Adoptivus: Family

One of the most profound experiences of the whole trip was to spend the evening in the home of Little Bug's foster family.  As the driver took us into the heart of Seoul, I tried to soak in the sights, imagining the streets and sounds and colors that made up my baby little bug's world.  I didn't even think to take pictures or video, although I'd give anything now for some.  (Next time.)

There's always a moment, even in the most exciting and right experiences, where you think "Holy crap, what am I doing?"  As our car turned down a tight alleyway and started to slow, that moment hit me.

We'd met these people twice for a grand total of 2 hours over 2 years ago.  We don't speak the same language, we don't have the same cultural customs, and our contact has been been completely over the internet.  Yet, without the safety net of our agency, we were going to their home for dinner and catching up.  In that final moment before the car stopped, I felt my stomach plunge at the thought of this all going very wrong.

Then the car stopped and I heard a booming, warm, joyful voice welcoming us by name in broken English.  I was barely out of the car before being enveloped in a hug from my son's foster father, and I suddenly felt at ease.

This was family, and we were all going to make it work.

I struggle with how to share about that night.  It's tucked in my heart as one of the most beautiful evenings of my entire life.  It's so special that I find myself protective of it.  I thought it would just be about Little Bug, and while he was definitely the star of the show, the night was really more about our two families cementing a bond that went past a shared history of raising this little boy.  We celebrated and got to know each other, and by the end of the night, we felt like extended family.

What I can share is how humbling it was to see my son's first home, see the toys he loved and the clothing he wore.  It was affirming to see the walls covered in pictures of my beloved child and the other children who have been blessed enough to call these people family, even though years have now passed.  I can write about the honor I felt at the beautiful table filled with every imaginable Korean dish, prepared for days by neighbors and family who all wanted simply to honor the little baby with the beautiful smile they remembered.  And I can recall the delight and surprise when I was presented with a delicious traditional birthday rice cake and everyone sang happy birthday to me in Korean.

But the moments that stand out the most are the snap shots in my memory.  The way Little Bug's Omma and Appa gazed at him and brushed back his hair as he sat between them, so intimately a parent/child moment.  The moment when I happened to glance into the kitchen and see Little Bug fork feeding his college-aged hyung from his baby plate.  The moment when his beloved noona rushed into the apartment to scoop him up in a hug, having stopped by on her way to the airport as she was leaving to complete with her Korean national sports team but couldn't pass up the chance to see him again.  The quick glimpses of neighbors popping their heads in the door to catch their own glimpse of Little Bug.  The moment when Little Bug rushed over to give halmoni a big hug, he delight etched all over her face.  And above all, the pealing sounds of laughter, his and theirs, as they doted on him all night long.

We all claimed each other as family that night, as weird as it sounds. But it's no longer just the love of Little Bug that binds us to each other now, and that, besides Little Bro himself, was the most important aspect of our entire journey back to Korea.

We are so blessed with family.

Adoptivus: What View of What If

Seoul Tower is awesome.  The panoramic views of Seoul are seriously unreal.  I simply could not get over how far skyscrapers stretched in every direction.  I looked out over Seoul and imagined where my son was, where his birth mother and birth father were, where my older son grew up, and where his birth parents were.  With views like those, it seemed completely uncomplicated to imagine a world where we could connect with those special people and places.

That is not the memory that sticks with me from Seoul Tower.

Instead it was all the children from the school field trip that giggled and pointed at us or yelled "HELLO" before blushing and ducking their heads in laughter that kept capturing my attention.  I stared so often I started worrying that I was being creepy, actually.

I watched them joke and laugh or snark and grump at each other as only 10 year olds can.  I saw the popular kids and the studious ones.  I saw the giddy girls and the awkward boys.  I heard Korean roll off their tongues and imagined the type of lives they must go home to at night.  What they eat, what their parents do for a living, how to get home, what they watch for fun.

