More

Yesterday was Little Bro's 14 month birthday. Overall, I am really proud of how we've handled the wait thus far (because as far as we are concerned, we've been waiting 4 months, not 2, thank you very much unhelpful state employee). Not just publicly, but truly, in our everyday lives. Appa and I find ourselves at the oddest times talking about Little Bro, wistful and bummed that it will be so much longer until he can come home, but honestly, I'm not falling apart over it. It is what it is. My mantra of patience is finally starting to work.

Now I am just selfish.

I have close to 50 unique pictures of my son and close to 15 minutes of video. That's more than I ever in my wildest dreams would have hoped for. It's a blessing, and I am trying really hard to remember that.

Because I want more.

Our agency recently stated that each child got pictures taken on their 1st birthday and that we could expect to get those within 6 weeks. At 8 weeks out, I started to feel cheated. You know, because it wasn't like personal friends of ours actually met with him on his birthday and took amazing pictures that grace frames all over our house and a video I watch nearly every day. Yet, I still have had the audacity this week to feel bad for myself that I didn't get any other pictures from the agency.

Some friends recently received pictures that the foster families had taken and brought in to be sent over. So me, of course, I start wanting this, too. Greedy, greedy me.

Little Bro isn't even going in for a check up again until next month, but already I can tell that I will be slightly on edge for weeks after in the hopes of getting new pictures. Pictures that may or may not come because we're saving our allotted update requests for the months closer to his arrival.

All I want is a picture of him in his "Little Brother" shirt.....okay, that's not all I want.

This is just pure greed on my part, and I know it. I can publish this entry and go spend a significant amount of time studying the many, many faces my adorable son has. In fact, I plan on doing just that. Many parents can't do that...get nothing during their wait. I know that if I don't see or hear another stitch of Little Bro until we meet face to face, I am still going to be considered abnormally lucky in all of this.

Which is why I try to keep this green-eyed monster under wraps.

But Little Bro, I want you to know that although I am trying to handle the long and arduous wait for you with grace I hope you are one day proud of, you're always on my mind and in my heart. My lack of whining is not because I don't care.

It's because I care way too much.

Little Victories

One of the special things about parenting a child with special needs (and no, I am not sure why it's on my mind so much lately) is the opportunity to learn to celebrate the little victories. It becomes a part of your daily life.

And it makes the whole day a little more beautiful and a little harder to take for granted.

Tonight Little Bug got a huge popsicle all to himself. We handed it to him, strapped him into his wagon, and left him to his own devices as we took an evening stroll. This has never, ever been a reality for us before.

He ate the whole thing by himself without dropping it or setting it down once. Every last drop (that didn't end up dripping onto his pants, that is). Messy, I can handle. Independence, I adore.

And I'll be awful sometimes
Weakened to my knees
I'll learn to get by
On the little victories
- Little Victories by Matt Nathanson (the soundtrack of my life)

Bracing Myself

I'm not exactly sure if a recent realization makes me a monster or a saint....or perhaps just human, but the truth is, I'm slightly disappointed that Little Bug isn't going to be wearing leg braces anymore.

He's been graduated out of them, which is an amazing accomplishment because our goal was to have him transition to smaller braces by kindergarten, so to have him transitioning (and skipping the mid-sized braces entirely for just a small insert into normal shoes) before age 3 is nothing short of a miracle.

I'm thrilled, of course. Proud, happy, relieved, etc. etc.

But honestly, there is a part of me that isn't all those things. I realized I have used those braces for a number of purposes.

1. I use them as a nonverbal cue to strangers that my kid has some special needs. People look at my kid all Forrest-Gumped-up and make allowances for him, allowances maybe they should or should not make. This used to annoy me, but now it honestly makes it easier when out in a larger group setting.

I'm not saying I'm all for kids who have special needs to have a label stamped on their forehead, but the reality is that it's easier to assimilate in a social setting if people know going in that there might be some extra care needed with my kid. Have the big braces do the introductions is a lot easier than me saying, "Hi, Little Bug has balance issues and might not play at the same level as your kid. Please make sure your child doesn't push mine over, because mine will hit yours in the face.....Nice to meet you." I'm pretty sure this isn't 100% morally okay to feel this way, but it's the truth.

2. I also realized that I look at Little Bug's braces as a badge of honor. I'm so tremendously proud of the hard work he endures daily to get where he is, and the braces are a visual manifestation of that. People can see that he has physical limitations, and yet, watch him chase after a goose or walk through the aisles of a store. I want people to be impressed with my kid, because I sure as hell am. I'm pretty sure that is not 100% okay, either.

