Grateful

Sometimes I am so grateful I want to cry. I want to give someone a hug. I want to be able to show my appreciation in some way. Right that moment, as I feel my heart constricting in that pleasant and almost painful way.

This time, I can't. Not yet, anyway.

Little Bro's Korean social worker sent us a CD yesterday. On the disc entitled "my disc" in Hangul, was a 2-minute clip of our son running around the back offices of our Korean agency. Our social worker can be heard trying to bait big star over and over to perform some tricks or bits of cuteness he is clearly famous for. She snapped the video during the ending of what seemed to be a very casual and friendly visit and dropped in unceremoniously onto a disc that she sent to our U.S. agency.

Not something that is usually done. People just aren't lucky enough to get videos snapped by their social workers dropped in the mail to them.

Although we've already been spoiled beyond belief with three separate instances of video, this video was remarkable to us. To see him running and coping some toddler attitude. To hear the affection in her voice and watch his bond with his foster brother and foster mother in action. It's been a very bright spot in a very rough week.

And I can't even say thank you. I can't let our social worker know how much her thoughtful gesture means to us. To most, this was just a little video, but she knew it would be so much more to us.

Other families still wait, with few pictures and zero hopes of ever seeing a video of their child ahead of time. I hope more families can get gifts like this. Perhaps when we do meet her in a few months and express to her just how much her videos and pictures meant to us, more families will start getting updates like this.

But I so wish I could tell her today, while my heart is about ready to burst, how grateful I am that she has my son and both his families in her heart.

Dear Little Boy,

Dear Little Boy on the waiting list with the tears in his eyes and rosy cheeks,

I've been watching you for months. Praying over you in the mornings here at my desk. Hoping a family would see your picture and really see you. This morning, when I saw the matched box over your picture, I gasped out loud with delight. I have no idea who your family is and doubt I ever will, but I'm happy, so VERY happy, that you're getting the chance to be the awesome son I imagined you would be and that I won't be seeing another updated picture of your adorable face.

I secretly imagine you in a brotherhood with my big star, and I image Little Bro high fiving all his friends as they suit up to move on to their new families or get that first care package from the families who have suited up for a long, but totally worth it, wait.

I wonder how many people felt that way about my big star when his matched box went up? If they still think about him, I hope they know he's in for as much love as a family can possibly give him. Knowing how supremely happy my family was when Little Bro "joined" our family makes me rejoice for your unknown family today.

My heart will forever be with you and the rest of your friends on that list.

Get the Hell Outta There

When I got married, and then again when I had a child, one of the best pieces of advice I received was to get away from your family occasionally. I know this might not be good for some people, but it's been wonderful for me.

I take small weekend trips without Appa. I have awesome girls' weekends with my best friend (or sisters) where we gorge ourselves on book chatting and licorice. I come home with a stronger relationships and an absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder appreciation for my favorite man.

And now that I am a mom, I still take time away from that life to refocus on me for a bit. Usually this comes in the form of a hotel stay 20 minutes away with other mamas. We stay up late giggling and crying about life. We support each other. We revel in the break from diapers and potties and sippy cups....even if our conversations are dominated by them.

And when I come home, it's not with a pang of regret that I'm going back to responsibility; it's with a joyful heart that I am SO lucky to have my family AND my friends. I love on my baby like I haven't seen him for a month.

These mini me-breaks allow me to focus. I'm at my best as a wife and mother when I am balanced. Balance, for me, sometimes comes with a reset button that only "me time" can provide.

So when people ask me for advice on motherhood or marriage, my go-to advice is simply this: "Get the hell outta there sometimes." It makes all the time you are there so much better!

And, for the record, I firmly believe my son might have grown in the 18 hours I was away from him this weekend.

Hope is a Thing with Feathers

I'm hopeful.

I don't like it. It makes me nervous. All this stuff I refused to allow myself to even begin to hope for (like Little Bro coming home a little earlier than the worst case scenario) is sprouting in my soul. I can't help it. The evidence it there. It's starting to come together. It truly could happen.

I'm not talking about next week or even next month, but it's seeming more and more possible that I'll be throwing Little Bro a birthday party here, instead of there. With time to spare.

Just typing that makes me want to go back and delete it. I have a serious problem hoping for things.

But deleting it won't make it untrue.

Because I am hopeful.

