Goodbye, Old Friend

It's been a year and 2 days since I posted publicly here. It's been a hard year and a great year, but I haven't wanted to share here because I felt very self conscious after getting some anonymous comments a while back (that, when looking at site meter, were no longer anonymous). I suck at many, many things, but I try very hard to be the type of friend who while I might not e-mail or call you very often, but I won't mock you or your social media presence behind your back, and I will consider you a friend until you tell me otherwise. This was a place I allowed myself to share pretty vulnerable stuff, and it really messed with my head for a while when I realized how my blog was being perceived by some people I considered friends.

I've realized I would like to come back here, but can't. I won't be writing in this space again, and that makes me so sad, but it's been a year filled draft posts that I second-guessed myself out of posting. I'll forever love what the moments, both high and low, that this blog documents. Those posts mean so much to me.

I'm a Good Mom

I've been doing a lot of self reflection lately, and I fully admit that I am my own worst critic, but I think all moms sort of get the shaft in the good job department.  For the record, if you are a mom and your kids and happy and loved, you are a good mom.

I regularly neglect house duties to spend time with my kids, and although I am trying to get better in the home making department, I am allowing myself to see that I'm a pretty good mom.  I've got a lot stacked on my plate, but I manage it pretty damn well, all things considered.  I'm not broken.  I'm not drowning. I'm not perfect and never will be.

I'm thriving now, and so are my kids.  I'm a pretty damn good mom, even if I have to force myself to say it sometimes.

Let It Go

When we took custody of Little Moon, we laughed to ourselves how it wouldn't be long before this soft-spoken, whispering little child would be swinging from the lights and screaming just like his brothers, as hard as it was to imagine.

Two and a half months later, I am listening to a very loud duet of the Frozen soundtrack from that same tiny whispering child and his almost-as-tiny but way louder older brother.  This duet includes musical instrument that are likely cars they are banging on our table (or each other).  I'm confident that last verse will be belted out in a monster/super villain voice.  It's loud and uninhibited and filled with laughter.  It's making me smile and reach for the headache medicine.

I am trying to teach myself to roll with the level or noise and commotion a house of three boys brings.  I tend to reject the gender stereotype notions that say that boys have to be louder and and more brash and rough than their female peers.  But as I continue to parent my three boys, I am losing the battle to keep them meek and quiet and slow.  I'm teaching myself that it's OKAY for little kids (boys or girls) to be loud in appropriate places in appropriate ways.  And I am teaching myself that those appropriate places and ways for kids are more vast than I have or wanted to accept.

I pride myself on my boys' manners and behavior.  It's not perfect, but they don't act like they have been raised by wolves and they don't bother people in places that people shouldn't be bothered. They sit mostly quiet in church, movie theaters, and restaurants. But in our home or in the homes of our friends...yes, I am forcing myself to let them scream and jump and wrestle.  I believe I'd let a little girl do the same if she felt inclined.  In fact, as a family who infuses nearly every part of our day with some form of speech therapy, I encourage it.

So sing away, Elsa and Ana.  Fight the bag guy, Batman and Superman.  Let's have that parade, Badger Marching Band.  And if you are shushed, Mama will find you a different place to let your energy shine when you need it to.  Even when I'd much rather that we all cuddle quietly for some book time, I'm learning to let it go and let you explore your childhood bodies and minds however loud you want.

Distance

For once, my writing here in this space was not for any woe-is-me reasons.  Life is actually wonderful. Life with three boys, a dog, and a husband is incredibly fulfilling.  Easy, no, but happy. I'm finding a lot of new things in my own life and changing some things up.  It's good.

But I took intentional distance from this space because over the past few months I have realized that this space became my place to vent, lament, and provide my own comfort...especially with regards to Little Bug's needs.

For the record, I regret writing only one post here in the past four years, and that post was deleted very quickly.  Even the most painful of posts are precious to me because they capture a snapshot of a very real, very raw situation. I love reading the posts where I celebrate the milestones and triumphs of my children.