This was the life my sons should have had, and I was fascinated and so very heartbroken to see it playing out before my eyes.

I have never believed my sons were meant to leave Korea and live in America.  I love them and am so thankful to be their mom, but adoption blows in a million ways for them and this is one of the big ones.  The entire time I was in Korea I keenly felt the loss of their rightful chance to live in Korea as a cultural majority.  To see all those children who didn't have to loss their Korean culture, language, and traditions broke my heart for my sons and their field trip to Seoul Tower they will never get to take.

It was this moment when it crystallized for me that I would do everything in my power to help them learn Korean and bring them back to Korea as often as we could.  I mean, everything and anything.  I can't give them back the life they should have had, but I will try my hardest to bridge that gap just a little bit.

Adoptivus: 30

Many people consider their 30th birthday a low-point birthday milestone, but for me, I will always consider it the best birthday of my life.

I turned 30 in Seoul.

I spent the day on a bus tour seeing the sights of a beautiful city, visiting a Korean folk village, enjoying a delicious meal and panoramic views from the top of the tallest tower in Seoul, and shopping in local markets.  It was such a delightful day that I barely thought about it actually being my birthday, let alone the end of my 20s (which I was happy to see go anyway..I'm a big girl now, yo).

But Appa, ever the gentleman, carved out a little bit of time during Little Bug's nap for a private birthday celebration.  He bought me a sweet piece of cheesecake-cake, and we had a date in the lounge.  We talked about the big and small things happening for our family and flirted like high school kids, and I might have eaten all of my cake and about half of his.

It was perfect, and no party or gift will ever be able to top Seoul, Little Bro, and a piece of cheese cake.

Adoptivus: The Brothers Meh

One of the things I fantasized most about was the first moment my sons would meet.  Little Bug had been preparing for over a year to meet his brother, kissing his picture every night.  For him, Little Bro was already a part of our lives and the whole actually being in the same country business was just a formality. Meanwhile, Little Bro was happy being an only child.

When Little Bro came sprinting through the doors in our first glimpse of him, he stopped short in the middle of our merry little group, taking us all in with equal parts interest and wary.   Little Bug, on the other hand, stepped right out to meet his little brother and said loudly into his face "Hi, Little Bro." I held my breath, tears threatening as I watched what I knew would be an epic moment in all our lives.  I wished like hell my camera was already out, but wasn't about to miss the fireworks to fish for it out of my bag.

Turns out there was no need.  Little Bro looked once over at Little Bug and then turned back toward his foster mother and we were ushered inside.  There was nothing remotely special about the moment, other than it was the moment when these two brothers first met.

A total and complete meh.

Looking back on it, maybe moments like that don't matter.  I don't recall the first moment I met Appa.  The boys made their moments later with jostling for cars and toys and phones and pens.  Little Bug ate Little Bro's treats and Little Bro took command of Little Bug's balloons.  They both tried their hardest at making a family picture impossible without flailing limbs and arching backs. Those were the moments that started their relationship, even if they weren't the first.

And honestly, none of those moments really feel like mine, either, but I wanted to get them out in some form for the LBs to have when they are older and curious as to how their lives together started.

Adoptivus: Foodie Fail

After meeting Little Bro less than 15 hours after touching down on Korean soil, we fought the jet lag and lost by taking an obscenely long nap that ate the rest of our day.  Once we woke up, we really had little we were able to do but eat.

The hotel we stay at is attached to a large Korean mall and train station.  It's bustling, fancy, and very convenient.  As this was our first official night there, we knew absolutely that we wanted something Korean.  The little place with a seven sign menu of mandoo and soups looked like just the comfort food we were craving.

And it would have been perfection, if I hadn't have tried to get all fancy and order in freaking Korean.

Appa and Kim ordered by pointing to the picture of the soup they wanted, but I wanted to be adventurous, so I attempted to order a soup I was unfamiliar with and I ordered it in Korean.

