you don't have the Nature Channel, you really should get it. I think you could learn a lot from even just DVRing a few shows.
Take for example, the very interesting Yellowstone bears vs. wolves program Appa and I watched a few days ago.
First, if you had watched it, you would have seen the part of the show where the baby bear learns to hunt. It's not easy for the baby bears to really "get it," but after time, they finally do. That is mainly because their mama doesn't give up on them. She knows they will learn to do it, and until they do, she is going to keep them safe and believe.
Second, you might have seen the part about how wolves always travel in packs. Everyone around the baby wolves protect them and rally around them. Those little baby wolves don't just have their mamas looking out for them, they have all the other wolves who love them ready to go to battle for them. That pack mentality is a good thing for the baby wolves, not a bad, "hysterical," or "overreacting" sort of thing.
Third, you would have learned "instinct" is not always enough. Unless time and effort and sacrifice is put into training those little baby animals, they will not thrive. It's not just something that will "some day come." A mama bear doesn't look at her cub who can't defend itself and think "well, I'm not going to BOTHER doing anything about that because developmentally that's just where he is right now...I should just DEAL with that."
And finally, if you had watched this very interesting program, you would have seen the part where a wolf was hanging around with the potential to hurt a little bear cub, and you would have seen the Mama Bear rip that wolf's face off.
It was not pretty; I'm just saying.
It was so nice chatting with you today. Please let me know if you are interested in the name of my cable provider. I highly recommend you brush up on your nature vs. nurture.
You are the second OT my son has worked with. I have a couple of things I need to say to you. But let's start by saying that if you don't have the Nature Channel, you really should get it. I think you could learn a lot from even just DVRing a few shows.
Take for example, the very interesting Yellowstone bears vs. wolves program Appa and I watched a few days ago.
First, if you had watched it, you would have seen the part of the show where the baby bear learns to hunt. It's not easy for the baby bears to really "get it," but after time, they finally do. That is mainly because their mama doesn't give up on them. She knows they will learn to do it, and until they do, she is going to keep them safe and believe.
Second, you might have seen the part about how wolves always travel in packs. Everyone around the baby wolves protect them and rally around them. Those little baby wolves don't just have their mamas looking out for them, they have all the other wolves who love them ready to go to battle for them. That pack mentality is a good thing for the baby wolves, not a bad, "hysterical," or "overreacting" sort of thing.
Third, you would have learned "instinct" is not always enough. Unless time and effort and sacrifice is put into training those little baby animals, they will not thrive. It's not just something that will "some day come." A mama bear doesn't look at her cub who can't defend itself and think "well, I'm not going to BOTHER doing anything about that because developmentally that's just where he is right now...I should just DEAL with that."
And finally, if you had watched this very interesting program, you would have seen the part where a wolf was hanging around with the potential to hurt a little bear cub, and you would have seen the Mama Bear rip that wolf's face off.
It was not pretty; I'm just saying.
It was so nice chatting with you today. Please let me know if you are interested in the name of my cable provider. I highly recommend you brush up on your nature vs. nurture.
3 Hours Was All I Wanted to Waste
This weekend was epic.
After much anticipation, a group of adoptive mama blog friends converged in my hometown to spend some time together. Most of these women I had met in the flesh before, but some I had not, including two from across the country. However, I feel like I already know these ladies so well, so it was easy to fall into a natural rhythm.
I was trying to think of the best way to capture this weekend here. I could give a play by play or perhaps hit some highlights, including getting upgraded to a fancier lake view suite, watching our soon-to-be-holding-their-baby mamas open the small, but much planned out shower gifts, "closing down" a fancy restaurant, staying up chatting to a hour where we couldn't be sure if that was just fog or daylight breaking over the lake (functioning all day on 3 hours of sleep was like modeling the future that awaits my waiting friends), attempting and conquering a dreaded "free day" at our aquarium with 6 little boys, or the fact that my husband, who is generally salty about these sorts of things, told me very genuinely that he was happy I had such a fantastic time.
But overall, I guess I'm just left with this sense of peace and excitement from this weekend. As an adult, it is not easy to make new friends, especially friends that fit both your individual personality and your family life. Being surrounded by these women who could identify with me on so many levels (new mama, adoptive mama, wife, shoe-focused woman, and some with infertility) made me feel so peaceful. To have a group of women I can turn to that "get" me on so many levels is very exciting and refreshing. I look forward to the future and to seeing these women and their families again and again. Many of them are eventually going to continue to grow their families, so we've got even more awesomeness to look forward to.
And ultimately, it's so important for me to take the time to still be "me" sometimes. Not the on duty wife of Appa and the mother of Little Bug, but to be able to focus on enjoying time as a woman. It allows me to return to my boys happy, refreshed, refocused, and more grateful than ever.
That = awesome.
After much anticipation, a group of adoptive mama blog friends converged in my hometown to spend some time together. Most of these women I had met in the flesh before, but some I had not, including two from across the country. However, I feel like I already know these ladies so well, so it was easy to fall into a natural rhythm.
I was trying to think of the best way to capture this weekend here. I could give a play by play or perhaps hit some highlights, including getting upgraded to a fancier lake view suite, watching our soon-to-be-holding-their-baby mamas open the small, but much planned out shower gifts, "closing down" a fancy restaurant, staying up chatting to a hour where we couldn't be sure if that was just fog or daylight breaking over the lake (functioning all day on 3 hours of sleep was like modeling the future that awaits my waiting friends), attempting and conquering a dreaded "free day" at our aquarium with 6 little boys, or the fact that my husband, who is generally salty about these sorts of things, told me very genuinely that he was happy I had such a fantastic time.