But in the last few months I took a break from this space because I've began to realize through some uncomfortable self reflection that my openness with Little Bug's needs (although written in the spirit of honesty or fierce pride for my son) has taken away his ability to just be Little Bug to the world. This blog isn't anonymous to a lot of readers, and that's something I have always been okay with, but that I know see in a different light as I think through the things that I have shared here over the years.

Little Bug is 6 years old now. He's in school and making friends and living a life crafted around hobbies and talents of his own making. He is the most loving child you will ever meet. He will always be excited to see you, meet you, become your friend, and learn your first and last name. He takes pride in his shirts, watches, and sun glass collections. He only wants to eat hot lunch at school because it's cool. He knows that he has to work hard, both physically and academically, and although that is a drag, he has amazing work ethic and will never give up. And he'll turn around and do it again for you with a smile, high five, and fist bump. He's a great big brother who coos comfort to his baby brother in Korean and helped potty train him. He has great hair, eyes that often literally twinkle, and a smile that can go from impish to mega-watt in a heart beat.  He is an unforgettable little boy who charms everyone he meets.

But I don't write or talk about that enough. Instead I spend my time talking about medication, therapy, IEPs, sensory, tics, etc. etc. etc. And that stuff is even more unique, so it makes sense that it will float to the forefront when people think of Little Bug. And in our quest to make life easier for our son, to help people understand him, and to share our incredible pride in his accomplishments, Appa and I have spent years perpetuating this.

That really sucked as a mother to realize. Because maybe I wasn't helping him by being so open...maybe it was actually just myself I was helping at the expense of his privacy.

So we've realized that at this stage in his life, what Little Bug needs is a very small Team Little Bug to worry about those parts of his life, and the rest of his world to focus on getting to know the Little Bug that is growing into a shining, engaging, hilarious, curious, kind boy. 

From now on, Appa and I have agreed not to share details of Little Bug's challenges with people. That includes my writing about them in this space.  After a lot of contemplation, I will continue to write here about all my boys, but simply be mindful of what they might want to be shared about their lives as they get older.  And I'll continue to share our special needs journey through MY eyes and MY challenges, but I'll never make it specific to Little Bug's needs again.  We aren't going to act like they don't exist, but by now, everyone who needs to know that Little Bug is different knows enough to be a valued part of his life.  And all the anonymous people who read this blog...you know enough, too.

I hope that no one takes this the wrong way.  This is a wrong that Appa and I take responsibility for and are seeking to fix before Little Bug gets any older.  We love our son, we are proud of our son, but most of all, he is simply that...our beloved son.

The Weight of Another 28 Pounds

Today I was pushing a cart full of kid out of Costco. It was bitterly cold. The kids were shivering. I forgot my gloves.

And yet, the answer to a question I hadn't even realized I was asking myself hit me in that moment. Despite having another child, a dog, a traveling husband, and cruddy weather, why was I so relaxed and simply happy?

It hit me that for the first time ever, really, I feel complete.  I've spent most of my life waiting for someone to come into my life. I've been with Appa for so long, but we waited a long time before getting married.  Then we waited a couple years before decided to start a family.  And then we waited a few more before actually starting a family.  Each time we brought a child into our home, in the back of my mind I was always already waiting for the next one.

But today, for the first time, I realized I am waiting for no one.  My family, the people who I will spend the rest of my life loving more than anything else in the world, are all in my arms now.

I can only describe that feeling as a weight lifting off my heart.

My mother once told me that she felt an emptiness inside her heart and she knew that someone in our family was missing. Once my youngest brother came along, she told me that feeling was finally gone.  I never really understood, but I do now.

I didn't realize how much I felt stifled by the never-ending waiting.  Every vacation, every family picture, every holiday for a very very very long time has been spent wishing for someone else to be with us. I just feel so blessedly happy to finally feel like I can move forward to enjoy each moment in completeness.

We'll never say never, because you never know what life will bring, but I know that my heart is finally telling me to breath and enjoy life.

So I shall.