Without the braces, I worry that strangers will see my big-for-his-age son and expect him to act like a normal 3 year old would. I worry they will make assumptions about him that I'm not comfortable with once they start interacting with him or see him wobble with his not-quite-all-there-yet balance. Even more, I worry about the reactions he'll get. The surprise or confusion on the face of a stranger playmate or parent at the children's museum or swimming pool when he trips over his own two feet or can't follow his new friend up a set of stairs. I worry about when he gets old enough to start feeling self conscious.

I know these concerns are contradictory, but the truth is Little Bug won't be the only one adjusting to a world without leg braces, and that makes me feel a little ridiculous. Or human.

I'm not sure.

From the Mouth of Someone's Babe

Tonight Appa and I took Little Bug to our local neighborhood park. Little Bug inevitably veered toward the sand area where two little girls were playing. After dumping sand on himself for a while, he noticed one of the girls, who I assumed was Korean and about 10 years old, was making mud with water from an old bubble container.

He went into the zone, chanting "bubbas, babbas, bubbas" as he went in for the steal. Me, being the responsible mama that I am, cut him off at the pass and tried to modify his plans to simply saying "hello."

The girl was sweet, but the following conversation threw me for a mini loop.

Her: "Is he Korean?"
Me: "Yes, he was born in Korea."
Her: "He must be stupid."
Me: "What?"
Her: "He must be stupid."
Me: "What? No, he's smart."
Her: "Stupid. 'Bubba' is Korean for stupid."
Me: "Oh, no. He doesn't know that Korean word....he wants your bubbles."

At this point, I am feeling a bit silly. Clearly I misheard her. I also deep down wish that I had known enough Korean to know what that word sounded like to her.

Her (contemplative, as if I have somehow confirmed something for her): "Are you his mom?"
Me: "Yes."
Her: "Oh....you don't look like him."
Me: "No, I don't. We adopted him from Korea."

Side note: I think it is silly when parents take offense to this question and having to say the word "adoption." Adoption isn't a four-letter word. I'm proud of it, and if asked in a respectful way, I have no problem confirming what is clearly obvious.

Her: "Was he abandoned?"

Whoa. I was not expecting the conversation to go there with this little girl. I consider myself pretty cool under pressure when I get probing or intrusive comments from adults, but looking at this young girl, with nothing but childlike curiosity in her question, I was left tongue-tied. I wanted so much to say something I would be proud for Little Bug to hear, even if he is too young now to understand my words and their implications. I saw no reason to brush this little girl off as I delicately answered the question.

Me: "No. His birth mom just could not take care of a baby. So we adopted him and are his mommy and daddy."
Her: "Why couldn't she take care of him? Did she not have enough money?"

Seriously, who is teaching this young lady critical thinking? If this was an adult who was still needling me, I would finally be telling her to politely shove it, but I couldn't do that to this young lady. How to explain the injustice of adoption while protecting my son's privacy while using age and socially appropriate words for a 10-year-old stranger making mud patties in the bocce ball court?

Me: "She just could not take care of a baby. So we are taking care of him now and are his parents. We love him very much."

With that, she simply nodded and unceremoniously got up and went to fill her bubble container with more water, and Little Bug wandered off to the swings.

And I'm left now mulling it over.

Because I have been preparing for years for these questions. I've fielded tons of them, quite literally from the moment we stepped on our front porch with Little Bug in our arms. I've defended and deflected and shared. And it always works out because ultimately, people know when to back off, and if they don't, I can write them off. Adults see and accept shades of gray in the world.

But children, their honesty and black and white lenses they view the world with is what Little Bug will face. The "why" is hard for me to answer....how will I even prepare him to answer it for himself when I'm not in the bocce ball court with him? When he hasn't had years to practice and can't even spell the words he's expected to say.

Maybe that's not even what has my heart constricting tonight. I feel like I can prepare him to the best of my ability. What I really am sad about is that ultimately, his own childlike curiosity won't be satisfied either. There is no answer good enough. I know how that lack of answer made me feel tonight, so I can't begin to imagine how it will one day make him feel.

When his heart is also asking "why?"

Love

Today I woke up overcome by how much I love my sons and husband. It swirled around my brain while I woke my baby up and even prompted me to carry his 37 lbs into school, just for a couple seconds of extra cuddled. It's settling nicely in my heart as I wait excitedly for my husband to call with his "Good Morning" call. It's putting a jolt in my body as I look at Little Bro's picture and imagine just how cute he must be in person.

I've got work pouring out of my ears, but I'm so very happy this morning to be so in love.

Family. Work. Sleep.

I've spent the last two weeks "hibernating."

