In Between Doses

It's been over a month since I wrote in this space.

Honestly, I didn't have words.  To blournal the small things seemed wrong when the BIG things were looming.  But the BIG things felt too overwhelming to write about, and frankly, I just didn't want to vent and moan.

But the truth is, that little pill kicks some serious baby butt.  The first few weeks were filled with side effects--horrible, sad side effects that left my sweet boy in physical and emotional pain.  That, in turn, left Appa and I nearly bereft for him.  Once the side effects tapered off, it became apparent the dose was too low, so we had to increase the dose again, restarting the side effects.

Swallow, melt down, repeat.  Swallow, melt down, repeat.

The bad news is that I have a mother's intuition that this dose/particular medication isn't going to be the right fit either.  The good news is I have total faith in our doctor and appreciate the slow and conservative approach to medicating a child off label (due to age).

The best news is that Little Bug is still thriving and continuing to improve his knowledge and capability to help himself.  We've made some big decisions for his education this Fall that we hope will give him his very best shot at making the most of his last pre-K year.  Although we are very much in the present with him right now, we're serious about positioning him for his academic future, and I am excited to start taking advantages of the many unique resources we have available.

As an aside: giving up a master bathroom to get into a really good school district was one of the best decisions I ever made.  Way to go, me 6 years ago!

So, the thing is, I need to move on from this.  Swallow, melt down, repeat is going to continue for a while, and I can't just censor myself anymore while I wallow in the cycle with my baby love. I'm going to make a concerted effort to blournal more about the daily things like I used to.  Maybe I will blournal about Little Bug's new trick of taking his underoos off and peeing on the floor when he gets angry or about Little Bro's daily expository speeches.  Maybe I'll blournal about my baby sister moving the the freaking Philippines for an 18-month mission or how she and I wasted an hour and a half watching possibly the most pointless movie in the whole world simply because Adam Brody was in it (my choice).

And Lee Min Ho is filming a new drama.  Since Appa just bought me the complete Rosetta stone for Korean, I'm now officially on my way to becoming fluent in my children's' birth language.....right?

Or maybe I will blournal about the week we just spent on my Aunt's farm in Michigan.  How Little Bug and Little Bro had smiles mile wide on their faces from morning to night with attitudes to match.  How perfect it was.

And can be.

And is.

Lights and Rain

There is at least one or two times a day when something pops into my mind or happens and I think, "I must remember to blournal that."  Yet, in the last month my mental blournal list has sat stagnant, mostly unwritten or half written, some written and deleted, and some forgotten.  And the reason isn't because I don't have time to blog or even motivation.  I'm just simply interested in doing other things during nap time or bedtime lately.

Because life is quite lovely right now.  My family is happy, my sons are both going through some wonderful maturing phases, my husband has had a couple excuses to come home earlier in the week, my home is more consistently in order, and my world just feels very comfortable.

Of course, not every moment of every day has been rainbows, unicorns, and kittens, but it's been good enough that even the bad things like illness and crummy weather don't seem so defeating.

So instead of rehash all the lovely little moments I've missed blournaling, I'll just mention two things about today.

The rain and the lights.

It was raining all day today.  Not the violent storms we experienced this summer that have left me a teeny bit traumatized, but the constant steady rain that sounds like a soothing CD and reminds me of my family cabin near Yellowstone National Park (my mental "happy place").  I opened the windows and Little Bro and I went peacefully about our day caring for our home, giggling and cuddling with each other, learning our letters, not pushing each others buttons, and listening to the rain.

It was just the sort of day that made me stop and think "I don't want to be anywhere in the world more than I want to be right here, right now."

And the lights.  This morning, in a spur-of-the-moment attempt to avoid loading the dishwasher after breakfast, I finally took control of an area of my house that I have aesthetically hated for a long time.  We needed some more light in our dark and deary front room, but the outlets and layout didn't lend itself to anything.  On a whim, I dug out some old lamps of ours and moved some stereo equipment my husband had just piled practically near our TV.  It was free, took about ten minutes, and had made all the difference to me. The soft yellow glow of the lamps and the cleaner look of the area in general has left me feeling all warm and cozy inside all day long.

And that is where my head and heart are at right now.  Warm and calm and soothed and refreshed.  And when seasons like that come into your life, I think it's worth remembering.

You, Me, and Us

 

We've all spent the last week changing.  Each one of the members of my family has had quite a week as we noticeably have started falling into our new normal.  With that new normal comes some inherent changes in each of us.