Let's get it out of the way that when our food came it was apparent that we had ordered about five times the amount we could have eaten and must have looked ridiculous ordering the quantity of food.  We wasted so much at the end of the meal and it still makes me cringe to think about.

But the part that still leaves a sour taste in my mouth...literally...was the fact that the soup I ordered was, to my taste, disgusting.  I love me a lot of Korean flavors, but this was a cold soup and it tastes of fermentation and seafood, two things I don't prefer.  I truly did try to take a couple spoon fulls, but it was just too unappealing for me to stomach.  It didn't help that I was watching Appa and Kim happily tuck into some of my favorites.

I'd like to say we figured out a way to save some face in that small little mandoo and guk shop because all eyes were fixed directly on us, but we didn't.  We left that cold soup virtually untouched and despite our best efforts, made a minimal debt in the others.  I couldn't look in the direction of that shop for the rest of our trip without blushing in shame.


We finished the night with some ice cream from Baskin Robbins, and the flavor combinations were so interesting and daring.  I remember sitting at the table marveling over all the neat flavors and building a blog post in my head.  I'm sure it was the fatigue talking, but I remember just being totally blown away by the flavors in that shop.  I'd just met my son and yet my head you exploding from ginseng-flavored ice cream that I didn't even try.

That blog never got written and I have forgotten every flavor on that menu, including every flavor we actually purchased.

I am many things, but a foodie is apparently not one of them.

Adoptivus: First Date

Unlike meeting Little Bug for the first time, which was very much Mama meet Baby--Baby meet Mama, our first meeting with Little Bro was more like a hybrid play date/speed date.  And to be frank, he just wasn't that into me.

Little Bro is a tiny little boy with a personality about three times his size.  From the moment the doors opened and he came sprinting down the hall (not toward us, but rather away from his foster mother), I desperately wanted to be in his cool crowd.  He played hard, he grumped hard, and he loved hard, and this too-cool-for-school kid in his Captain Bitz tank top was a bit intimidating.

I remember being so focused on how torn I was.  I wanted to get to know his foster mother who was sitting quietly taking it all in, and I wanted to prove to them what great, "with it" parents we were and how our family would just click.  I wanted Little Bug and Little Bro to fall instantly in love with each other (the fight to the ground over the Cozi Coupe proved early on that wouldn't be the case).  Most of all, I wanted to touch Little Bro, to connect with him.  I wanted to breath him in and memorize every detail about him.  I wanted to touch his impossibly cute cheeks, kiss his sweet puckered lips, and brush back his whispy hair.

But he just wasn't that into me, and this adoption-savvy mama knew better than to force the love connection at this meeting.  So instead, I just kept gravitating toward him, inching closer and closer each pass he made around the room.  His sweet Korean voice was seriously the cutest thing I had ever heard, and I wanted to keep him talking as much as I could.

So I broke down and let him hold my camera....open and on.  A sin I paid for the rest of the trip with messed up settings.

But it got me my moment.  He sidled up to me to take some pictures and watch the monitor, and as he held the camera, his body almost close enough for a hug, I made my move and lightly rested my hands on his hips.

That was it.  On the first day I met the little boy whose lips and cheeks and toes and tummy and eyes I've kissed and studied and loved so completely for a year now, I could only muster up the courage for that small tummy pat.  Yet, I think back on our first meeting and that moment is still so vivid in my mind.  I can still feel the way his little warm body felt under my hands and how excited I was to be loving on my baby, even just a little.

There was no hug this day, no kiss goodbye.  I knew there would be plenty to last a lifetime later on.  It drove me to near distraction in the coming days and subsequent meetings when I still didn't get a chance to hold my son (and there might have been some threats requests to Appa that I for sure be the one to hold him in the car on the way back to the hotel).

But knowing what I know about my son now, I know this was absolutely his ideal first date.  This cool cat needed to be in control, and the give and take we played that day was the way our relationship would continue to grow.  And I am forever grateful for this one moment that got me through the next 6 days until I could properly hold him in my arms.