But overall, I guess I'm just left with this sense of peace and excitement from this weekend. As an adult, it is not easy to make new friends, especially friends that fit both your individual personality and your family life. Being surrounded by these women who could identify with me on so many levels (new mama, adoptive mama, wife, shoe-focused woman, and some with infertility) made me feel so peaceful. To have a group of women I can turn to that "get" me on so many levels is very exciting and refreshing. I look forward to the future and to seeing these women and their families again and again. Many of them are eventually going to continue to grow their families, so we've got even more awesomeness to look forward to.
And ultimately, it's so important for me to take the time to still be "me" sometimes. Not the on duty wife of Appa and the mother of Little Bug, but to be able to focus on enjoying time as a woman. It allows me to return to my boys happy, refreshed, refocused, and more grateful than ever.
That = awesome.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Back in the Saddle Again
When Little Bug was 10 months old, he could not pick up a cheerio and put it in his mouth. The only way he learned this was for Appa and I to sit right in front of him and force his fingers to pinch a cheerio, force his hand to his mouth, force him to put it in his mouth, and repeat. Over and over and over again. For WEEKS.As you can imagine, Little Bug did not enjoy this, and after 20 or 30 minutes a night of this, neither did Appa or Mama. But wouldn't you know, Little Bug caught on and is now a cheerio eating pro.
When Little Bug was 15 months old, we were directed to start modifying what was a very worrisome preference for his left hand. To stop him from using his left hand to pick up cheerios and force him to move his right, we had to put a sock on the left hand during meals (his right was too weak to yank it off).
As you can imagine, Little Bug did not enjoy this, and after 20 or 30 minutes of forcing an angry child to use his right hand (sit right in front of him and force his fingers to pinch a cherrio, force his hand to his mouth, force him to put it in his mouth, and repeat), neither did Appa and Mama. For WEEKS. But wouldn't you know, Little Bug is now showing a strong tendency toward being right handed.
At 2 year old, Little Bug needs to start learning how to use a fork and spoon. He sorta gets it, and tries, but it's more like a game to him. If left to his own devices, he would hold the flatware in one hand and eat with his other. This is one of the biggest things holding him back from joining his age peers in the Discovery Preschool 2 room. We've had all of our therapists weigh in, his teachers weigh in, and even his pediatrician. All the little tips and tricks have been helping, but only marginally.
So, two nights ago Appa and I realized there was nothing else to do but go OLD SCHOOL.
Drats for all three of us.
Each night one of us sits next to Little Bug and "models" how to eat. The other one stands directly behind Little Bug and forces his hands to use the spoon or fork. We do not let him take a single bit during dinner with his hands.
Yes, it sucks as bad as you would imagine it does. About 8-10 times a meal Little Bug has to be pulled away from the table while we count to 10, just to reset his emotions and give us all a break. Meal times have gone from 20 minutes to 45+ minutes.
Bottom line, no one is loving meal time right now in our house.
But Appa and I keep reminding each other that this worked before and it will work again. Little Bug's therapies have often been "unfun" and "inconvenient" for all three of us, but if it works, which it will--eventually--it will all be worth it.
Oh, and I tried, just to see, if we could still use the sock trick. It took my little bug all of one nanosecond to rip that thing off and fling it across the room, so there's another reminder of how far we have come.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Bad Habits are Always the Most Fun
In the last few weeks, Little Bug has developed a really weird sleep pattern. Each morning he wakes up like clockwork at about 5:00 am. (He usually slept until 6:30). If left in his crib, he will stand and cry. Unlike our nighttime routine when this happens, he doesn't seem to respond to our tricks to get him down, and quite frankly, even if he did, it would be time to get him up once he finally went back down.
So, for the past several weeks, Little Bug has been sleeping that last hour in bed with us, and 9 times out of 10, sleeping peacefully. Twisting, turning, and sometimes freaking me out by getting right into my face and waiting for me to wake up. The silly smile I get when I do open my eyes is worth it, though. But overall, he isn't really bothering Appa and I when he comes into bed with us in the mornings.
And boy, oh boy, my baby is cuddly. Lots of mothers talk about the smell of their kids, but for me, it's the heat. There is a special sort of heat that Little Bug emits right when he wakes up. His skin is so smooth and soft and it feels like hugging a big warm loaf of bread (not that I make it a practice to do that). Even better, lately when I pick up my warm loaf of bread, his long not-a-baby-anymore limbs are a bit lax and it strikes me--every time--how he is such a little human now, not a baby.
I truly look forward to this hour of the morning.
BUT--we are also walking a dangerous line. We've been sucked into cosleeping for periods of time in the past, and for our family, it is not a viable long-term option. This morning cuddle time feels different in that he has slept most of the night in his bed and is still doing "pretty well" with his nighttime routine. (Damn you, Terrible Twos testing boundaries period!)
So, we continue to do this little morning routine, even though I worry we are setting a dangerous precedent. Coupled with the fact that we are going to be moving Little Bug to a toddler bed in the next few weeks, I think this has the potential for some "reprogramming" down the line.
But for now, I am going to enjoy my little loaf of Korean bread first thing each morning.