Little Bro and Little Bug are no longer only children.  For the first 2 weeks, they both, in their own way, resisted this change.  But in the last week, both boys have started embracing their roles as brothers.  Little Bug is becoming more tolerant (and even, dare I say it, empathetic) to Little Bro's transition and normal demands on our time and attention.  He is learning to give him space when he needs it.  He is beginning to accept that we can't always read his favorite book at night first or watch Yo Gabba Gabba's Train episode all the time.  He is beginning to explore this whole "big boy versus little boy" idea, which is helping him with some independent play skills.  Hopefully it will also one day help him stop from trying to "sit on Little Bo" because the reality is we really do have one BIG boy and one LITTLE boy.

Little Bro came out of his personal hell stronger and braver than I could have imagined.  It humbles me when I think of the strength and resilience my sons have already had to dig deep for in their little lives.  Although they won't remember it, the lingering effects, both good and bad, will always be with them.  I truly believe that.

Little Bro is embracing us as people he likes, trusts, and wants to be with.  As is normal, sometimes he pulls back, but in general, this week we've seen more of the real Little Bro, the fiery, fast, funny, and curious child we met in Seoul.  He has started giving all of us (including his big brother) unprompted hugs, and he and I are developing a pretty tender and intimate sleep routine that fosters a lot of attachment.  Things that were too intimate for him before (like brushing teeth, changing clothes or diapers, giving medicine) are now less trauma and more just a typical toddler affront to life.  He's started throwing tantrums again, as opposed to grieving, which is oddly encouraging.  In the biggest hallelujah, he's started eating solids for us.  That alone is a HUGE step. Just in general, he seems happier, more comfortable, and less like he is desperately wishing for something he won't be able to have again.

Appa is, not surprisingly, doing best of us all.  He's an emotions-close-to-the-vest kind of guy, but watching Little Bro literally loss his will to exist last weekend was an eye-opening experience for him, I think.  Even then, he was the rock who spread himself thin so that he could focus on Little Bug while still taking care of me while I focused on Little Bro.  At one point, during a dark day, I looked over at him and thought "Thank God this is the man who I picked to be the father to my babies."  He's a keeper, my Appa.

And me....I'm doing better than I expected, with everything but blogging, that is.  Living life is getting easier and more normal, but writing about it is still a bit tedious.  After my serious bout with post-adoption depression last time, I've been watching and examining myself for any indications of those feelings so I could deal with them immediately.  Surprisingly, other than the very normal, sleep deprived "THIS IS THE WORST MOMENT OF MY LIFE"  feelings during the late nights while watching my sweet son shatter into a million sad pieces, I haven't felt the feelings I did last time.  I think a large part of it is due to already being a mother, so the jolting loss of freedom isn't there this time.  I think is also helps that Little Bro is older and more engaging.  In short, bringing home a baby was slightly boring and gave me more time to stew in depression, while this time Little Bro, at 22 months, is able to immediately interact in a more meaningful and fun way (although as I write this he is zoning out to Phung Phungie).  

With Little Bro's grief aside, the hardest thing has been trying to find balance.  I have found that my identity now is not the mother of two little boys, but rather, as Little Bug's mother and Little Bro's mother and Appa's wife and myself...each role needing its own attention and not a simple lump together.  The reality is that two-child shopping cart I have been eying out  for the last year is actually really cumbersome to push.  You can't easily go one way on a whim, instead you have to position the whole darn thing and slowly make your turns. 

And that is my life right now...slowly making the turns that lead my whole family in a new direction. But that's not a bad thing.

Distance

It's 6,541 miles between where I sit tonight, on my couch with my TWO sons miraculously slumbering in their rooms upstairs and where I was a week ago.  I was sure that I'd be blournal the hell out of my trip to Korea, and while I would lay in bed at night unable to sleep, I would formulate what I wanted to say, but the words could never come out when I would sit down to write them.