Adoptivus: Solitude

I'd like to say I spent the ride into Seoul marveling at the lights of its skyline, my favorite way to experience a city.  However, Appa, Little Bug, and I were all ugly sleeping in the back of the bus while my sister welcomed Seoul for us.  After a brief anti-snooze to check into the hotel, Appa, Little Bug, and Kim were all dead to the world while I sat at our hotel room desk, my head literally swimming from exhaustion, but my entire body was humming with the view from my window.

Seoul. 

It's weird to explain how you can visit a city that is so very different from everything you know and embrace it so wholly in your heart, but that is how I feel about Seoul.  It had been over 2 years since we had last been there, but as I sat there in the same hotel with the same view, it felt like we had come to our second home.  I didn't just love Seoul, but I had missed it even more than I realized. We received a message from Little Bug's foster family welcoming us and wishing us good night because they had been tracking our flight.  We had family there. It felt right and natural to be there. The night owl in me didn't want to sleep.  I wanted to just soak it in, even just from my hotel room window.

So although I should have slept...needed to sleep...I simply sat on that swivel chair and looked out the window at the lights.  Eventually I tore myself away and hid in the bathroom to quietly prepared the gift bags for Little Bro's foster family and social worker in a labor of love.  I took my time, allowing myself time to prepare for the moment that was only hours away.

In only hours, I was going to meet my sweet son.  And although I was out of my mind tired (and actually fell asleep at the lunch table the next day at the agency), I am grateful for those hours of solitude I had before one of the most important days of my life.

I was so ready.  I was so at peace.

And yes, I was so tired.

Adoptivus: A Year Later

Being an admitted sentimental sap, I love reliving the trip to my sons during the days leading up to their family days by capturing memories that didn't make the family blog. I affectionately call it Adoptivus. Believe it or not (and I am in the NOT camp), Little Bro's 1-year family day is next week.

A year ago today, Appa, Little Bug, Kim Emo, and myself got on that pretty teal plane to fly halfway across the world.  As I thought about what I wanted to write today, I realized I have very few specific memories from the flight over.  It was pretty uneventful, and that in and of itself is something I know I should be grateful for.  I took less than five pictures the entire 14 hour flight, for Pete's sake.  Anyone who knows me knows that means absolutely nothing noteworthy happened.

Instead, these are the precious memories that bubble to the surface as I look back a year later at our day spent in the sky.

*An hour before we left for the airport, I stood next to Appa in our front room, marveling at the calm.  Outside Kim and Little Bug played in his red wagon and soaked up the bright cheery sunshine.   Our small arsenal of luggage was carefully packed and standing in wait.  Unlike the first time, things were just so peaceful in those last moments of normal.  More than anything else, it is that calm and warm sense of peace and sunshine that stick with me from that day.  I was so supremely grateful for that sunshine.

*It took until we got to the gate and were waiting to board that Appa and I both realized in horror that the travel clothing we had dressed Little Bug in were simply too small for him.  The pants were up to his ankles and his Thomas shirt was barely covering his belly.  If Appa noticed it, I knew it was bad.  If you know how classy Korean people tend to dress (and how bundled they dress their babies), you can imagine how awesome we looked.

*When the plane took off, I caught my sister's eye.  This was her first international travel, and I knew she was a totally pumped.  I mouthed "here we go" and felt like my stomach was going to explode with happiness knowing that we were just hours (okay, a lot of hours) away from Seoul and my son.

*A middle-aged woman sitting near us offered Little Bug a loaf-like thing wrapped tightly in tinfoil less than an hour into the flight.  We accepted gracefully and under her watchful eye, we started feeding Little Bug this thing we didn't recognize from a person we didn't know.  I still have no idea what it was; it looked and tasted like a mixture of date bread, meat, and dried fruit wrapped in a tight sausage-like preparation.  But he didn't die and we won some smiles and appreciative nods from more than one Korean grandma on that plane.  Totally worth it.