So, for the past several weeks, Little Bug has been sleeping that last hour in bed with us, and 9 times out of 10, sleeping peacefully. Twisting, turning, and sometimes freaking me out by getting right into my face and waiting for me to wake up. The silly smile I get when I do open my eyes is worth it, though. But overall, he isn't really bothering Appa and I when he comes into bed with us in the mornings.
And boy, oh boy, my baby is cuddly. Lots of mothers talk about the smell of their kids, but for me, it's the heat. There is a special sort of heat that Little Bug emits right when he wakes up. His skin is so smooth and soft and it feels like hugging a big warm loaf of bread (not that I make it a practice to do that). Even better, lately when I pick up my warm loaf of bread, his long not-a-baby-anymore limbs are a bit lax and it strikes me--every time--how he is such a little human now, not a baby.
I truly look forward to this hour of the morning.
BUT--we are also walking a dangerous line. We've been sucked into cosleeping for periods of time in the past, and for our family, it is not a viable long-term option. This morning cuddle time feels different in that he has slept most of the night in his bed and is still doing "pretty well" with his nighttime routine. (Damn you, Terrible Twos testing boundaries period!)
So, we continue to do this little morning routine, even though I worry we are setting a dangerous precedent. Coupled with the fact that we are going to be moving Little Bug to a toddler bed in the next few weeks, I think this has the potential for some "reprogramming" down the line.
But for now, I am going to enjoy my little loaf of Korean bread first thing each morning.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
A
7 years ago today, I got married. About 10 people knew that.
6.5 year ago, I had my beautiful wedding.
Appa and I have two wedding anniversaries. Today, which we call "A" and our "wedding day," which we privately call B, but consider our main anniversary. After all, that was the day we made our nearest and dearest sweat it out in 100+ temps while shaking their booties to Sir Mix-a-lot's "Baby Got Back," and when we started wearing rings.
But today, today is technically the day I married my favorite man. It's special, whether I wanted it to be or not.
And I didn't want it to be...this anniversary.
If shotgun wedding could apply to more than just pregnancy, that would be our blessed wedding day. We waited just the required 10 days after I moved to the Midwest before getting hitched. Without going into too much detail, we had been emotionally blackmailed into getting married instead of living together for 6 months before our wedding day. (I've forgiven them, of course, but it doesn't change the memories of that day).
So imagine the scene. A young man and woman dressed in whatever they threw on that day are standing in a city building hallway (it had a fake tree, which was apparently to make it fancy), surrounded by parents dressed in nice dress clothes holding video cameras. The man looks really annoyed and the woman looks downright pissed. After being guilted into hold some flowers, she begins the "ceremony" by asking the man who was officiating to say as "little as possible and make it quick." She even begins the ceremony with her hands on her hips.
At 22, I was a still learning to handle my emotions appropriately, as you can see.
After the quick 5 minute ceremony, which I remember nothing of, we all went into the side room to officially sign the marriage certificate. Two minutes later, I went into physical shock.
Everyone but Appa left the room, and together he and I mourned the experience we felt we had just thrown away. It was actually incredibility traumatic for me and had me in sporadic tears for a days.
And I am pretty sure the officiator put $100 on our marriage lasting 6 months.
The evening ended with a "fancy" meal at a steak house Appa's parents used to love when they lived in this particular college town decades before. Wouldn't you know, the place had changed hands and the walls were covered with white sheets of computer paper with hand written scriptures quotes all over them. The steak was okay, though. A perfectly weird ending to a perfectly weird day.
There are no pictures from this day, and the video is apparently not an enjoyable one to watch. I wouldn't know, I never watched it.
So, it's funny that I now have a fondness of this anniversary. In the grand scheme of life, getting married early only benefited us (taxes, insurance, credit, etc.). We told only our immediate family and best friends, so our actual wedding was still very much the celebration we had hoped for.
And now, I get TWO anniversaries!
So Appa, if you ever read this, happy 7A. I'd marry you in a hallway all over again in a heartbeat. I'd even put on something nice and hold your hand this time.
6.5 year ago, I had my beautiful wedding.
Appa and I have two wedding anniversaries. Today, which we call "A" and our "wedding day," which we privately call B, but consider our main anniversary. After all, that was the day we made our nearest and dearest sweat it out in 100+ temps while shaking their booties to Sir Mix-a-lot's "Baby Got Back," and when we started wearing rings.
But today, today is technically the day I married my favorite man. It's special, whether I wanted it to be or not.
And I didn't want it to be...this anniversary.
If shotgun wedding could apply to more than just pregnancy, that would be our blessed wedding day. We waited just the required 10 days after I moved to the Midwest before getting hitched. Without going into too much detail, we had been emotionally blackmailed into getting married instead of living together for 6 months before our wedding day. (I've forgiven them, of course, but it doesn't change the memories of that day).
So imagine the scene. A young man and woman dressed in whatever they threw on that day are standing in a city building hallway (it had a fake tree, which was apparently to make it fancy), surrounded by parents dressed in nice dress clothes holding video cameras. The man looks really annoyed and the woman looks downright pissed. After being guilted into hold some flowers, she begins the "ceremony" by asking the man who was officiating to say as "little as possible and make it quick." She even begins the ceremony with her hands on her hips.
At 22, I was a still learning to handle my emotions appropriately, as you can see.
After the quick 5 minute ceremony, which I remember nothing of, we all went into the side room to officially sign the marriage certificate. Two minutes later, I went into physical shock.
Everyone but Appa left the room, and together he and I mourned the experience we felt we had just thrown away. It was actually incredibility traumatic for me and had me in sporadic tears for a days.