Curtain Up

I gave myself some time over the last couple months to step away from writing.  I found that I write in my head in the absence of writing in earnest.  But as much as I wanted to, I wanted to break myself away from using any form of writing as a crutch for just living with my feelings.  That probably makes zero sense, but there you go.

The good news is my black out is over. My blournal is back to public since I no longer need to fear a judge could/would use my words against me. I have three little boys snoozing away upstairs and the world spread out before me.

And I intend to write about it.

The House Always Win

One year ago today we accepted Little Moon's referral. 

I didn't rmember that until just a little bit ago because I have spent the whole day in a haze of court date euphoria.

Appa said point blank it would be today.  And he was right.

The odds were in our favor today.

I'll Take Those Odds

One month.

Considering all the many, many, many months I have spent waiting for my children, 1 month shouldn't even register on my list of most trying.  And yet, this month, the last 30 days, will go down as some of the most memorable in all three adoptions.

In the past we waited for a travel call.  A given outcome that was the end result of a lot of paper pushing. And while the papers might be pushed a slower than I wanted, the outcome was predictably a travel call, which was then predictably followed by flying to Korea and bringing my child home as soon as I could.

Not so, this time.  This time there is little predictability in the process.  The court date we are waiting on is uncharted territory in waters we had expected to be old pros in.  Families with our same time frames are in Korea now or packing their bags while we are still RSVPing "Maybe, but I hope not" to anything in the next month.

But the most perplexing part of the last 30 days has been the fact that it has little to do with paper pushing.  This time, a judge is reviewing our home study...unquestionably the most invasive, raw documents ever written about us and something I wouldn't even be comfortable sharing with our family.  But some judge in Korea is reading it over, mulling over our merits as potential parents.  And although I am fairly confident what we present won't keep us from the honor of raising Little Moon, the predictability is compounded by the fact that the judge can issue our court date whenever and for whenever he or she wants to.

That means that if the judge has a vacation planned or is feeling under the weather or had a bad breakfast and is in a bad mood, those things could swing our notifications and dates by weeks or months at a time.

It's maddening to have something so important and time sensitive be completely at the whim of someone else with absolutely nothing we can do about it.

So every morning until lunch time I hold my breath and stalk my phone and check my e-mail every 2 minutes (I am not exaggerating) even though I know the phone call will come first (I think).  I'm crippled from giving full attention to anyone or anything that isn't on Facebook's adoption groups. And for 30 days, nothing has come except for one emotionally confusing day when half our group did get their court dates.

But there is an unexpected and welcome silver lining.  Appa and I are both invested and waiting together this time.  Appa's logic and trust helped him breeze through the other two waits, but this new unpredictable timeline seems to have thrown him for a loop.  So instead of only leaning on friends for sympathy and support, I have my best friend to live it with.  He even suggested we have a "pity party" last Friday night.  Pity is SO my emotion, so to have him suggest it was really pretty funny and ending up making our pity party a night of silly board games and drinks.  We've been sad together and happy together and I'll always think fondly of this period in that respect.

And each morning when Appa asks me with hope in his voice "Think today is our day?" he follows it up with "The odds are better today then they were yesterday."  And we get a little giddy and the anticipation of what they day could bring.  It's a fun feeling.

So these 30 days have been memorable for me, but not in a bad way.  Sure, it hasn't been fun and I want our court date TOMORROW PLEASE but I'll remember this time as a really uncomfortable and hard time frame that we managed to weather with positive attitudes fitting for our grinning guy.

We will not let this take the joy from our journey to our son.

5

Five.  It seems like such a big number, a milestone.  Yet 5 years has flown by in what seems like the blink of an eye.

Five years ago I became a mother.

Five years ago I woke up and ate breakfast slowly.  I did my hair and makeup in peace.  I laid down for a nap.  I rushed up and down escalators and from store to store searching for a little orange doll.  Five years ago I swore out loud whenever I wanted to. Five years ago my responsibilities stopped at me.

Five years ago someone handed me a baby.  It's all a haze of tears and watery smiles and then lots of real tears.  I remember everything about the back alleyway where a small child's life was literally placed in my arms for good.  I remember it hitting me sometime that evening that we were now parents.  Real parents.  The reality of the responsibility of parenthood is overwhelming to consider.