In the last 7 days, I got promoted at work. Although this is a very cool thing, it also comes with a client and projects that need significant attention...like yesterday. I also flew across the country for a weekend. I hosted my family for a couple days and then turned around and started hosting my little sister. I attempted (and basically failed) to spend some quality time with my husband, as it has been nearly a month since we had a quality night to ourselves. I raised my kid and he's doing great.

So, by hibernating, I mean that I've drained my life down to the bare essential priorities lately.

Family. Work. Sleep.

I've barely uploaded (or taken) pictures of Little Bug this month. Blogging has been reduced to the barest minimum to preserve my family memories. Facebook is hit or miss. E-mail? What's that?

It's felt odd, but not nearly as odd as I expected it to feel. I don't FEEL disconnected or left out, I simply miss those people who I connect with through blogs and Facebook.

The people, not the medium.

The online community is here to stay in my life. I have made wonderful friendships and will continue to cultivate new ones that will enrich my life and my family's life. Am I going to throw that away? Not a chance. But, I've sort of enjoyed shutting the computer at night and curling up (in bed!) with a book. I've enjoyed turning away from my computer at work to proof a large project with only my iPod, and not Facebook notifications, as my companion. Yahoo? It's about to be a thing of the past.

I'm going to continue to find this balance that seems like it could really start working for me right now with some tweaking. Balancing what (or to be blunt, who and why) my online priorities with my basic life priorities.

Family. Work. Sleep.

Seeing Him

My sister and I had a long talk recently about seeing your children, the very physical idea that although we look at our kids all day long, we sometimes stop seeing them. I think a big problem I had with my attachment to Little Bug was that although my eyes would meet his, my mind was far away. I wasn't in the moment with him, and I think that although he got plenty of time looking into my eyes, what he probably saw was far away thoughts and not a mama's adoring love.

I've been really mindful of this lately. I make time each afternoon to gaze into my kid's eyes as we play on a bed or heap of pillows. I try to take a moment or two in the car after I buckle him in to look into his eyes and smile a really genuine smile. I make sure that I am talking to him, not at him.

I'm hoping to master this ability to see my child each day before Little Bro comes home. I want to be able to be more than just a mom for my children; I want to be a mom to them. I want Little Bug to know, even at his little toddler age, that what he has to say is important to me and that I love being in his presence.

It's not easy, especially when I am tired, bored, depressed, angry, busy, or any number of the other factors that shape my day. It's so much easier to look at him and talk at him without taking the time to shift my energy into him.

But he's the most important little person in my life, and I want him to grow up seeing that.

Write and Ye Shall Recieve

Blah blah writer's block blah blah BODILY FLUIDS.

Dear Me,

When you treat bodily fluids in a flip manner, they will come back to show you who is boss. Just ask the pair of cream dress pants you put on this morning that are now covered in blood from Little Bug's seemingly random "good morning" nose bleed...or the other pair of dress pants you put on to replace the bloody dress pants that are also now also covered in blood from the encore.

Lame.

Sincerely Yours,
Me

I Wanted to Write About....

The great thing about this blournal is that I allow myself complete control (or lack of) when it comes to consistency. If I make multiple entries a day, that's okay with me. If I don't have anything to say for a week, that is okay, too.

The last few days have been awesome, but as I sat down to write about them, the words were stilted. Too much and too little, all at once.

I wanted to write about how hard and lonely and just off it felt to have Appa away for 2 long weeks and how proud I was of myself for not only surviving, but actually creating a great few weeks for both myself and my boy. I actually enjoyed myself.

I wanted to write about wine and girlfriends and how thankful I am for both.

I wanted to write about leaving my boys at 4 am, just hours after Appa got home. The conflicting emotions that ran through my heart as Little Bug woke up and wailed for me, rejecting his beloved Appa over and over. That's never happened before, and I'd be lying if said I didn't replay the scene over and over again with some measure of joy that my role as mama was finally meaning something special and exclusive to Little Bug.

I wanted to write about how special it is to have a best friend like Ali(ce). Spending time with her is like stepping back into my past, only as my present self. It is comfortable and fun and leaves me happy. Just really, truly happy. Even just a few hours. And how she bought Little Bro a crinkle lion lovie to send in a care package, only to exchange it for something else when she saw my latest care package post with the same crinkle lion already included that I had purchased without knowing she had bought him one. Ha.

I wanted to write about holding my infant nephew in my arms and being absolutely terrified. I'm the oldest of five and have held more than my fair share of babies, but now that I am a mother, the fragile nature of an infant terrified me.

I wanted to write about how kissing his head felt like warm peaches.