And I am pretty sure the officiator put $100 on our marriage lasting 6 months.
The evening ended with a "fancy" meal at a steak house Appa's parents used to love when they lived in this particular college town decades before. Wouldn't you know, the place had changed hands and the walls were covered with white sheets of computer paper with hand written scriptures quotes all over them. The steak was okay, though. A perfectly weird ending to a perfectly weird day.
There are no pictures from this day, and the video is apparently not an enjoyable one to watch. I wouldn't know, I never watched it.
So, it's funny that I now have a fondness of this anniversary. In the grand scheme of life, getting married early only benefited us (taxes, insurance, credit, etc.). We told only our immediate family and best friends, so our actual wedding was still very much the celebration we had hoped for.
And now, I get TWO anniversaries!
So Appa, if you ever read this, happy 7A. I'd marry you in a hallway all over again in a heartbeat. I'd even put on something nice and hold your hand this time.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Everything I Need to Know I Learned From a Glee Cover of a Rolling Stones Song
"You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need."My little sister and I hated each other for probably the first 22+ years of our lives. Hate is perhaps a strong word, but strongly, strongly disliked is accurate. It wasn't until 2005 that my sister and I rediscovered each other as women and friends. Since then, we have continued to cultivate a really nice friendship as equals, and I love her dearly.
So, when my sister announced her pregnancy about a month before we announced our intentions to adopt, I was very happy for her. I watched her pregnancy and shared in her ups and downs. On the day she gave birth to her son, the first grandchild in our family, I spoke to her from the operating room. It was Thanksgiving Day 2007. All day long, I rejoiced from afar at the birth of this little boy, all the while thinking of my own little guy I would someday call my own.
Turns out, my little boy was being born…that very same day, just a few hours before my nephew. On the other side of the world.
The entire 9 months I had been watching my sister's pregnancy, I had also been watching my son's birth mother's. The irony of the whole thing is sometimes too much for me.
It soon became apparent that my little nephew faced a lot of challenges. One of his challenges was hypotonia. For months, I counseled my sister and watched her navigate through the unexpected world of special needs and therapies and the depression that sometimes comes with it. I was able to provide her with an objective counsel, as someone outside the situation, but who still cared deeply. She was, and still is, a great example to me of positivity and advocacy.
During this time, we received Little Bug's normal referral and marveled over the fact that our boys were born on the same day. "Delicious irony," I believe I liked to call it. My sister was worried that her son wouldn't be able to keep up with his cousins, and I swore to her that my son would always be a special buddy with his "birthday twin."
Then came the phone call that changed my life. My 10-month-old son was ready to travel home, but Oh, by the way, he actually had severe hypotonia and was 6 months delayed. They would understand if we wanted to back out…
Obviously shock and devastation were the main emotions, with a healthy dose of anger and fear. However, in the back of my mind, I wasn't surprised at all. Just as I had watched my sister's belly swell for both our babies, I had watched her face these special needs head on for 10 months. I could do this because I was already watching someone else do it. As we like to say now, "Hypotonia runs in our family." Little Bug was meant to come to us, and we were meant to parent him.
I like to think Appa and I rebounded quicker than most would, and we were on a plane within days, flying truly blind as to what we were facing. I had a feeling it would all be okay.
Of course, it was.
You can't always get what you want...
I did not want to deal with infertility. My sister did not want her son to have the additional challenges of special needs. I did not want my son to have the additional challenges of special needs. And like I said before, for a large portion of my life, I didn't want to have a sister 22 months younger and the polar opposite from me.
But, if you try sometimes, you just might find…
Infertility gave me an inner strength and life perspective I am very thankful for and lead us to have the courage to adopt. My sister jumped in head first into the world of therapies and doctors and neurologists and bared her soul to me in her darkest hours. Her perspective on life changed dramatically, but not for the bad. Appa and I took a leap of faith and got on that pretty teal colored plane.
You get what you need.
My sister is enjoying daily life with her son who is walking, loves peas, Elmo, and music, and is a joy to have. Little Bug is walking and talking and also loves peas, Elmo, and music (they are birthday twins, after all), and is the very best thing about my life. The two little boys have only met once, but they connected in a way that was almost errie. They truly are the special friend the other needed in their corner.
And my life is so blessed because I have a sister who I can talk honestly with on the days that "what you needed" is not always "what you wanted." Who understands almost intuitively that the tears are out of love. A sister who understands the magnitude of a 3 inch scoot on the floor or a new word. A sister who is walking this path next to me, not cheering me on from the sidelines.
And those precious, perfect birthday twins who have made my family so happy…my sister and I whisper sometimes that although neither of us would wish these needs on the other's son, we both maybe "needed" to have sons with hypotonia, for each other, for them, for ourselves.
Oh, Glee. You are so wise with your covers.
Monday, January 11, 2010
5 Things I Love About Today
- Love Little Bug's routine JOY at watching the garage door close, and how he always grabs my face to make sure I am looking, too. Every single day. I love the routines of a toddler.
- Loved that I tracked my I-600a to Texas. It's being processed (hopefully), and I should get that super fun confirmation letter soon. Those letters are always so official looking. Love anything with shiny ink on it.
- Love all the comments on my "I'm Pregnant" post. The intent was to not fake people out (I promise), but I love the fact that so many of you expressed worry, not relief at my Post Title Pregnancy Scare. It's nice to be surrounded by people who "get" what that would mean for our family. Not going to lie, it's also freaking awesome that a human will not be shoving their heels into my ribs--ever.