I remember singing "Row Row Row Your Boat" for 30 minutes straight while wearing a rut into the carpet in our hotel.  I remember falling so deeply in love that night with the father my husband instantly became.  I remember sleeping with my hand through the crib bars...just to be able to touch my child all night long.

There are many moments in my life that have defined me, but none so drastically, completely, and instantaneously as that day 5 years ago when I became someone's mom.

And not just a mom, but Little Bug's mom.  A title I am proud and honored and so, so, so grateful to wear.

Birthday Boy

Dear Little Moon,

Happy 3rd birthday, my sweet son.  I wish we could have been with you on your special day, but I know you spent it with the people who love you and who you consider your family.  All I wish for you is a day where you feel extra special and can enjoy all the things and people you love most.

Little Moon, I've been overly lucky to only miss one of your brothers' birthdays, but with you, I've missed three.  Your first two were before I really knew you, so this one if the first where I have actively missed you.

We had honestly always expected you to be 3 when we could bring you home, but I have been surprised at how sad missing every day of your second year has made me.  Turning 3 seems SO big boy. I can't wait to get to know this 3-year-old you and celebrate next year with you.

I've never been outwardly emotional about this kind of thing. I don't plan and throw parties or spent the day weeping.  But yesterday, as the clock ticked down the minutes until it was Midnight in Seoul, I wept alone in our hotel room.  I tried to channel all my love and energy into celebrating you.  I sat alone in our hotel room and kept vigil over the clock as your last moments of 2 wound down.  I wept a bit as I watched the clock turnover to Sept 2 in Seoul, and I wished you a happy birthday and rejoiced for you being in the world.

We celebrated a day early here, something we don't normally do.  But I really wanted to be "with" you on your birthday and celebrating with you in real time, so we celebrated while you would have been celebrating in Korea.  It was just the smallest of things we could do to feel closer to you.

The time is coming soon, sweet Little Moon, when we will be able to celebrate all the many coming birthdays with you.  I love you, and I can't wait.

Willa

Two weeks ago and one day ago we had no intention of getting a dog for a couple more years although we'd been researching a very specific hypoallergenic brand for over a year.

Two weeks ago today I went to bed consumed by thoughts of a little white and black ball of silky fluff sleeping on a cage floor that I had no intention of meeting earlier in the day.  As insane as the idea was, I knew she was ours and I hated that she was spending another night alone.  Just had to convince Appa that getting a puppy at this stage in our lives was a great idea.

The next day the decision was made that she'd be coming home with us mid-week. We needed to prepare, since, you know, we had zero intentions of getting a dog just 12 hours earlier and I've never had a dog before, much less a puppy.  And Appa was out of town for two more days.

Two hours later she was in a new crate in the back of our van rocking out to Robot Tim and Human Tim with the boys because I simply couldn't leave her there.  So clearly nothing about this was going according the plan.

It could have gone terribly wrong.

But Willa (a feminine nod to William Shakespeare) is puppy perfection.  Sure, she nips.  Sure, she poops and pees on the floor.  Sure, she puts anything she can find in her mouth.  If I wasn't okay with that stuff, I would be childless right now. Frankly, I wish there was a child whisperer I could find as easily as I found a puppy trainer.

She's also friendly, quiet, cuddly, patient, loyal, and so very very very soft.  I knew I would enjoy having a dog, but I had no idea how quickly and deeply I would grow to enjoy having her in our home.  I didn't realize how lonely the nights are when Appa travels until I had a cuddly warm body curdled up next to me on the couch to fill the silence with contentment. I had no idea how much I would enjoy a little one who would be grateful for little things like providing food and shelter and love without flying into a rage because someone else got the orange plate or spitting their milk out in a "Milk RAIN STORM."  She even laid on my lap and enjoyed a bad chick flick tonight with me.  You couldn't pay another member of my household to do that.