I wanted to write about laying on the couch for hours while Itty Bitty slept on my chest. How is felt so wonderful, and yet, it didn't make me wish for that moment with my own babies. In fact, the limiting nature of providing for an infant actually made me secretly glad that I didn't have to go through that…although it made me feel about a million times more grateful when I thought about my sons' foster mothers putting in all the time and effort and sacrifice for children they knew they might never see grow up. That makes me so sad and so grateful.

I lied. There was a part of me that wanted to know if kissing Little Bug and Little Bro's heads felt like warm peaches. I hope their birth mothers were able to have that experience for themselves.

I wanted to write about my long, honest, candid talks with my sister….the one who was never supposed to be my confidant. The relief that comes with knowing one other person in the world who is dealing with many of the exact same issues as you are…What a wonderful life surprise.

I wanted to write about getting my nephew addicted to Pororo and my little sister addicted to Kdramas. I'm not sure why that brings me such amusement.

I wanted to write about family and love and friendship and life, but I just don't have the words.

Perhaps my kid needs to puke again to break this writer's block.

Loved by Many

One of the phrases we always use for our letters to Little Bug is "Never doubt that you are loved by many." I'm positive it will go in every letter or card I ever write to him, and I will probably whisper it in his ear on his graduation day, his wedding day, and all the other wonderful days in his future.

It's become our subtle way of including his other families into our special moments and parental love, the reminder that his birth family and foster family are still in the world, actively loving him specifically. There is so much loss wrapped into our triad of families, but at the very root of it all, the reality is that our son has more people loving him with a passion only a father or mother could know than most people do.

And that's beautiful.

Right now, our family has a lot of contact with Little Bug's foster family. They are excellent people who love our son intensely. We bonded with them not only through our mutual love of Little Bug, but through a mutual fear of his special needs. In Korea, our social worker told us they were terribly nervous that we would be disappointed in Little Bug or not love him as much because he was so far delayed. When we started communicating after we returned from Korea, they told us the way we looked at him with such love despite his obvious delays gave them the comfort to let him go.

Since then, they've been they've been our partners in parental joy. They leave comments on our blog and send us e-mails cheering on his little victories and sending reminders of their love. They truly are members of our extended family forever.

Recently they left us a beautiful comment on one of our posts. It's been rolling around in my heart ever since, this beautiful other family who loves my son as a son. I know that somewhere my son's birth mother is loving him with a mother's love as well.

I'm not narrow minded enough to think Little Bug's adoption is just rainbows and pink hearts, because for each of these families to experience falling in love with Little Bug as a son, they also had to experience losing him. Little Bug, although the recipient of so much love, is also the victim twice over. I know that.

But it doesn't take away the fact that love is beautiful, and that being loved by as many as love Little Bug is a unique and special thing.

Let's Talk About Bodily Fluids on Monday Morning

I'm starting to take personal offense to bloody noses.

After an epic battle to trim Little Bug's nails last night, I believe he still managed to scrap up the inside of his nose this morning enough to cause gushing blood.....at least, that is what I am guessing. I didn't see it start.

I just woke up to a drip, drip, drip on my face. Little Bug was sitting above me in bed with a radiant good morning smile on his cute face....that was completely covered in blood.

Just like his jammies.
Just like my jammies.
Just like our pillows and sheets.
Just like my wall (?!).

I didn't have a bath for him or laundry for us budgeted in my morning routine, so needless to say the morning started off on the wrong foot.

I'm hoping this means I have gotten my "bodily fluids horror" of the week out of the way nice and early. It's all dry sailing from here!

My Grin

Even close to 2 years into this motherhood gig, I still have moments of ebbs and flows. Honestly, I have a lot of moments where I don't 100% love being a mom. For whatever reasons it might be at the time, sometimes it's hard for me to enjoy everything about the precious time I have with my son.

For a variety of reasons, I've been thinking a lot about my post adoption depression lately and the impact it had on my attachment to Little Bug and his attachment to me. Over the past month or so, I've challenged myself to be less complacent with the relationship my son and I have, because when it comes right down to it, I wasn't 100% happy with where it was. I've been actively working on attachment games and activities. Even though we're well enough attached to each other already, I realized there is always room for improvement. Over the last 2 weeks, I have noticed a marked increase in the ease and physicality of our relationship.

And today it manifested in spades. Little Bug and I had a wonderful day filled with choo choos, animals, and more choo choos. All throughout the day we would turn to me and flash this radiant smile...not directed at whatever we were doing or seeing, but a smile clearly just for me. He would crawl on me and hug me for no reason. He spent nearly an hour dragging me from toy to toy, wanting only to play with me.