- Loved being productive at work. This whole not drinking pop thing has made a huge different for me. It's almost criminal how bad pop was making me feel, and I never knew any different.
- Loved this new game Little Bug loves to play. I nuzzle my nose into the side of his neck and belly laugh really hard, which in turn makes him laugh. He will seek me out and nuzzle the side of his neck into my face to get me to play it with him. My baby seeking cuddles--yes, please!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
My Throat Hurts
Tonight, for a bunch of random reasons, Appa, Little Bug, and I ended up laying three across on the bed in the guest bedroom. Little Bug would straddle one of us and bounce up and down while we made "giddy up" sounds. The other person would have to kick their legs up and down while singing "Oh Susanna" at the top of his or her lungs. Little Bug would switch back and forth between us, but was firm in his instance that everyone play their part. He was laughing so hard that he would continue to laugh even when we would stop. It was a really random activity, but OH SO MUCH FUN.
My throat is killing me from singing/horse sounds, but it was totally worth it.
My little family is awesome.
My throat is killing me from singing/horse sounds, but it was totally worth it.
My little family is awesome.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Row, Row, Row Your Boat
...is forever a special song for me.
When we took custody of Little Bug, he was on this "different" sleep schedule where he would take a third nap from 7-8 pm. So, a few hours after taking custody of him, we found ourselves in the hotel room, trying to figure out how to put him to sleep. Up until then, he had been okay. Once he figured out he was supposed to nap with us, all hell broke loose, and Appa and I stared wide-eyed at each other.
I had prepared for grief and fear from our boy, but in that first moment when it was "GO TIME," I was sort of at a loss. So, I started singing the only song I could think of...."Row, Row, Row Your Boat." I continued to sing it in one long breath for approximately 20 very long minutes until Little Bug fell asleep.
This is funny for a few reasons. 1. I am the oldest of 5 kids. I know tons of songs and lullabies. 2. Row, Row, Row Your Boat has never been a favorite of mine or particularly used in my home growing up.
A quick search on the ever all-knowing w*k*pedia give this insightful analysis of the song.
The lyrics have often been used as a metaphor for life's difficult choices, and many see the boat as referring to one's self or a group with which one identifies. Rowing is a skillful, if tedious, practice that takes perfection but also directs the vessel. When sung as a group, the act of rowing becomes a unifier, as oars must be in sync in a rowboat. The idea that man travels along a certain stream suggests boundaries in the path of choices and in free will. The third line recommends that challenges should be greeted in stride while open to joy with a smile. The final line, "life is but a dream", is perhaps the most meaningful. With a religious point of view, life and the physical plane may be regarded as having equivalent value as that of a dream, such that troubles are seen in the context of a lesser reality once one has awakened. Conversely, the line can just as equally convey nihilist sentiments on the meaninglessness of man's actions.
Ohhh, sooooo meaningful. Clearly I chose this song subconsciously.......
No matter the reason, I rarely sing this song to Little Bug. Like I said, it's just not a song that pops into my head. However, tonight it popped out while I was rocking Little Bug to sleep. Although Little Bug most assuredly will never remember that first song, I will never forget it.
It's like my motherhood theme song.
When we took custody of Little Bug, he was on this "different" sleep schedule where he would take a third nap from 7-8 pm. So, a few hours after taking custody of him, we found ourselves in the hotel room, trying to figure out how to put him to sleep. Up until then, he had been okay. Once he figured out he was supposed to nap with us, all hell broke loose, and Appa and I stared wide-eyed at each other.
I had prepared for grief and fear from our boy, but in that first moment when it was "GO TIME," I was sort of at a loss. So, I started singing the only song I could think of...."Row, Row, Row Your Boat." I continued to sing it in one long breath for approximately 20 very long minutes until Little Bug fell asleep.
This is funny for a few reasons. 1. I am the oldest of 5 kids. I know tons of songs and lullabies. 2. Row, Row, Row Your Boat has never been a favorite of mine or particularly used in my home growing up.
A quick search on the ever all-knowing w*k*pedia give this insightful analysis of the song.
The lyrics have often been used as a metaphor for life's difficult choices, and many see the boat as referring to one's self or a group with which one identifies. Rowing is a skillful, if tedious, practice that takes perfection but also directs the vessel. When sung as a group, the act of rowing becomes a unifier, as oars must be in sync in a rowboat. The idea that man travels along a certain stream suggests boundaries in the path of choices and in free will. The third line recommends that challenges should be greeted in stride while open to joy with a smile. The final line, "life is but a dream", is perhaps the most meaningful. With a religious point of view, life and the physical plane may be regarded as having equivalent value as that of a dream, such that troubles are seen in the context of a lesser reality once one has awakened. Conversely, the line can just as equally convey nihilist sentiments on the meaninglessness of man's actions.
Ohhh, sooooo meaningful. Clearly I chose this song subconsciously.......
No matter the reason, I rarely sing this song to Little Bug. Like I said, it's just not a song that pops into my head. However, tonight it popped out while I was rocking Little Bug to sleep. Although Little Bug most assuredly will never remember that first song, I will never forget it.
It's like my motherhood theme song.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
I'm Pregnant.
You know, the paper kind.
Lately I have been getting that weird "paper pregnant" feeling. (By the way, I hate that term and think it is really lame, but it is appropriate for the context.) We've finished all our paperwork and are now just
w.
a.
i.
t.
i.
n.
g.