But most of all, Willa has just given me one more blessing in my life to love. It takes a lot of work to help her grow and learn, but I'm learning that Appa and I are actually game for a little hard work because we know the rewards. Stepping out to seize the moment for her felt very exciting and brave, and I am proud we did it for our family.  I feel elated when she listens and behaves and simply proud to be her "family mommy".  (The bonus of having adoption already a big part of our family conversation is that the boys are all about her having a doggy birth mommy and a human family mommy. Nothing confusing here.)

She's cute as can be, for sure, but beneath the fluff is a dog that perfectly fits our family.  The last two weeks have been simply delightful with her in our home.

We also got our EP for Little Moon.  I think that was the universe's way of getting the hint.  Sure hope Little Moon likes "mung mungs."

Hiding

This blog has been a place for me to write about motherhood and all the many things that come with it.  Since the very first post, for the past 5 years, I have written about adoption, special needs, depression, anxiety, friendship, individuality, and expectations.  My audience for this blournal has always been my children, but obviously the more immediate audience has been the people who read it and sometimes comment.  I've received so many wonderful comments of support over the years, as I so appreciate them.  There is also something supremely cathartic about sharing some heavy stuff and "getting it off my chest."  I truly believe that sharing the hard things has made me a better and stronger woman and mother.

Ironically, it is those very hard things that I reached deep to share that need to be buried down deep.

As we reach the final stretch to Little Moon, the path is not free from obstacles.  Some are out of our control, but some are ones we can plan for and work around.  What I consider brave others will consider weak. 

And as Little Moon's mother, I have to make hard choices because I am not weak.  This blournal is one of those choices.  I will continue to post here, but it won't be public again until after he is sleeping in that room upstairs.  It's a very simple decision, but still one that makes me sad.

So if you are reading this in real time, hello.

To My Little Bug as He Ventures in the Kindergarten

Dear Little Bug,

Tonight after I put you to bed, I came down and stared at a picture of you from when you were 11 months old for a solid 5 minutes. It seem surreal to me that you were once such a tiny little thing with a smile wider than your face and this moment seemed so far away I couldn't even fathom it. And although you've been going to full day school and riding a bus for 3 years already, tomorrow seems different somehow. You're going to a new school and a new class and you have to make all new friends.  This is the beginning of an educational life that I hope will carry you through the next 16+ years and allow you to find and shape your future.  Yet, unlike many of the other kids who will be starting Kindergarten tomorrow, you can't yet write you own name or identify the alphabet or all your colors or stand on one foot.

But damn it if you probably aren't the hardest and most dedicated worker in the whole bunch.

So, my darling Little Bug, this is my wish for you tomorrow:

Smile that smile.  Get up when you fall down. Clap your hands and stomp your feet.  Ask everyone you meet if they want gum. Enjoy the yellow bus. Try just one more time. Take three deep breaths. Brave the slide. Show off your t-shirts. Sit still when you can. Soak in the praise. Learn from your mistakes. Always remember that "you.are.the.best."

Little Bug, you have been given many challenges to overcome, but I truly believe you were blessed with one of the brightest, most pure and dedicated souls I have ever encountered.  You will go far in life, and no matter where that is, as long as it makes you happy, I'm happy.  I suppose that is getting ahead of myself, but I took one more look at your 11-month-old self and recalled how I couldn't fathom tomorrow, and I know it's going to go so quick.  And you are going to amaze us all.

Have fun, Little Bug.  I love you.

Not Getting Off This Ride

Lately Appa and I have been participating more and more in our local special needs community.  Specifically, there is a special collaboration recreation district and education district that Little Bug qualifies for.  He'll be attending a special full day Kindergarten class this fall run through that district but housed in one our our local elementary schools. And their rec district offers free companions to attend any regular park district activity or class.  This allowed Little Bug to have a really positive and age appropriate swim season last Spring and will allow him to continue to enjoy swimming and TKD this fall with his peers. This summer, after summer school ended, he started attending a full day summer camp through their rec district.  It's a one-on-one camp that he has LOVED.  It has been the perfect segway into a camp experience for him. I'm so grateful for these programs as they open up so many opportunities for my little boy to be included in.