The truth is, sometimes life is just too intense, and I need to process it before I can get it out of my head....I need distance.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about how instead of feeling this sense of connection between Little Bug and his birth country, the awkward subway rides where people would stare, tut, or talk to him in Korean before realizing that he had no idea what they were saying made it painfully clear to me that unless I find a way to get my sons at least semi-fluent in their first language, they will never be able to return as anything but a foreigner.  I know how badly I wanted to be able to communicate and connect with the people of Korea, and that longing must be nothing compared to what my sons could one day feel.  The distance of silence made me realize that my goal shouldn't be to just bring them back to Korea every couple of years, but rather, I need to give them the tools so they can go back on their own someday.  The connection isn't mine to foster because it's one I will never have myself...ultimately they will need to reconnect to their birth culture on their own.  But without language, they won't be able to do that.  This trip made that crystal clear.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about the way it felt to spend the evening with Little Bug's foster family.  How effortless it was, even with the language barrier.  How calling them family isn't just lip service anymore, but a real, true relationship based on love for each other, not just a common love for one little boy.  I'm not sure I will ever have the words to describe how right it felt that evening.  It wasn't even a "full circle" feeling because this is a circle that just keeps on going.  We'll have more evenings like this, I am sure.  There is so much loss in adoption, but watching my son cuddle into the first parents he ever knew made me thank God that we've been able to save such a precious relationship that my son will be able to cultivate all through his life.  To be loved is a wonderful thing.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about how I turned 30 and didn't even give it a second thought.  Instead I spent the day touring a beautiful city's historical offerings.  Clearly the cure for midlife birthday depression is to spend the day exploring Seoul.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about how natural it felt to see Little Bro in the flesh.  How after all this time waiting, there wasn't any dramatic heart palpitations, just a very calm feeling of recognition.  But after that first meeting, I noticed a twinge in my heart that had never been there before.  I missed him.  But not like I missed him for the last year.  Instead of missing the child, I missed the spunk, the chatter, the mischievous twinkle, and stubborn set of the jaw.  That was the moment I knew in my heart that he was truly my son.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about the way I would get physically sick every time I thought about Little Bro's foster family.  How worried and heartbroken I was for them. To gain joy through the pain of someone else is something I won't ever be able to reconcile.  As I sit here tonight, it keeps me up, gnawing at my heart and mind.  I pray and hope that someday we can connect in a more meaningful way that we have to date, but I realize that wish is selfish on my part, both for my son and my benefit.  But really, it's not about either of us.  It's about them. And I hope they find peace, however they choose to find it.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about watching my sons become brothers.  How hard it is to see them both suffer from what is inherently a loss of individuality and personal attention.  How hard it is to balance transitions of two children with completely different needs and temperaments who, at least for now, don't seem to mesh.  I wasn't expecting them not to mesh. In all my million of prepared scenarios, that was never one I considered. And it makes me sad.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about the way this trip changed me.  It was bound to, of course, just by the nature of it. I'm more jaded and more hopeful, all at once.

But for all this, I needed the distance of space and time.  I needed to mull it over, move away from the rawness of it all, before I could find words suitable enough to share.  Words that I didn't want to sob or scream or sing.

And now that it's out, I feel free again.  I can go on with my life, capturing the moments both my sons give me and exploring my evolving definition of motherhood.

A definition that still includes a whole subsection on bodily fluid, as Little Bro wasted no time proving to me he can roll with his big brother in that department.

Productive

In the last week I've felt the anxiety and obsession with the wait reach a new level.  I decided instead of writing about it, I was going to sit in silence.  Instead of stalking the forums and message boards (although, don't get me wrong, I've still got my finger firmly on happenings there), I channeled my energy into making a dent in the things that were stressing me out.

And there are plenty.

So this week, instead of blogging, I painted Little Bug's new big boy room after he went to sleep and wrote letters to my son's birth mothers.  I shopped for gifts.  I wrote three blog posts and didn't push publish on any of them just because I wasn't feeling it. I watched Little Mermaid with Little Bug over and over.  I didn't catch up on e-mails and I didn't pour over videos and pictures of Little Bug or highlight sentences in my toddler adoption book.  I didn't respond to many blog or Facebook posts. I read Rainbow Valley by Lucy Maude Montgomery and watched the train-wreck third movie in the Anne of Green Gables series.

All in all, a productive week spent doing something other than obsessing.

Making a Home in 2011

I'm not being dramatic when I admit that I kind of suck at being a homemaker. Despite being raised by a wonderful stay-at-home-mom who cooked every night and made our Halloween costumes; having a sister who feels guilty if her floors are not spotless and actually studies a homemaker's guide that was published at the turn of the century; and being raised in a culture where every Tuesday night from ages 12-18 I spent an hour or two in an organized class learning some sort of housekeeping skill like ironing dress shirts, sewing, scrap booking, knitting, and cooking; I am a horrible homemaker.

Appa totally got hoodwinked when he signed up for this domestic goddess.

I don't have good cleaning skills. I'm like a binge and purge cleaner. Dishes will sometimes sit in my sink for days or my dust bunnies will earn the right to register to vote in their corner precincts, but when I do clean, I am all over every little detail, from the baseboards to the inside of the stove vent. That just doesn't happen very often, and even less now that Little Bug is around. I'm a good, but inconsistent cleaner.

Last year I made a lot of New Year's resolutions that I thought were simple and manageable. Turns out, my single resolution should have been to keep my resolutions. I made decent progress on about half my goals (and considering that I am typing this while drinking a DDP, failed miserably with others).

This year I decided to try a new approach.

New Month Resolutions.

My theme for the year will be, to steal a phrase from a brilliant friend of mine, home care. Each month I will select a very small detail of home care that I can focus on. Conventional wisdom and inspirational posters tell me that 21 days will be all I need to make that small change in home care a habit.