Granted, this wait is much different than the wait with Little Bug. With him it was the first and last thing I thought of each day. I would stare at the phone at work. I would daydream excessively. I would cry and wail and get angry and frustrated.
This time, it's been more laid back. I think part of it is because with Little Bug there was always this thought in the back of my head that is was all pretend, that it would never really happen. I'm now fairly confident that Little Bro will indeed "happen." In fact, filling out the paperwork was much more enjoyable this time because I could feel a more tangible connection to Little Bro.
But the daily obsession hasn't been there. In fact, until recently, we were intentionally dragging our feet. We were not ready...and now we are.
And suddenly, I am feeling like Little Bro is imminent and like he is already a part of our family. With that feeling comes the urge to have people validate his existence in our family and my heart. Pregnant women have their large round tummies; I've got a foster care license in my wallet. It's pretty flat.
A few days ago I was sitting in Little Bug's pediatrician's office waiting for the last bit of adoption paperwork to be completed. As I sat there, I thought forward to the time when I will be sitting in that very same chair with Little Bro. I had the overwhelming urge to blurt out to someone that I was his mother right now, too. That I was waiting for my son who is somewhere in the world right this second, living, breathing, laughing, or rather, for the sake of his foster mother, sleeping peacefully. (In fact, I did that very thing hours before we got Little Bug's referral paperwork....the nice man at the counter of the Italian restaurant we were at was very gracious.)
So, safe to say, since we went paper ready, Little Bro has been on my mind.
Ever since we decided to adopt another boy, and not a girl, I've been dreaming about getting my boys matching shirts, some form of Big Brother/Little Brother. I've been looking for weeks now for a "Little Bro" shirt (not "Lil Bro"). My dream was to have Little Bug wear his Big Brother shirt in a picture we would send over to Korea with the smaller shirt for Little Bro. Today, I found not exactly what I was looking for, but something equally as cool.
So I bought them.
I could have waited another month to order, but this way I get super cheap shipping and can have it ready for a care package to go immediately.
And it made me feel AMAZING to order two little shirts for my two little boys.
Because in case you haven't heard, I'm expecting....
Lately I have been getting that weird "paper pregnant" feeling. (By the way, I hate that term and think it is really lame, but it is appropriate for the context.) We've finished all our paperwork and are now just
w.
a.
i.
t.
i.
n.
g.
Granted, this wait is much different than the wait with Little Bug. With him it was the first and last thing I thought of each day. I would stare at the phone at work. I would daydream excessively. I would cry and wail and get angry and frustrated.
This time, it's been more laid back. I think part of it is because with Little Bug there was always this thought in the back of my head that is was all pretend, that it would never really happen. I'm now fairly confident that Little Bro will indeed "happen." In fact, filling out the paperwork was much more enjoyable this time because I could feel a more tangible connection to Little Bro.
But the daily obsession hasn't been there. In fact, until recently, we were intentionally dragging our feet. We were not ready...and now we are.
And suddenly, I am feeling like Little Bro is imminent and like he is already a part of our family. With that feeling comes the urge to have people validate his existence in our family and my heart. Pregnant women have their large round tummies; I've got a foster care license in my wallet. It's pretty flat.
A few days ago I was sitting in Little Bug's pediatrician's office waiting for the last bit of adoption paperwork to be completed. As I sat there, I thought forward to the time when I will be sitting in that very same chair with Little Bro. I had the overwhelming urge to blurt out to someone that I was his mother right now, too. That I was waiting for my son who is somewhere in the world right this second, living, breathing, laughing, or rather, for the sake of his foster mother, sleeping peacefully. (In fact, I did that very thing hours before we got Little Bug's referral paperwork....the nice man at the counter of the Italian restaurant we were at was very gracious.)
So, safe to say, since we went paper ready, Little Bro has been on my mind.
Ever since we decided to adopt another boy, and not a girl, I've been dreaming about getting my boys matching shirts, some form of Big Brother/Little Brother. I've been looking for weeks now for a "Little Bro" shirt (not "Lil Bro"). My dream was to have Little Bug wear his Big Brother shirt in a picture we would send over to Korea with the smaller shirt for Little Bro. Today, I found not exactly what I was looking for, but something equally as cool.
So I bought them.
I could have waited another month to order, but this way I get super cheap shipping and can have it ready for a care package to go immediately.
And it made me feel AMAZING to order two little shirts for my two little boys.
Because in case you haven't heard, I'm expecting....
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Letting Go....
...can mean a lot of things.It can be literal, as in "Today, for the first time ever, Little Bug let go of my hand not once, but twice, to walk on his own for an extended period of time outside. As much as I push him to walk alone, the first time he takes the initiative to drop my fingers, my inclination is to grab him and hold on tight."
Stop growing up, Little Bug. No, I don't mean that. Yes, I do. No, I don't. Sigh.
It can also mean shrugging off those nasty emotions that creep up on you. Like tonight, as I was patting my slumbering child, I got (for the first time ever) irrationally angry at his birth mother for his hypotonia and current struggles (read: and my struggles, which is just shameful of me to think). Little Bug's hypotonia is most likely the result of an undiagnosed genetic disorder, but it could also have been exacerbated significantly by certain choices his birth mother made.
The anger took me by surprise because I've never even considered his birth mother with regards to his special needs in all the time he has been home. In fact, I am sure she has no idea that he even has any special needs. To blame it on her (with no proof or real justification) was a weird feeling...one that I wanted to let go right away.