Dear Little Bug

This morning, right before you stubbed your toe and wanted me to kiss it better, you took my breath away with how grown up you have become. Each time you would open the bathroom door and yell "HI" or "BYE" or "BOOOOO!" I marveled at how your face has thinned out and your eyes seem so much more mature as you raise one eyebrow....waiting for my response. In that moment you seemed every bit the 3-year-old you are and so far away from the little baby I used to cuddle in my arms for hours at a time. It was exciting and sad, all at once.

Then you stubbed your toe. I don't want to say "I told you so," but there is a reason your mama doesn't want you slamming doors....and it's not just because of the pictures hanging on the wall.

Although your toe was fine, your face screwed up into sadness and injustice and you insisted on sitting on my lap. There we were, sitting on the closed toilet while you moaned and cuddled into me and I kissed your tiny big toe over and over.

And I realized that no matter how angular your face gets or how high those expressive eyes go, somewhere in there will always be my cuddle bug baby.

And I love you so much I can't stand not to write about it sometimes.

Love, Mama

Let's Talk About Bodily Fluids: The Saddest Story of Them All

This morning I woke up in my husband's arms.

That's happened only a handful of time in the last year. Those nice mornings are usually a result of Little Bug being put down by a babysitter, because on those nights, inexplicably, he does not get up and come to our room during the night. We think it might be because he doesn't know that we are in our bedroom, which is kind of sad (but still, I like having my bed to share with just the hubby sometimes).

After a couple moments of cuddle time, I got the urge to check on Little Bug and bring him into our room for the morning snuggles.

When I opened his bedroom door I was happily surprised to see him sitting in the middle of his floor next to a book. He still needs to work on independent play, so the idea that he woke up and chose to enjoy a book rather than my bed warmed my heart.

What did not warm my heart was the shell-shocked, scared expression on my baby's face as he weakly pointed towards his step stool and whimpered. I followed his finger and saw a huge pile of vomit all over his stool. Suddenly I realized it was everywhere....all over his bed, his stool, his floor. He had been throwing up--a lot--and clearly trying to get out of bed to get to us. For whatever reason (I think fear and shock), he just stopped near his door and waited for us.

The worst part of this (and it takes a lot to be the worst part of the amount of vomit that was all over that room) was the fact that a lot of the vomit piles were dry.

He'd been sitting like that, paralyzed, for a while. Probably at least an hour, and in my heart, I fear more.

We went into disaster mode, me whisking him away for a bubble bath while Appa took care of his bedroom (which would cause him to shake and whimper every time we walked past it). It was heartbreaking to see how long it took for him to get comfortable and feel safe again. He's running a fever, but otherwise has been able to hold things down and doesn't seem emotionally scarred by his bedroom now that it is cleaned.

But his little face when I opened the door after he had been waiting so long for me is something I won't forget for a long time.

Giveaway Winner

Thank you to everyone who participated in the drawing to help Tracy and Emi Faith. I know she has been overwhelmed with support in every way, and I am happy to say she will be able to bring a companion to Korea for support. It was affirming to see people come together in support of strangers. In a world that sucks in so many ways, it's nice to see reminders that there is also so, so, so much good and love here, too.

As for the winners of the seriously cool Uncle Goose Hangul blocks that I have been salivating over (which, incidentally, are 20% off from a store whose owners have a heart for adoption) and the item of their choice from Kimchi Keepsakes, I entered everyone into Random.org (and added the additional entries for Facebook, Twitter, blogs, and additional blog donations). The winners are Stefan and Michelle! I'll send the blocks your way; and when you find something you want from Kimchi Keepsakes (they do custom orders, too), just ask the owners to invoice me.Thanks again to everyone who helped a very worthy family. And to Tracy....HAPPY 11 MONTHS!

A Fact of My Life

Scene: Mommy/son dinner.

Very nice 30-something waitress who had been flirting with Little Bug all evening: "He's simply adorable. Are you babysitting?"

Me, without a second of hesitation or annoyance: "Nope, he's mine!"

End scene.

The fact of the matter is I'll always get this question. And the fact of the matter is it no longer bothers me or trips me up.

He's mine. I'm his. And I don't mind who asks.

NMR 1:10

It is perhaps sad that on day 10 of my first new month resolution I almost caved.