My NMRs will be small because I know myself, and lofty goals just aren't working for this working mama. I'm still trying to think about which habit I will undertake for January, but I plan to document it on my blournal so I can hold myself accountable.

I'll tell you what it won't be....this giving up DDP completely crazy talk.

Unplugged

A major source of contention in my marriage is my "pluggedness." I use the internet to keep me company when my husband travels, connect and nourish friendships with people, write, and research things that are important to me.

Appa would prefer I did less of all that during our limited time together. Usually he has a point, and although he might not think so, I have been trying to be less plugged in when he is home.

This vacation I decided to try to unplug. Besides the occasional e-mail checking (I'm actually still waiting for an formal update on Little Bro--how greedy am I?), and one blog post that I had to get off my chest, I've been almost completely unplugged for 5 days.

And it was great....magical, even.

Appa and I fell asleep when our son did most nights. We watched fireworks from our hotel room and sports news. We chatted. We didn't read or get on the computer or do anything other than just stare at each other and laugh at our crazy child.

It was easy to get caught up in the family moments. Work and Facebook and blogs and e-mail (I had exactly 200 this morning when I checked) just didn't seem to hold a candle to spending time with my boys.

As happy as I am to be connected again, there is a part of me that wishes I could stay back behind those colorful gates that seem to keep the "real world" at bay while simultaneously reminding you what is truly, truly real in your life.

This is the Moment

Sometimes a moment hits me square in the face, and I have this intense need to preserve it.

Last night Little Bug was taking a bath ("bubba baff", a two-word combo with some hard sounds that I am ridiculously proud of). It was past his bedtime, and I was anxious to get him to sleep. I wasn't completely, totally, 100% in the moment.

Little Bug has a nasty new trick where he likes to turn the faucet on and off. We're being very strict about this for a number of boundary and water temperature safety reasons, but my boy is stubborn and patient, making bath time one of vigilance and lameness on my part. Usually he gets his little fingers onto the faucet handle but is denied turning it. Sadness ensues. Regroup. Repeat attack.

Last night, after about 5 minutes of this dance (and after I had turned the water off for good), he finally found a moment of my weakness and quick as a flash, turned the faucet on.

Quick as it happened, I turned it off to preserve the boundary, but Little Bug, oh my baby boy......

The moment the water turned on he reeled back in total stunned elation. He let out this CRAZY triumphant laugh that was a mix between a surprised yelp and a victorious battle cry. The sound was one of the most hilarious things I have ever heard.

As I ducked my head in my shoulder to hid my laughter from a "should-be-getting-a-stern-looking-at Little Bug" all I could think was

This is the moment I want to blournal.

Family. Work. Sleep.

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

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

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

Family. Work. Sleep.

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

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

The people, not the medium.

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

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

Family. Work. Sleep.

I Wanted to Write About....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Praying For His Buddies

When we announced Little Bro's referral, I was shocked when FOUR people contacted me to tell me they had been "looking" at his profile and even a few of them has requested his information after we had. One friend, in particular, told me that she had been praying specifically for our son to have his family find him.

Well, whaddya know, we did.

Of course, we weren't actually looking for him. It just sort of happened that we looked randomly and were given the strong feeling that we needed to "explore" his information more. We had NO business exploring a waiting child. We were close to a referral. We had paid all our money. We had no plans to adopt an "older child." But in the end, we listened to that little feeling that prompted us to just consider it.

And we found our son. Little Bro, Big Star, Two of Two loves of our lives. Our perfect, healthy, son and his referral that was not nearly as scary as we thought accepting a waiting child would be.

And since then, I check that photo listing at least once a day to see the other little babies and toddlers and kids who have not found their families yet. The majority are thriving and carry the label of their "special need" only on their profile...not in their daily lives. Just like my friend, I pray for these little ones now. I KNOW how perfect they most likely are, but I also KNOW how scary the label "waiting child" is for parents. I literally get giddy when a profile is highlighted as "Matched."

And I swore I would not do this again, but I feel so strongly today that I should share this link to my friend's blog who is publicly advocating for the little boy her son lived with in Korea. A little boy whose picture I gaze at each day on that list. A little boy who has a family and life ahead of him. A little boy who is just like my Little Bro and every other little kid in the world. Perfectly imperfect.

I will forever be shocked at Appa and my choice to pursue our son's referral. We lost money, time, and perceived process security, but we gained a son that I feel to the bottom of my soul is the one meant to be in our lives forever.

All because we looked and thought about it and took a chance. My gut was leading me there, whether I knew it or not. If yours is, you should follow it. When it says stop, stop. When it says go, go.

I try not to write posts to people other than myself and my kids on this blog. But, I feel strongly today to share this link, so I'm going with it.

Maybe this is not a link you will feel compelled to click.