We've also started attending family functions.  Last weekend we were invited to attend a fairly large carnival/community event in the morning hours before it was opened to the general public.  The sign, as we entered, wished families with special needs a great morning.  Appa and I were not sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't a fully running carnival with every ride empty and waiting for us to hop onto, every game complimentary and every participant a stuffed animal prize...or two, or three, or as many as they could "win."  Events like this are usually something that end in overstimulated meltdowns for our Little Bug, so to be able to enjoy every part of the experience without the large crowds or waiting in line was priceless.  Seriously, a charmed, unbelievable couple of hours.

When asked, Little Bug likes to say that his favorite part was riding the Dumbo ride..."a lot of times." That's an understatement. We rode ride after ride after ride and played games and won prizes. There was a carousel and roller coaster and boat and car and motorcycle and dump truck rides that we didn't have to get off if we didn't want to. We bumped our way through a glass and mirror house without worrying about people trying to push past us.  We were surrounded by families who all have lives very different from ours, but who all get us on a level many others can't.  Special needs cannot define our family, but it is a big part of who we are, together as a family and how we frame our lives.  Little Bug's needs directly impact his little brother, and I was happy that he could also have a little special treatment to make up for all the things we don't do fully. Perks shouldn't just be for the one with special needs.

Appa and I were so overwhelmed by the generosity and perfectly thought out details of the morning.  It put into sharp focus how lucky we are to live in an area with the means and commitment to serve families and people of all ages with all sorts of needs.   Even before Little Bug joined our family, I feel like we were directed to care about these sorts of possible services.  Having them to bless our family now feels like we've made the right choices all along to position our family in the perfect spot.

If only they could do something about those summer storms, life might be even a bit more perfect.

Moving On and Letting Go

Every aspect of the wait for your child is excruciating in a different sort of hellish way.  The beginning stages are filled with a seemingly endless black hole of time to wait for your child.  The middle parts are more of a quiet, almost apathetic abyss where things begin to seem endless and unmoving and unreal.  The last sprint towards homecoming is surrounded with minute counting, e-mail and phone jumping, and desperate heartache as each day and week come to a close without movement you know is just around the corner.

That's where we are at.  The final sprint where things are barreling ever closer towards this amazing and huge new life, while simultaneously trapping you in a constant state of living with your life on hold.  The entire summer we have been living for August.  Anything past August was unknown and therefore unschedulable.  That was okay. It was exciting. We lived Summer up as much as we could.

August is here now, and schedules can be made. But now I feel crippled for scheduling the Fall or Winter.  I held off planning for kids' extracurricular activities because I wasn't sure how Little Moon would do with them....should he happen to be here for them.

But this week I decided I could no longer force my family into a holding pattern.  My older childrens' lives are continuing despite the fact that each evening without news I go to sleep feeling for a brief moment like time has just stopped.

So schedules were made.  Epically, if I do say so myself.  I scheduled weekly therapy sessions, swim lessons, science classes, TKD lessons, farm outings, and enough bug and insect classes to fill up many of our nights and weekends. We're riding hay rides and train rides and hunting for spiders and owls and milking cows.We're going to magic shows and rock concerts and possibly even booking a guitar-playing robot for a birthday party. Turns out renting carousels is pretty darn expensive...

And I know, at some point, we're going to have to miss some of it to go to Korea and bring Little Moon home.  Oddly, that gives me a sense of satisfaction.  I might not be able to schedule my trip to him yet, but I know I've scheduled plans our trip to him will force us to break.

I'm also letting go of the dream of his birthday.  For a gal who went into this knowing I'd never see this milestone; I sure have thrown a fit about missing it lately.  I recently learned that we likely won't get pictures from this special day...at least not right away, if at all.  After drinking a lot of alcohol in the dark on my back porch and using some not nice words to people I could trust not to be offended, I am letting go of all expectations I have for his birthday.  I know he will be loved on that special day by those around him and by those who will love him from afar. I know he will have a birthday package waiting for him when he can get it.  And I know I'll have all the rest of his birthdays to come to never have to worry about pictures or updates or whether he is getting to blow out candles or have someone sing to him.  I cannot let my joy for him be sucked out by my disappointment. 