This month's resolution is never to leave a dirty dish in the sink when I go to bed at night. Perhaps for most people this is intuitive, but for me.....dishes sometimes spend the night (or occasionally two) hanging out in the sink. It's bad, I know. So in keeping with my manageable NMR goal, I figured an easy and simple start would be to do the dishes every night. What doesn't fit in the dishwasher gets hand washed.

I've been doing okay the last week. Because I don't cook (a more lofty NMR for the future), we never have huge amounts of dishes. It only takes a few minutes for me to get the dishes done on any given night (after Little Bug is in bed, of course), and I really like the satisfaction of starting an evening dinner with a clean sink.

But last night it just didn't happen, for whatever reason. I was working late after the boys had gone to bed and as I got up to turn out the lights I saw the sink.

Full of dishes.

At 11:50.

And I turned off the lights and started to walk upstairs. I mean, one day off wouldn't hurt me. But I managed to guilt myself into turning around, turning back on the lights, and loading the dishwasher just before Midnight. It may seem ridiculously small, but I am a lover of taking the easy way out, so this was a new one for me.

Of course, I forgot to actually turn the dishwasher on last night, but I'm still counting it as a win.

Boo!

Before I had a child there were certain recurring daydreams I would have. Some were big, like Christmas mornings or our family days. Others (and in some ways, more treasured) daydreams were more mundane, like reading my son a book while rocking him to sleep or taking him outside to play in the snow.

A major recurring daydream would come to me in the mornings as I was getting ready for work. At those moments, with the day not yet cluttered with meddling volunteer editors and meetings of various degrees of frustration, I would style my hair and apply my makeup quietly (a daydream of mine now) while imagining my little son running happily up and down our hallway, fresh with sleep and excitement for the day. I would imagine taking a minute to peek around the bathroom door to watch him dart in and out of the rooms, dragging some blanket behind him. I'd imagine him bringing some toy cars into the bathroom, vrooming them around my bare feet as I good-naturedly swatted them away.

I'd think of this nearly every morning. Long after my darling Little Bug came home and it became obvious that the hallway running wasn't happening right away. I knew it would happen someday.

And then I stopped daydreaming about it. Probably because all my brain power in the mornings is now focused on whether I can shower and dry my hair before Little Bug enters Threat Level Midnight and starts flushing things down the toilet.

But the last few days Appa has been home from travel, allowing me to blow dry my hair on consecutive days (gasp), and I've started noticing something.

Little Bug, running up and down our hall while his laughter echos into the bathroom. Little Bug, peeking around the corner of the door and yelling "BOO" before dissolving into fits of giggles. Little Bug, his hands full of ahzuhs and pillow (a new but beloved friend), along with a couple "choo choo trains," shuffling around my feet as I try to apply my makeup.

To be sure, it's a slight pain when I'm rushing to get ready and he keeps stealing my perfume out of my door or is using his toothbrush as a broom. But it's also one of those moments that I always dreamed about finally coming true. And when I realized that this morning, everything seemed fairly near perfect.

Bee Bim My Head

This week things finally started moving again in the adoption world….things that actually impact Little Bro’s time lines. The door that has been shut since April is finally creaking open. It’s been so long since it closed that I find myself surprised to see it actually opening again (not that I ever thought it wouldn’t).

And it’s driving me to distraction.

Heaven forbid I attempt to work this week, even though we are chasing a big print deadline and I have hundreds of pages left to proof. Heaven forbid I be required to do anything that forces me away from the computer for more than a few hours….what if someone else hears something about anything!?!

Besides the cautious but genuine interest in how the process in Korea plays out over the next few weeks (and I know I do it to myself by getting invested in message boards), we recently heard that our agency is going to be getting a real update on Little Bro soon. One with development information and medical information and all sorts of stuff that actually makes a difference in how we go about preparing his transition (because how many teeth he has really doesn’t). For the record, we’re not worried about him, nor do we think that anything is amiss, but the last time we officially heard anything more than what pictures can tell us was in April 2010…when he was 9 months old. He’s 18 months old now, so it’s be nice to get a check in.

I have no idea when this information will come to me. I don't know if it will be a week or a month. It could be either. I'm prepared for either.

But one thing I have learned about myself is that I can be very patient when I have low expectations, but when I have high expectations (for example, when I know I am going to be getting some information), I'm about as patient as Little Bug is when he wants his blasted motorized train to "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

Poor, patient Appa. He's living in a house full of lunatics.