And better yet, I loved every second of it. It was hot, crowded, tiring, and done all without Appa, and I didn't look at the clock once. I enjoyed every moment of my role as mother today. That's been happening a lot lately, too.

Tomorrow might suck and I might want to tell my kid to "shut up" again, but those days will happen no matter what. I just don't want to forget today...ever.

Shut Up

Little Bug has taken a liking to the front seat of our car and the keys. Last weekend Appa let him play "pretend driver" in our car, and although this was not the first time he has played this game, Little Bug acted like he was some possessed kid on crack. It was so funny and so very odd after a solid 10 minutes of mania.

Since then, Little Bug has M-E-L-T-E-D D-O-W-N every time we go out to the car and his horrible mama forces him into his car seat. The keys in the ignition are basically the cruelest taunt to him, and he wails and signs "please" for at least the first 2 minutes of each car ride.

It's awesome.

Last night, after an afternoon of everything being a little off, I drove the 8 minutes drive home from the big box store with Little Bug yelling (not crying) the whole time about the blasted keys. I even had to use my loud, forceful voice, which I have only ever used a handful of times with him....to no avail other than making me feel worse. When I parked in our driveway and tried to get him out of his car seat instead of giving him the keys (yelling doesn't equal getting privileges, which he knows), he got right in my face and started screaming in my ear...about the stupid keys.

I whipped my head around and formed the words.......

"SHUT UP."

Yes, I was actually going to tell my 2.5-year-old to shut up. Forcefully. Right in his chubby baby face. With the lips that I kiss him goodnight with.

Thankfully, as the first sound began to come out of my mouth, I bit my tongue and took a deep breath. Saying that wouldn't have been appropriate, kind, loving, or a good example....all things I should be as a mother.

Instead, I told him (again) that his behavior was not appropriate, took him inside, and let him wail it out on his own until some stickers caught his eye and the keys were forgotten until this morning.

Even though I didn't actually say it, I felt bad that it even almost happened. What kind of mama tells her child to shut up?

Flower Power

Last night, as I sat barefoot on the grass at the botanical gardens in a work dress listening to a sub par 60s cover band while my child gnawed on a giant pickle, I fancied myself a bit of a hippie nowadays. Little Bug and I are dining alfresco while enjoying outdoor concerts at least once, often twice a week. I've embraced the "dirt is our friend and not our enemy" to the extreme. I didn't even wash my hair yesterday (although that was not something I was happy about). *

And I am wearing my 37 lbs child...everywhere.

I never paid attention to baby wearing before becoming a mom. It's a great tool for attachment, so it became a priority for us, although when Little Bug got home, he spent more time working on tummy muscles than riding aboobah. We used our carrier for the occasional outing with great success, but it's only been in the last month that I have started LOVING wearing my child.

I wear him everywhere. Into the big box stores when I could be using a cart. Into the library. All around the botanical gardens. I love the intimate interaction and the comfort he seems to feel on my back. When he rests his tiny head on my back or lightly grasps my arms as he watches the world around him from the safety of my back, I just feel so happy...so connected to him.....so his mom.

I have noticed a marked increase in his affection toward me since I started wearing him more. He has often maintained distance with me, partly, I think, because I am the therapy slave driver and boundary enforcer and other people are in his life only to play with him. It's always stung to see me passed over for a different lap, a different side.

Last night, instead of sitting on the grass like he normally does, he crawled into my lap and ate his dinner from that perch. He even lounged back and laid his head on my reclined chest a number of times. He was so content to be with me.

When he was done I took him to the train garden, but all he really wanted was to be back aboobah. So he rejected the choo choos for me, snuggled into my back, and we walked for an hour exploring parts of the garden that are less accessible for little feet......all the while listening to hippie music wafting through the air.

*Reading this back, I probably have a pretty offensive stereotyping of hippies going on. Good thing they are all about love. No offense is meant to those who love the flower power. It's just not my thing.

Late for Work, Again

I was 5 minutes late for work today....again. More often than not, I'm a little late for work, although because I get in before most people and can stay late to make up the time, it's not a huge deal.

The reason I am usually late, however, IS a big deal.

I watch my kid while he sleeps.

After I get up and get about half way through my morning routine (and this is on a good day when my routine is working), I end up gravitating back toward my bed and to the warm little baby cuddled in the middle (yes, we are still closet co-sleepers). I lay down on the very edge of the bed and put my face right next to his. I stroke his hair or his pudgy cheek or the little sliver of belly protruding from his jammies. I don't think of much during those 5-10 minutes I am "wasting"...

...other than that spending time staring at the most amazing miracle in my life for 10 minutes I should be using to get ready for work is absolutely not a waste of my time.