Because no matter what, it is obvious she loves Little Bug. Remember, 96% of women in her position chose not to spend 9 months pregnant to give their children life. She did the very best she could, and for that I am nothing but grateful.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Dear Me,
It's been 4 days since you last had a DDP. The last time that happened, you were in Korea (and consuming massive amount of diet cola in a delightfully thin shaped can, except for that one unfortunate time you tried to "switch it up" with that Ion drink...that was a bad idea.) Who knows the last time you went 4 days without any sort of pop beverage. It's easily been 3.5 years.
You know all the trouble you have been having concentrating at work lately. The foggy, jittery feeling you get? You know those pangs you get in your tummy? Well, do you think it is a coincidence that you haven't experienced that in 4 days, that your productivity and calm was awesome today?
Tomorrow morning, when you are frustrated and tired by what is shaping up to be a bad night of sleep for the whole family and all you want to do is curl up at your desk with a greasy egg sandwich from 7*11 and a nice, cold bottle of 29 flavor fizzy goodness, remember how it was making you feel for the last few years and remember how a little, good-for-you black tea can do so much better.
Step away from the pretty bottle.
Love,
Me
You know all the trouble you have been having concentrating at work lately. The foggy, jittery feeling you get? You know those pangs you get in your tummy? Well, do you think it is a coincidence that you haven't experienced that in 4 days, that your productivity and calm was awesome today?
Tomorrow morning, when you are frustrated and tired by what is shaping up to be a bad night of sleep for the whole family and all you want to do is curl up at your desk with a greasy egg sandwich from 7*11 and a nice, cold bottle of 29 flavor fizzy goodness, remember how it was making you feel for the last few years and remember how a little, good-for-you black tea can do so much better.
Step away from the pretty bottle.
Love,
Me
[Wail] Appa [Wail] Omma
It's equal parts the best and worst thing I have ever heard when my not-wanting-to-sleep little boy is screaming "Appppppppa" "Ommmmmmmma" over and over in his crib.
It may sound horrible, and I am not sure I could explain it any better than that, but there it is.
It may sound horrible, and I am not sure I could explain it any better than that, but there it is.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
New Year's Resolutions.
Every year I make New Years resolutions. Honestly, I cannot think of a single big, life changing one that I actually stuck with. That's not to say I haven't had resolutions stick, rather, those that stuck were mainly made as a joint resolutions with Appa throughout the years whenever we felt....resolved.
However, I think it is important anyway to consider your personal goals at the beginning of each year. As I have gotten "older," I have learned that goals are only effective if they are the delicate balance between specific enough to achieve and broad enough to adapt and include ways in which to achieve said goals.
So, after much thought and soul searching, these are my 2010 resolutions.
1. Drink less pop. My consumption of a certain 29 flavor diet pop is an absolute physical and mental addiction and is unhealthy for my mind and body, as well as an unneeded financial drain. I would love to end 2010 completely pop free, but I'm trying to be realistic, so my goal is to have pop less than a single bottle a couple times a week. My plan to achieve this is to switch, effective Jan. 1, to tea or coffee only to combat my caffeine addictions. After I lose the urge to have pop, I will start to allow myself the occasional drink if I feel strongly. I am also going to start carrying tea bags in my purse and make more of an effort to carry my metal water bottle with me for easy access to liquid on the go.
2. Keep a cleaner house. My housekeeping skills leave MUCH to be desired and doesn't always give my family the environment that I want, not to mention how much better I feel emotionally and mentally when my house is clean. My resolution is to pick up the house at least 5 nights a week, if not more. This includes sweeping and doing the dishes. I am hoping that these habits will stick quickly and branch out to cleaning every night and adding other daily tasks, such as laundry and wiping down the bathrooms.
3. Speak softer. For whatever reason, I am a loud talker. I hope to be more mindful of this bad habit this year and lower my normal volume by a bit. I haven't figured out a good way to do this, other than to perhaps ask Appa to remind me if my voice gets too loud. However, he already does something similar for my nail biting, and it's really annoying, so perhaps we don't need two of these "cues."
4. Keep my priorities in line. Although my family is my top priority, sometimes my actions probably aren't best serving that. Things like reading and computer time need to be given a back seat to my family time. I am going to try to better achieve this by limiting my computer time to after Little Bug goes to bed on most nights, and limiting my computer time when with Appa to an hour or so.
5. Be healthier. Doesn't everyone want to lose weight? I am the heaviest I have ever been in my whole life, and it is mainly because motherhood has allowed me the perfect excuse to not find time to work out or eat healthier. As my doctor told me yesterday, "the stakes have never been higher." If there was ever a time for me to be healthy, it should be now, for Little Bug and Little Bro. However, this is so daunting, that I will need to take it slowly and make sure habits stick. First up, working out. Some form of exercise each day, in some capacity. We have exercise equipment in our home, so I truly have no excuse. If I start going to bed a bit earlier, I could start getting up in the morning a little earlier and working out for a bit in the morning. Ahh, lofty goals. My ultimate goal is to get back into a mindset where I feel off on the days I don't work out. I used to be there, once upon a non-Little Bug time. As for eating healthier, this will be harder. I have little time (and less motivation) to cook meals, healthy or otherwise, on work days. I am hoping to get back to a menu system that worked well for our family a long time ago to make healthy meals and freeze portions for easy access on the week days. Little Bug deserves more variety than he currently gets. Additionally, I just need to exercise some self control and choose better eating choices for myself. No one will do it for me.