*Little Bug spent a combined total of hours snapping and unsnapping his seat belt with total joy.  Who needs iPads and toys when kids have ice cups and seat belts?

*I watched "The King's Speech" with Colin Firth.  Anything with Colin Firth is worth noting.

Adoptivus: The Prayer

My son was honored to have the founder of his Korean agency and one of the most amazing souls ever to grace this planet privately pray over him before he joined our family and left the only family and culture he had ever known.

"Precious lives, our angels, we send away these lives to foreign countries, with scarred memories of their homeland.

Please forgive our sins and allow Korea to be a better country, so that we will be adopting children from other countries, instead of us always sending ours away.

We send them for care. So please protect these lives and help them lead a happy life in their new homes. Always provide them with grace and intelligence, lead them to live by the rules of Jesus Christ, to have luck, to help benefit others, and to return the glory to our Lord.

It is our sincere wish that these lives will not forget their home country and the love of the people who took care of them.

Father, please remember the foster families who worked hard whether it is favorable or unfavorable conditions to protect these lives, and give them blessings for the benefits they provided with. By your blessings, these adoptive families will be full of love and be under your protection.

Now the children are leaving: Please make their way as easy as possible, lead them to the most pleasant life.

In the name of Jesus Christ,
Amen. "

I wonder if Dr. Kim knows just how much his own humble life has changed the course of so many others' lives forever.

Like mine.

감사함니다, Dr. Kim, for loving my son.

Adoptivus: Little Bug

Before we met Little Bug, we used to refer to him as a monkey (because all children must have an animal moniker, of course). Two years ago today, on the most intense day of my life that is too sacred and private to blog about in any meaningful way, I finally got the chance to begin to get to know my son.

Two things we immediately apparent as we began to parent this small child.
1. He was not going to be climbing about "monkey-style" anytime soon.
2. The kid was a serious cuddler.

During the 30 minute drive from our agency to our hotel, Little Bug fell asleep on me after looking around confused for a while. He nestled in and was so warm and darling. His foster mother had told us he liked close contact, and that was clearly obvious. As Appa and I were marveling over his sleeping form, I mused that he was a "little cuddle bug."

Besides a very sad 20 minute freak out, Little Bug earned that reputation throughout our first night together, allowing us (or more like allowing Baby-Hog Appa) constant cuddling opportunities. It was a night that went better and more joyful that we ever could have imagined (although the nights would soon turn more grim).

Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean the word "cuddle" was dropped, and by the time we hit American soil he was just a little bug. Over the next few weeks that turned into a nickname. Now, not a day goes by that our son isn't called "Little Bug" or "Bugs" or "Buggy" to his face.

And that is how, in a hotel room in Seoul on the day our son became our son, he also became Little Bug.

Adoptivus: The Hills

2 years ago today we set out on a mini adventure (complete with hijinks) to the city of Suwon, an hour or two outside Seoul. I've written a lot about our escapades on the bus ride and the history and freedom we enjoyed in the fortress. I've written about how we got back to Seoul courtesy of my handy flash cards.

But I've not written about the in between.

Once we got out of Seoul and before we started panicking about how we would get off the bus, Appa and I sat in total silence and watched the scenery change outside the window. It went from busy, trendy Seoul to very industrial areas. For some reason, this is what I expected the outside of Seoul to look like.

Eventually the landscape turned greener, softer, prettier. We passed through what seemed like valleys filled with meadows and streams. We passed a bright blue lake right off the side of the road, and I remember having the intense urge to go camping there. Surrounding us were what my Midwest head called "mountains" and my Western heart called "hills." Either way, they were covered in trees and moss. They were absolutely lovely and calming and natural and wild.

As I visualize it in my head now, everything has this hazy, soft blur to it, like a picture over treated. It was such a departure from everything else we saw on our trip, and coming after the day when we met Little Bug, my heart and head were in a happy place.