Maybe this is just going to be a blog that you end up enjoying.

Maybe this is going to open your eyes to waiting child adoption and lead you to the photo listings? Or maybe help you lead someone else there? Maybe that won't lead you anywhere but to increased awareness, or maybe, like her blog did for me, it will lead you ultimately to your child?

Or maybe this is your son?

All of these options are okay and right. But you never know until you at least think about it.

A Short Note

I am not a woman of few words, but I encounter a lot who are...especially adoption social workers. I assume this is due to lessons they've learned that when it comes to the words you say to desperate parents who hang onto your every letter, you are more careful with your words. And indeed, as a parent who is desperate and does hang on every word, this brief way of communication privately annoys disappoints me.

Yesterday I sent our new social worker a short (read: two paragraphs) e-mail with an update on our nonupdate. I didn't ask any questions and didn't even really expect a response back. I basically just wanted her to know that we hadn't forgotten about Little Bro and that we were still trying whatever we could to make the process speed up (which, by the way, is not an option).

To my surprise, I got a swift, one line response:
He is your little guy—just waiting for you to get through all of these hurdles…

This might seem insignificant, but it was exactly what I needed to hear at this point. Not a bunch of whens and at that points and as soon as, but just a short note validating that even though all the major players might not formally think so yet, where it counts, Little Bro is our little guy.

And really, what else needs to be said?

Opening the Flood Gates

The last month has been very hard for my big mouth. I deal with my emotions best by writing them out, and this has been a very emotional month for me. The number of half written and completed entries is staggering. Some I will probably never publish (many just various forms of wailing), but the ones that I want Little Bro to one day have will be published as it feels right.

The last couple days have been divine. The referral high is different this time; instead of the jolt of excitement that came with Little Bug's surprise referral, Little Bro's referral has been a slow burn that has sometimes stung and has now settled into this really warm feeling right in the center of my chest. It's protecting me from what has become almost immediately bad news.

Little Bro isn't coming home for a LONG time. He's not going to be even remotely a baby when he steps into our home. We'll be waiting nearly and possibly entirely a year for him to come home.

A couple weeks ago this news might have been devastating. It might have even tried to worm enough doubt into our minds to sway our resolve to be brave and listen to our guts. We've never really considered an "older child" adoption. Yet here we are, not even 48 hours into our wait for our baby, and we find out he'll never be a baby to us.

And I am shocked to find I don't care. Obviously I care that he will have a harder transition and that we will miss so much, but the situation is not one that can be changed, no matter what anyone does. Somehow just the knowledge that Little Bro will come home is enough to make me dig in my heels, hire a Korean tutor, buy another Korean cookbook, reach out to other families with experience with older children transitions, and resolve to do whatever needs to be done. I would rather have him at 24 months than never at all. Hell, I'll wait as long as it takes.

Cheerfully explaining this to my surprised new social worker (who might think I have a hearing problem or a screw loose now) when she called the break the bad news reminded me of an entry I wrote on April 12 (which was a bad day all the way around). It essentially set the tone for our outlook on this new journey for our family (at least in my mind because I only recently shared some of these entries with Appa, who is definitely not a "write-it-out" sort of person).

April 12, 2010
------------------------
Little Bro. My big star. You are going to be a tenacious little thing, aren't you.

I don't know how else to put this…but it's would be so much easier to just pretend we never saw your face and move on with our "plan." You know, if we could forget you, which we can't, because you are 100% unforgettable. Even in this time of uncertainty, I write you notes and steal looks at your picture and get panic attacks when I think of any other child being my Little Bro. Because your mama is a huge geek, I have often come back to the popular phrase: "What is easy is not always right, and what is right is not always easy." Our sudden journey to you is not easy, but man, baby boy, does it feel right.

You're worth fighting for, and that is what your Appa and I are doing. Both in our own minds and hearts and with all the other external factors that stand in the way of getting you in our arms. We're being brave, having faith, but being realistic and careful because we only want what is best for you…and we know there might yet be a chance that we are not.

But we hope we are.

.....

Sometimes I have SO much to say that I literally can't say anything at all. In the past few days I have started and scrapped no less than 5 blournal entries.

I'm hoping getting this out will fix the block I have with sharing any of my feelings.

I hate being patient. I hate secrets. I hate anticipation. I hate fear and uncertainty. I hate placing my trust in others. I love secrets. I love the thrill of anticipation. I love having people around me that I can trust. I love learning to be patient and overcoming fear and uncertainty...okay, I'm still working on the last one.

I got on my knees last night and prayed...hard. The naked truth is that I'm a person filled with faith, but I'm pretty confused sometimes as to what my faith is in. But last night I prayed and was filled with an overwhelming conviction.

My life is good. So good.

So buoyed with that reminder and conviction, I'm feeling lighter and ready.....