So I move on and let go and wait until I can move forward and grab hold of him.

J

Last year was hard.  I had to pull back from many things and people that took time and emotional energy in order to deal (or for a long period of time, NOT deal) with stuff that needed more of my attention.  From there, my anxiety got the best of me, and I felt a cycle of embarrassment take over, making things worse by hiding even further from people.  My absence hurt feelings, unintentionally but validly, and in some cases, I fear, irrevocably.  I'm learning to let that go and simply accept that sometimes what I can give is not enough or the right type of friendship people want.  And as an adult, I understand that's okay.  I don't have to be bosom buddies with everyone.

But a couple weeks ago a friend who I had not talked to in over a year reached out to me in the smallest of ways, and I jumped on it.  I told her the truth...I was avoiding her and most everyone else, and I was sorry and I missed her.  She forgave me immediately and without reserve, even though she had plenty of her own struggles that I was not there for.

We met up last week and fell back into an easy rapport.  We talked as we always did and laughed as we always did.  We had lots of catching up to do, but it was easy to do because the friendship was there.  She didn't hold it against me, and I didn't feel guilty about it anymore because we were still friends.

We talked openly about me going radio silent, and she gave me some great outlook and advice and compassion.  She told me we could go another year without talking and this would still feel this way when we met back up again.  And I believe her...but have no intention of waiting that long again!

I'm grateful, so grateful, for the incredible lesson in friendship she taught me.  I only hope I can be half the friend to her that she is to me.

Hooka Mooka

When my sister and I were very little, we lived in a house where one entire wall of the bathroom was mirror tiles.  As an adult, I think that is weird, but as a child, it was the perfect stage.  Before bath each night, my sister and I would strip down and dance in front of the mirror as wild as we could chanting "hooka mooka, hooka mooka."  It was our "thing" at a time when she and I had very few "things" in common.  I have very fond and vivid memories of those nightly dance parties.

My boys have a large mirror over a low dresser in their room.  I've often considered removing it as it was unused and wasting space I could put shelves. 

Then the "too ta, too ta" started.  I think Little Bro started it, chanting and spinning and wildly dancing in front of the mirror.  Little Bug joined in and the "too ta, too ta" was born.  Now, every morning and every evening they meet in front of the mirror (usually when I am trying to dress them) and chant and dance and laugh at each other with bright eyes and big smiles.

And it lets me relive a little slice of my own childhood.

Still My Baby

This weekend I had a bit of an epiphany while camping.  I was holding Little Bro in my arms as he slept while everyone else took a walk.  It was just me, my sleeping baby, and a campfire.  Basically the best thing ever.

As I gazed down at my sweet little boy, it hit me that he's only going to be my baby for a short time longer.  No matter how we slice or dice it, he'll no longer be a baby and things will change for him and for me.

We've prepare him in so many ways to be a big brother, but it dawned on me that we haven't done anything to prepare him to no longer be the baby.  He's going to struggle with that; I know he will.

So I let him sleep on me far longer than I should because these moments are slipping away faster and faster.  Soon it will be another warm body who will get first dibs on being rocked to sleep by mama.  But for now, he's my baby, and I am going to let us have these moments.

Amidst a weekend full of great moments, this hour with Little Bro was hands down my favorite.

Brother Bully

Little Bro, who attends Little Bug's old school with many children who spent years with Little Bug, told me today that a friend was telling him that his brother Little Bug was "weird."

I asked Little Bro what he said to that friend, and he replied "I said he wasn't weird, he was the best brother in the whole world."

Suck it, friend.  Little Bro isn't going to take anyone messing with his brother.  And I'm damn proud of him for it.