6. Parent a 2-year-old, not just a "special needs child." The 2-year-old child that is currently rolling around on the floor throwing a fit because his dad put him down for a nanosecond is a reminder that my little boy is a bonafide Terrible Two [break here for me to stop said child from pulling the rotating big screen TV from the wall and hanging on it--I am dead serious]. There are a lot of people in our lives, both well meaning and not so much, who have strong feelings about how to deal with limitations like our son has, and it is sometimes easy to get sucked into that (certainly easier than the therapies every night). Ultimately, I know my son, and he CAN do anything and everything with the right amount of practice, strength, motivation, and time. Yes, he has special needs, but he also has the spunk and personality and affection of a 2 year old, and I think he will be better served if Appa and I continue to find that sweet spot between "2 year old" and "special needs child" that makes up our darling Little Bug.
7. Trust myself. 2010 has some exciting changes in store for my family, and honestly, I am terrified that I won't be able to handle it and sometimes listen too much to those close around us who are less than supportive of our choice to adopt again so quickly. I need to trust myself to know that Appa and I will make the right choices for our family so long as we listen to our hearts and minds.
However, I think it is important anyway to consider your personal goals at the beginning of each year. As I have gotten "older," I have learned that goals are only effective if they are the delicate balance between specific enough to achieve and broad enough to adapt and include ways in which to achieve said goals.
So, after much thought and soul searching, these are my 2010 resolutions.
1. Drink less pop. My consumption of a certain 29 flavor diet pop is an absolute physical and mental addiction and is unhealthy for my mind and body, as well as an unneeded financial drain. I would love to end 2010 completely pop free, but I'm trying to be realistic, so my goal is to have pop less than a single bottle a couple times a week. My plan to achieve this is to switch, effective Jan. 1, to tea or coffee only to combat my caffeine addictions. After I lose the urge to have pop, I will start to allow myself the occasional drink if I feel strongly. I am also going to start carrying tea bags in my purse and make more of an effort to carry my metal water bottle with me for easy access to liquid on the go.
2. Keep a cleaner house. My housekeeping skills leave MUCH to be desired and doesn't always give my family the environment that I want, not to mention how much better I feel emotionally and mentally when my house is clean. My resolution is to pick up the house at least 5 nights a week, if not more. This includes sweeping and doing the dishes. I am hoping that these habits will stick quickly and branch out to cleaning every night and adding other daily tasks, such as laundry and wiping down the bathrooms.
3. Speak softer. For whatever reason, I am a loud talker. I hope to be more mindful of this bad habit this year and lower my normal volume by a bit. I haven't figured out a good way to do this, other than to perhaps ask Appa to remind me if my voice gets too loud. However, he already does something similar for my nail biting, and it's really annoying, so perhaps we don't need two of these "cues."
4. Keep my priorities in line. Although my family is my top priority, sometimes my actions probably aren't best serving that. Things like reading and computer time need to be given a back seat to my family time. I am going to try to better achieve this by limiting my computer time to after Little Bug goes to bed on most nights, and limiting my computer time when with Appa to an hour or so.
5. Be healthier. Doesn't everyone want to lose weight? I am the heaviest I have ever been in my whole life, and it is mainly because motherhood has allowed me the perfect excuse to not find time to work out or eat healthier. As my doctor told me yesterday, "the stakes have never been higher." If there was ever a time for me to be healthy, it should be now, for Little Bug and Little Bro. However, this is so daunting, that I will need to take it slowly and make sure habits stick. First up, working out. Some form of exercise each day, in some capacity. We have exercise equipment in our home, so I truly have no excuse. If I start going to bed a bit earlier, I could start getting up in the morning a little earlier and working out for a bit in the morning. Ahh, lofty goals. My ultimate goal is to get back into a mindset where I feel off on the days I don't work out. I used to be there, once upon a non-Little Bug time. As for eating healthier, this will be harder. I have little time (and less motivation) to cook meals, healthy or otherwise, on work days. I am hoping to get back to a menu system that worked well for our family a long time ago to make healthy meals and freeze portions for easy access on the week days. Little Bug deserves more variety than he currently gets. Additionally, I just need to exercise some self control and choose better eating choices for myself. No one will do it for me.
6. Parent a 2-year-old, not just a "special needs child." The 2-year-old child that is currently rolling around on the floor throwing a fit because his dad put him down for a nanosecond is a reminder that my little boy is a bonafide Terrible Two [break here for me to stop said child from pulling the rotating big screen TV from the wall and hanging on it--I am dead serious]. There are a lot of people in our lives, both well meaning and not so much, who have strong feelings about how to deal with limitations like our son has, and it is sometimes easy to get sucked into that (certainly easier than the therapies every night). Ultimately, I know my son, and he CAN do anything and everything with the right amount of practice, strength, motivation, and time. Yes, he has special needs, but he also has the spunk and personality and affection of a 2 year old, and I think he will be better served if Appa and I continue to find that sweet spot between "2 year old" and "special needs child" that makes up our darling Little Bug.
7. Trust myself. 2010 has some exciting changes in store for my family, and honestly, I am terrified that I won't be able to handle it and sometimes listen too much to those close around us who are less than supportive of our choice to adopt again so quickly. I need to trust myself to know that Appa and I will make the right choices for our family so long as we listen to our hearts and minds.
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