I'm also feeling ready to start back in with my deep musings on toddler bodily fluids, so things are definitely clearer now...

Oh, Irony

I wrote a post today essentially complaining about various menial things that were making me blue.

Then I read a post on a bulletin board and thought, "wow, this lady is just listing off random little things to complain about....probably because she is in a bad mood. She needs to stop and listen to herself."

Oh, giggle.

So I deleted my post, pulled up my big girl pants, and had a little laugh at myself. I'm still in a blue mood, but I'm not going to be that woman.

Happy Friday.

The Rambles of a Sleep-Deprived Mama

I've been having a hard time focusing lately. I kept wanting to blournal this or that, but when I actually attempt to write it out, nothing comes.

So here are some rambles of late that don't really warrant a single post, but are still things that hit me as "get this down; get this down!"

Daily life is mundane, but that can be okay. Routine is boring, but it's also incredibly comforting. I was thinking back to the first few days with Little Bug and how hopped up on adrenaline we were. He was finally here! We were finally parents! OMG, he just did this; he just did that! Thousands of days later, that adrenaline is replaced with this deep, calm satisfaction that although every day might not be this life-changing, heart-pounding collection of moments, each day is filled with the little moments that make life wonderful and the promise of thousands and thousands more of days just like it. I'm looking forward to that, to continuing to share the little moments with Little Bug. Putting him to bed next week, next month, 5 years from now. That sort of life stretched out before me is exciting to think about.

I have been working on a long overdue Blurb book of our blog posts from Korea. This book is dedicated to Little Bug and includes blog comments, personal e-mails, private pictures, and additional commentary that we have not shared publicly. It's a book chronicling our trip, but from an emotional standpoint, as well as educational and factual perspective. Going through the thousands of pictures and video brought back a lot of emotions for me. I so sincerely hope Appa and I can do our jobs right and Little Bug will grow up proud of that period in his life, proud of his Korean heritage, proud of his birth family and foster family, and proud of us. I want him to love Korea like I do…actually, I want him to love it even more.

The terrible twos are terrible. I hate when people tell me three is worse than two. Please stop saying that to this mama. How many earth-shattering meltdowns can one child have when being denied a romp outside in the rain in the dark at bedtime? I guess it is my fault; he does get his coat and our keys and wait expectantly at the door for 30 seconds. We are warned.

I need to start taking pictures again. I've been so remiss, which is unlike me. I think the combination of Little Bug's illnesses and attitude and my illness and lack of energy have taken a toll, and the mama photography has been cast aside. I'll regret anything less that 75 pictures this month; I know I will. I'm currently at 6 pictures, all from one zoo outing. Getcha going, mama.

Speaking of my camera, it's sitting on the charger, completely charged with a blank memory card. Waiting. Waiting for the phone to ring with Little Bro's referral and the hour long meeting I plan to tape, just as I did with Little Bug. I see it each morning, and it taunts me. I'm doing it to myself.

The wait is getting harder. We "truly" waited only 2 weeks for Little Bug's referral, so this type of waiting is foreign to me. I'm stalking almost hourly our agency's tracking list (which has not been updated in 13 days) to see if a referral has come in to bump us up. There's added pressure now for us to get a referral soon, where I used to feel much more at peace with "whenever it happens, it happens." It's more of a struggle for me to center myself there now.

I'm lucky to have such great friends. From my BFF who is just my rock in all things me to my random friends who drop me e-mails just to check up on the "super virus" to my adoption buddies turned GNO buddies and Faceb**k gossiping buddies, my adult personal life is at a very good place right now.

Just checked the agency tracking list again; no change. I'm not joking either.

My illness made me lose 14 pounds recently. These were pounds I easily had room to lose, but I am loving the way my body felt with them gone. It's been a week holding at the new weight, and although I want to lose more (only in a healthier manner), I'm starting to get used to the new feel of my body and forget that pleasurable constant reminder that it's nice to not weigh more. I need to try to hold on to that feeling as a motivator to continue to make healthier choices.

Diet Dr. Pepper is back in my life, courtesy of a well-meaning Appa who bought me home a 36 pack to celebrate me kicking the habit. Yeah, THAT makes sense. Add in total sleep deprivation, and I am knocking back one a morning now. Does it count for something if I feel guilty about it every time?

Finally, I've come to the conclusion that I don't need to drag out the learning centers and big guns in the evening to entertain my kid. He seems most content to just hang out with us, often sitting next to us cuddling while reading books or listening to music. This lack of physical activity for our family in the evenings used to worry me, but now I realize that just like I am tired and wanting to decompress from a long day at work, so does my kid. There is no better way to do that than together.

Ital, Fair Thee Well, Old Friend.