Dear Universe

*Edited to add: this is written in a moment of weariness.  It's not directed at any one person or group of people.  It's just a collection of things that have become too much for me in a time where I really want to be feeling excited and not have people feeding into my natural anxiety over bringing another child into our home.  Apologies if people feel this is too snarky or just plain rude.*

Respectfully, to the universe and all the many well-intentioned people I come in contact with, here is what I don't need right now:

People telling me my son won't grieve.  He will.  My other two sons' grieving wasn't based on anything else than the supreme trauma of being ripped from everything they know and love and neither will Little Moon's.  This is going to be horrific for him. It's insulting to so many people, least of all my son, to suggest anything else.

People telling me Little Moon (or our whole family) will need therapy.  Maybe he will, and we have resources already identified and in place should he need that.  But it's not a guarantee, and I don't need people saddling my son with issues he may or may not need professional help for.  Unless you are an expert in the field of international closed toddler adoption and have written the 10+ books I have read multiple times on the subject, you are not more informed in this particular issue than I am.

Talking about how your kid would "never survive" something like this.  New flash: they would; they are just lucky enough not to have been dealt a lot in life where it became necessary. If your kid was ripped from your arms and given to a loving Korean family, they would grieve and then eventually learn Korean and live a happy life.  They would. So please don't act like your kid is any different than mine...the only thing different is that your kid doesn't have to survive a life trauma and mine does.

Expressing shock and trepidation over three kids so close in age.  Please people, we're doing this, our family is going to look this way, please deal with it and stop bringing it up to me like my answer is going to magically change to "OMG, you're right.  Three kids IS going to be way too much to handle.  I'll call Korea right now and tell them Little Moon can go live in an orphanage instead.  Thanks so much for bringing it to my attention."

Telling me I won't be able to do it alone with three kids. Bringing up Little Bug's special needs over and over. Suggesting all sorts of scenarios that seem impossible to accomplish successfully alone with three kids. Listen, I spend hours every day thinking through bedtime routines and cosleeping with Little Moon while supporting my two older kids and their sleep issues. And no, it's not going to be pretty and I will get hooked on Diet Dr Pepper again.  I think through how to navigate Little Bug's quiet time needs with two other child who can't be left unattended.  I look at my schedule and imagine how I'll never see a friend again once we add therapies in for TWO of our children.  There is nothing you can shockingly suggest to me that I haven't already through through and worried about.  And the honest truth is a lot of these things are going to be messy and hard at first.  But no matter what it looks like, make no mistake: I WILL DO IT. It's also fairly insulting to me and to my husband to suggest we didn't think about this sort of stuff when we decided to adopt a 3 year old child. 

What I do need:

People to offer acceptance.  Little Moon is going to come home with some special needs, some of which we don't quite know the extent of yet.  Add that the grief regression, and he's not going to look like a "typical" 3 year old.  I need people to love him and accept him for that instead of focusing on how he can "get better or get help."  I've got that under control.  I just need you to love him without judgement.

People to understand that we are choosing to adopt a child with special needs, but it doesn't mean we still can't be scared or intimidated or overwhelmed. Tell us we can do it because we are already well versed in managing expectations, embracing a new normal, advocating for our children, and accepting a child for who they are.  I need people to see our children for all the amazing parts of who they are, not the fact they were on a waiting child list.

People to let me be the expert. Instead of offering your opinion based on someone you know who adopted once or your own parenting experience with your biological child, please ask me what WE expect and listen and accept the education we have gathered from classes, books, people who have BTDT in situations very similar to ours, and experts from conferences, webinars, and private consultations, and two previous adoptions. It would mean so much to me if I could be the expert on my own uniquely formed family.

People to accept not seeing Little Moon (and me) for a while.  I need people to understand that right now, my priority is going to be on my sons and husband.  No one else.  I need people to love us from afar and not be offended that they don't get to be a part of however long we need to get to know each other.  I need people to be patient and trust that their part in our lives is still important, but just secondary in this situation.  And I need people to understand that the best way to show love for Little Moon in his first days home is to let him adjust to his new life in a small of increments as possible.

And most of all, People to simply tell me "Everything will be okay. It's going to be hard, but it's going to be fun and exciting and get better every day. You and your family will be okay...you'll eventually be great. You'll do whatever you need to make sure your family is healthy and happy."  Please, someone just tell me that....and mean it.