Seoul is amazingly advanced and sexy, and Suwon is a historical wonder, but the wild in between is worth remembering, too.

Adoptivus: The Smile

September 16, 2008. The day we met our son. I could not pick which memory to preserve, so I chose three.

Appa is a pretty reserved man, and the honest truth is that he doesn't love kids, at least other people's kids. I knew he would love our son, but there was a part of me that worried that he would be an unintentionally distant parent.

Somehow in the midst of loving on my baby for the first time, I knew that I needed to offer Appa a chance to hold his son. When I asked him if he wanted a turn, the sureness and excitement in his voice caught me off guard.

When I handed him our son, Appa flashed the most brilliant, authentic smile I have ever (and I mean that sincerely) seen on his face. I knew, without a doubt, that I was witnessing him fall head-over-heels in love with Little Bug. His eyes glazed over and it seemed he would now forever be at this child's whim (and he is).

That made me fall in love with Appa on a whole new level. To watch him claim, instantaneously, this child as his own and show him such tender and true love was one of the most moving moments of my entire trip and a memory I will always hold very dear in my heart.

Adoptivus: "Hi"

For months I had fantasied about the first moment holding my son, what I would say, what I would do, and how he would react. It all boiled down to the same phrase, "there you are." I was sure, practically insistent that I would utter it to him.

But when his beautiful foster mother handed him to me, I couldn't find any words for a moment. I had thought all along that I was looking for him...that I would recognize him in some way on some emotional level.

But I didn't. This child was a stranger to me....in the best way possible. He was not the child of my imagination; he was so much better.

She placed him in my arms and he stared directly into my eyes. His deep, impossibly big and thoughtful (and slightly sleepy) eyes studied me, waiting for me to make the first move. To introduce myself to him, because he was most definitely not thinking "there you are."

"Hi."

That, out of all the eloquent (or Korean) things I could of said, was how I chose to start our lives together.

But it worked for us. Little Bug studied me for a bit more and then tentatively reached out to touch my colorful earring that I had worn especially in the hopes he might find it interesting.

I know what I said after that; the whole thing is on video. I cooed and tried to make him say hi to the camera and asked about teeth. All completely pointless things because I was actually just making my lips move.

Inside my mind was going a mile a minute. I was thinking about how heavy and floppy he was and trying to determine what that meant. I was thinking about how hard it was going to be to be gracious and offer Jeff a chance to hold him....like, EVER. And most of all, I was blown away by his beauty, how my heart suddenly knew without a doubt that he was the most beautiful child I had ever seen.

I distinctly remember thinking to myself that we had made the right choice to get on the plane, that no matter what lay ahead of us, I was sure that this would be the child would be the best part of each day of the rest of our lives.

And then I did it, in my head, at least. I thought to myself as I felt my role as a mother start to take form,"there you are."

The road has not been easy, but Little Bug, you had me at hello.

Adoptivus: Baby Gap

September 16, 2008. Our eyes and hands and hearts were finally, truly filled with our first memories of Little Bug.

After meeting our son and having our world rocked, we felt the need to be low key and process what had just happened. We were so emotionally drained.

So clearly the best idea was to go to a super mall and shop for unidentified items.

Shopping in major malls in a foreign country for nothing in particular....totally calming. (?)

The mall we went to was multiple stories and although our house was jammed packed with everything we could possibly need for a child, our new parenthood auras were screaming to buy our kid something.

We made our way to the baby floor and decided an outfit would be a good choice. Unfortunately, this floor wasn't exactly like the baby clothing sections I was expecting. Baby Armani and other designers flowed through the store, in some cases using displays so swanky I was afraid to even walk up to them to browse the items. I ended up gravitating to Baby Gap, for surely I could find a reasonably priced polo that my child could wear somewhere other than to Fashion Week.

Apparently polos are not popular in Korea....not even in Baby Gap.