I doubt it has escaped anyone's notice that one of my indulgences in my non-editor downtime is the gratuitous overuse of italics (the other is, sadly, the refusal to reread and proof my own posts and e-mails). I just love a good italicized word or phrase.

Sadly, after spending a few hours turning my 2009 posts into my actual hardcopy journal (courtesy of Blurb.com), I realized that ital doesn't transfer over from the conversion. There is absolutely no way I can go back through 120+ pages and add the ital back in.

Devastation.

So, goodbye old friend. The new year brings with it a new formatting approach.

My Webafesto

Disclaimer: If you are reading this, there is a 99.99999% chance that I am not talking about you. I'm nervous about posting it, but it's is where my head is at this morning.

Sometimes you have to clean out your closet, or your fridge, or your car, etc., and get all the old, stale, nasty stuff you don't use and don't need out of your daily life.

Lately I have been doing that with less tangible things (and not just because I hate cleaning my car and am avoiding it). The internet is an amazing thing and connects me to people and things and ideas in ways that have enriched my life. When I moved to a new state 2 years ago and was searching for a job and adjusting to my husband's new job demands, an internet book club provided me with my only outlet for making friends. Some of those friends transcended from "internet friends" to "local [insert book club name here] friends" and a smaller portion became just "dear friends" who are in my life and the lives of my husband and son (the ultimate mark of acceptance from me) for multiple reasons.

By that same token, I have spent the last year splashing around in the world of adoption blogs and boards and listserves. Again, I've made "adoption bloggy friend," some of who transitioned into "local adoption friends," and some who have even just become "friends who happen to have/are also adopted from Korea." More and more of the people I met in the adoption community are becoming wonderful friends for my family, and I love that.

I treasure all these "adoption" friendships, both the ones that I might never get to meet in real life and the ones who I meet for tea or zoo trips or a burger and apple cider ale. The support and friendship and fellowship and advice and commiseration and fan-girling is all things that make me smile and bring joy to my life. That is a good thing.

However, like that sweater you bought on clearance last summer that is taking up prime space in your closet, even though you know you will NEVER wear it again, some things in the Internet worlds I spent time in are probably outstaying their welcome and need to go.

I started by almost completely removing myself from my book club "fandom," which was taking up time in my life that I could have and should have devoted to my family. I'd made my friends and had my fun, but I was no longer getting anything of real value from the time I was devoting to those other "relationships." It hurt some people who I had chatted with online, but ultimately, those not-in-real-life relationships are meaningless compared to my real-life relationships and there are just so many hours in the day. My family and I have all benefited from this break, and those who were true friends still call me up to chat about life…not just a book series. That is real.

The issue of the Internet adoption community is a different beast and one that I am having a harder time with. I love checking blogs, and I love writing blogs, and I love chatting with other adoptive moms who I have connected with one way or the other. Unlike my above mentioned relationships, I see long-lasting value in cultivating relationships with people that I might never actually meet because the support I will need as my child grows is something only these other women can provide. So in that respect, I'm happy with my "friends" and always looking for more.

HOWEVER, I've found there are some other areas of the adoption community that are no longer for me, specifically the boards. Now, I am not judging anyone, and honestly right now, there are a lot of weird and heartbreaking and frustrating things going on in an otherwise very stable program and specifically with people who I "know" (and this is NOT directed at them, for those of you who also "know" them), but I just can't do it anymore with those nameless, faceless people.

The complaining about timeframes, the bickering about circumsion or cosleeping or baby carriers or guest house versus hotel or travel versus escorting, the minutia of the I-[insert any number of numeric combinations], VI, P3, EP and the fever pitched highs and lows that come with those daily check-up calls, and the refusal of people to accept that all adoptions are not created equal and cannot be compared apples and apples, agency to agency, Lillipie ticker to Lillipie ticker is exhausting to me.

I'm not saying people shouldn't complain, only that they should reserve their complaining for the things that really deserve to be complained about. Some people have some really legitimate sucky things happening to their adoptions right now, and I completely sympathize and understand their need to reach out for support and welcome that. But the "OMG it's been 4 weeks since whatever, and I just cannot wait anymore (even though their agency told them it would be this long or longer)" or "I wasn't informed by my SW of so and so (even though there is NO reason your SW would call you out of the blue to tell you about something that doesn't immediately affect you)" or whatever angers me. It's negativity that breeds negativity because everyone rushes to "support" by affirming the injustice of it all and how awful it is.

That's not support; that is mass hysterics and doesn't do anyone any good. Certainly not our children, the agencies, or our hearts. Especially our hearts. Yet, somehow I continue to get sucked into it. I read the threads, I read the blogs, I read the messages. I occasionally try to respond in a supportive but level-headed manner, but find that I tend to look heartless. My outlook on the adoption process (i.e., I'm not OWED anything or any specific time frame and the only thing that is constant about adoption is that you should expected the unexpected, but that at the end of it, you WILL have your child) works for me, but not for everyone and some people have or are having very different experiences than mine that I might not understand, and I need to accept that.