So I sit this afternoon. Unable to really commit to work or whatever when my head is mushing around with excitement and impatience. The high will wear off soon enough. The information will either come quickly or it won't, either way I'll get over it. The EP situation will lull for another month. My proofs will get done....

And someday none of this will matter.

Except for the proofs, of course. As good as I am getting at being a crazy time lines stalker, I'd like to keep my day job.

You Kiss Your Mama With that Mowff?

My son is pretty delayed in his speech, and what he can say is often only intelligible to his nearest and dearest....at least accurately intelligible. But he is in a vocab explosion right now!

Take for example the word "shirt." Little Bug now says "shirt" a lot. He is big into identifying things all over the body, which is AWESOME and not something I will stifle, even in public.

Even though he can't pronounce the "r" sound............

And, as full disclosure, I did happen to do something recently and yelled out "SHOOT."

Little Bug also changes a lot of "oo" sounds to an "i" sound.

Please, no one tell him to "tuck" something.

A Selfless Love

Little Bug's foster family has always been a big presence in our lives. We got the unique chance to spend a significant amount of time with them while we were in Korea, not just interacting with Little Bug, but together as adults. I'll never forget sitting on the floor as our social worker translated all the things the foster family had brought and made for our son, sobbing as she pulled out a little white baby gown, mits, and socks tied with a green bow that she told us was the outfit he had come to them in, lovingly preserved. A tangible symbol of how much he was loved and cherished from the moment he entered their home. Little Bug's foster mother gave me (another) tissue and grabbed my hand, holding it tightly as our hearts both broke and rejoiced. That was the moment when I knew this woman and her family were going to be part of our lives forever.

Since then we have shared pictures and e-mails and gifts and messages. They've cheered Little Bug on through all this therapy, sending messages of encouragement and pride. They've even met Little Bro (in passing at the agency)! We've had a chance to see and share the joys their family has continued to experience.

They are, in every way but blood (and that seems so insignificant anyway), family to us.

Last weekend they sent us a video that was aired on Korean television promoting fostering. It was a "Day in the Life" video of their family. Appa, Little Bug, and I excitedly watched it over breakfast.

Within the first 2 minutes tears were rolling down my face. It was so overwhelming to see Little Bug's first home "in action" instead of just in pictures. To recognize the toys and clothes and pillows and couches and green tub from his pictures. To see the outside of the building I have always wondered about.

Within 5 minutes I was openly crying. Pictures of Little Bug were popping up all over the place, both as a focus and in the background. It was clear that his family still had pictures of him (and their other babies) all over their home. Especially touching were the number of pictures from our home...proving that their love and interest didn't end the day he left them.

Within 7 minutes, around the point where the video showed a picture book I had sent as a gift, I was trying hard to stifle the sobs that were threatening. Little Bug was starting to look at me oddly.

At 10 minutes, when the video ended, I excused myself and went and sat on my bathroom floor and sobbed, racking sobs that shook my body. It was overwhelming to see the places and people that made up so much of the first year of my son's life, but to see the continued heartbreak these people who I love face willingly, over and over, was too much for me to bear that morning.

It was inspiring and terribly sad and an amazing gift.

It also opened up a raw nerve that has been tingling for months, ever since Little Bro's foster family send us their gift of pictures. I've poured over those pictures and videos, and while I love the ones of Little Bro, the ones that speak most to me are the (hundreds) family candids. The love Little Bro's foster family feels for him as a son is evident....and very reminiscent of Little Bug's foster family. Watching this video, I saw Little Bro's foster mother's daily life, her commitment and total devotion to this little boy she knows she has to say good bye to. And she does it anyway.

And it kills me to know what's coming for her. Not only the moment of the goodbye, but the weeks and months after. It's been making me ill for months when I think about it.

There's nothing I can do about it, really. I can't stop the pain from coming, but I can make sure she never has to feel the pain of the unknown once he leaves her. This quote from Little Bug's foster mother comes to mind:

"I always speak with my husband that being a foster mom is a blessing to me. ...One day i hope that I can meet these children again. Because I want to say to them, "Thank you for growing up well.""

In just a few+ months, she will finally get her first chance to see one of her babies again when we bring Little Bug back to Korea. I'm so excited about that. Although continuing a relationship with my sons' foster families is important for them, it's equally as important as a way to honor these families and the sacrifice they have made.

And, quite simply, I love them, and I want them to know that.