Instead I found a $120 canvas coat with some nautical theme, which was one of the least expensive items. My mind was a fog between having JUST MET MY SON and being assaulted by sticker shock from the other baby clothes selections (and possibly not having ate anything for almost 24 hours, as my time line reconstruction is now suggesting), so I held that coat for close to 10 minutes wandering around the small rack trying to talk myself in or out of buying it.

In: My baby deserves it. I deserve to buy it for my baby. It's a coat...babies need coats.
Out: It's $120 for a fall coat. It's not my style. It's $120 for a fall coat.

The best testament to how much meeting Little Bug rocked us, Appa didn't even attempt to talk some fiscal sense into me.

Finally reason won out and the coat was placed back on the rack. We continued to wander around the baby floor browsing bottles and cups and all sorts of other items we didn't actually need.

Instead, in the basement, we found a Build-A-Bear, book store, and music store where we could seal our new roles are parents by buying our kid random stuff without breaking the bank.

Ahh, the beginning of a beautiful tradition.

Adoptivus: The Door

Our first day in Seoul was the third day of the Chuseok holiday, which meant our agency was closed. After being politely told by the helpful concierge that the mountain we had intended to hike was about 8 hours away, we hopped a subway train to the first major site we saw on our Seoul city map, Changdeokgung Palace.

I had never been to a place as different from my own culture as Korea, and the palaces were like they were plucked from my dreams of what Korea would be like. Long courtyards, open, historic, sacred, and beautifully intricate.

However, I couldn't have dreamed the vibrant colors. OH, the colors! I couldn't have imagined the way in which history and tradition could flourish amidst busy streets and towering mountains.

I took hundred of pictures. I took pictures of ceilings and trees and roofs. I took pictures of secret ponds and monkey-shaped tree roots and ancient bridges.

And a door. I took a picture of a door.

I don't recall what this door was to. I only vaguely recall where the door was located. I just remember stopping while the rest of the tour went on and snapping a picture of this door. I stood there for a minute or two, "alone," and just contemplated it. Something about it spoke to me.

Maybe it was the color. Maybe it was the rust and age. Maybe it was the history.

Maybe it was my metaphor obsession that loved the idea of this beautiful door on my first day in Seoul. This whole trip was a door I was opening....a door to a new life. We, even more than some, were going into our first meeting blind, without a real inkling of what lay in store for us.

It should be noted that I love this sort of stuff on the best of days, so in my emotionally charged state I was practically floating on symbolism and deeper meaning and significance talk. Poor, literal Appa was good sport while I wandered about musing about life in the abstract.

This picture still speaks to me, 2 years later. It is, out of hundreds, the picture I chose for the front cover of the book we had published for Little Bug commemorating our personal trip. No explanation, just that door on the front cover. I'm printing it out and framing it as a piece of art for our home, too.

To me, it was beautiful.

I also want to add that I have really enjoyed going through my travel pictures and videos and reliving moments and writing some of them down. I need to do more of this, not just for adoptivus. Eventually, and especially once we experience Seoul again for Little Bro, my memories and emotions will fade or meld. Case in point already: I can not, if my life depended on it, tell you anything about what we did past the hour of about 4 pm on this day 2 years ago. No recollection of where we ate dinner or how we past the night away. Memories gone. Wild.

Adoptivus: The Light of My Life

14 hours after our feet left our hometown ground, we landed in Seoul, South Korea. It was twilight as we flew in. We could see a lot of water and some green hills, but everything was this hazy yellow. It felt very "right" to me that it looked this way, although I can't pinpoint why.

Stepping off the plane was less exciting than I thought it would be. I imagined bursting off the plane with this crazy energy, suddenly connected to my son by solid ground.

And I was excited, but not in a crazy way. More in a sleep deprived way.

The Incheon airport is probably very large, but it felt really small to me. Honestly, both times I was there my mind was sleep-deprived and a million miles away, so I consider it a victory that I remember anything at all. We waited around one carousel that felt like the only one in the whole airport, although I am sure this was not true. We finally got our luggage (that was quite wet on the outside from spending the trip with the mud-dragged, drenched luggage of our companions). My most vivid emotion from that entire evening is simple relief that our luggage made it.

It was really hard for me to perk up.

We took a hotel bus from the airport to our hotel, which is about an hour away. Playing on an old TV was a Korean game show and that background noise was the soundtrack to our introduction to Seoul.

The drive is a lot like the country. Industrial turns to rural nature turns to beautiful metropolitan city.

I love city lights; I always have. As a child, I would strain my neck for the first glimpse of a big city at night and it would give me this jolt. So much beauty. So much possibility.

Seeing Seoul loom ahead of us was exhilarating. I tried to take pictures; I tried to take video, but in the end, I put the camera away and just took it all in. Each light. Each building. Each bit of art. Each large dark patch of water breaking up the lights and spreading the city out as far as I could see. In that moment, it was the best, most brightest skyline I had ever seen.

The city of my light.

There is no other way I would have wanted to be introduced to Seoul.

Adoptivus: The Flood

I've dorkily started a personal celebration called "Adoptivus" that leads up to Family Day. The only person who celebrates it is me, but I love reminiscing about that amazing and surreal time in our lives.

Where do I get to have my personal celebration? On my blournal! I thought it would be fun to preserve one memory from each of our days, something we hadn't blogged about or put in a video diary.

On September 13, 2008, Appa and I "woke up" (I use the term loosely because I remember getting very little sleep) to a torrential rainstorm. I hate flying and usually am an internal mess before flights, but I was so keyed up I barely cared about the rain. We had planned to get there 3 hours early....plenty of time.

It was clear before we even got out of our neighborhood that this was no ordinary storm. Water was pooling in the roadways. Less than a mile from our house a major road was already flooded and closed.

What did I do? I whipped out my camera and started taking pictures for the novelty of it all. Nothing was going to rain on this almost-a-mama's airport parade!

Then the radio announced that our major airport was flooding and closed. Even the off ramps from the interstate were closing.

CLOSED. As in, we could not get within a mile of the place.

Oh, flights were still leaving, especially the international ones, but unless you were already there....there was no way for you to get in.

The next 2 HOURS were a navigational feat to behold. Appa's aunt was getting on and off any open ramp she could just to keep us circling in the vicinity of the airport. We had our laptop open and people on the phone trying to figure out mass transit ways for us to get into the airport (those were all closed, too).

The whole time the Korean Air representative kept telling us that the plane would have to take off due to international regulations. Hell, it was even on time.

I went into shock. White lips and nauseous and all.

Oh, and I made a video diary to show the seriousness of the situation, because it totally made sense to do at the time, and Appa wanted me to stop whimpering in the back seat.

Then I got frantic.

And I did not video diary this part.

We started seeing people dragging their luggage through the pouring rain and muddy fields to the terminals. That looked like a fantastic idea to me, and I was loud and insistent that we get out of the van and start trudging the mile through the rain and mud.

Rain was not going to stop me from getting to my baby.

At the last minute, right before Appa and I were going to go for it, his aunt spied a frontage road that seemed passable and wasn't being guarded by cops. That road took us right up to the international terminal, where, surprise, surprise, there was no traffic. We checked in and made it to our gates only slightly damp and with 20 minutes to spare before the flight took off.

Just 8 minutes late.

Many of the people on the plane were soaked to the bone from their trudge through the mud and the plane was only half full because of all the people who could not make it into the airport. As we taxied down the runaway, a huge lake of water sprayed next to us, and I finally started crashing out of the adrenaline into a heap of messy laughter.

Appa and I simply sat and laughed at the remarkable, amazing, and totally surreal experience we found ourselves in.

Freak flooding. Major overseas travel. No sleep. Teal everything. Baby.

Baby.

Baby.

Baby.