So I have.

I've stopped going to the most boards I find to be filled with the most mass hysteria and rumors. I have started to hold my tongue on a listserv that is home to people who I actually care about on a personal level when things get a little heated and unkind there, and I have stopped following some blogs that are filled with negativity or views on parenting/life that don't add anything of value to my own. I casually skim some of the more aggravating list serves instead of reading the actual comments and taking the time to respond.

Support for those who are in true crisis and who need prayers and good thoughts is something I will always have, but I'm honestly all our of support for the people who want to complain and stir up trouble and gossip just for something to do or because they are having a bad week. It might be selfish or egotistical of me, but the negativity certain things were bringing up in me is unnecessary negativity and not something that needs to be passed on to my son. (Did you know it is a medical fact that children can sense and absorb the mood of their parents, including depression, anger, and fear?)

I acknowledge that this post is my own little drop of negativity out into the world, but I have noticed a marked increase in my daily happiness when I don't allow myself to spend 10 minutes getting sucked into the vortex of all the things that I know are bringing my own mood down--in ALL of my Internet dealings. I now fill myself up with hope for what will be, excitement for what is, compassion for those who are hurting, brilliance and simplicity of parenting ideas and incorporating culture and book recommendations and recipes and picture after picture of pumpkin patches and Tol celebrations and silly smiles and hugs that never fail to bring a smile to my face.

So many things in life, and especially in adoption, are totally outside our control. How I choose to spend my Internet time and fill my head and heart, however, is completely in my control.

The Unintended Road, Part II

Well, not really, but that title just sort of stuck with me.

First, thanks for the comments on the last few posts. After I posted my little missive, I was a little overwrought with whether or not I had been too truthful, or whether I had accurately conveyed that while I was feeling the things I was feeling, I truly AM happy exactly where I am (which, at this moment, happens to be listening to Classical Baby and the background sounds of Appa and Little Bug snoring away in a much fought for nap).

However, I've also been thinking a lot more since that post, and I've come up with a lot of other parts of my life that have changed in the last year....unintended changes, if you will. All of them are positive too, which is nice.

Today I am moved to write about one. Little Bro.

I've probably not mentioned Little Bro before because he currently lives in my heart and perhaps is starting to live in his birthmother's womb, although I cannot be sure about that (see previous post about no longer placing dates on things outside my control).

One year ago, Appa and I had a plan. This plan included loving on Little Bug like there was no tomorrow and putting in our application for our next adoption as soon as we could (which was 6 month ago, today, hence why it's on my mind).

Only one year ago, Little Bro was Little Sis.

I'm dead serious when I say that I need to be the mother to a daughter. It's this huge, not-so-secret wish of mine. I need to be knee deep in ribbons and lace and sugar and spice and everything nice. So, it was a given that our next adoption would be requesting a girl.

Then that pesky "gut feeling" of mine started rearing its gutty-head. (I say gut, but I'm also well aware that it is something much more divine than that...it's just hard for me to really know what that is right now.) I would dream of two little BOYS playing together. Constantly. I had trouble imagining Little Bug with Little Sis, and I would get a bad feeling whenever I would tell myself to "shake this off."

Oh man, I was PISSED.

I want a girl soooo badly, and yet, we had always thought we would adopt three kids, two boys and a girl....just not in that order.

Or apparently, exactly in that order. Finally, I mentioned to Appa that I had been feeling that perhaps--I couldn't believe I was going to say it--we should apply for another boy instead of a girl, which he was fine with. Still, I struggled with this dream I didn't want to let go of at that moment.

Yet, when the time came to put in our application and we checked "either" (which in our agency's lingo = boy), I cried tears of joy. It felt right. This unintended road we were embarking on was exactly the right road for us.

So, 6 months later, and I am thinking of my second son and excited to see him someday. I fantasize about my two little boys playing together and of being that mama with two boys. Heck, I am still clueless about raising one boy, but I am thrilled to see what it's like to raise two. Truly, I am tickled blue about it.

And Little Sis? Oh, she is still here, wrapped in soft pink wishes in my heart. I know I'll see her someday, somewhere, somehow.

And if I don't? It will be because that pesky gut told me no. If that is the case, I will respect that....and then go play with some trucks.

No Wonder I Have A Huge Ego

Today two things happened that are completely unrelated to one another and simultaneously totally belong on the same day.

Event One: When I went to pick Little Bug from daycare today, one of the teachers who doesn't usually teach Little Bug was in the room. She proceeded to loudly proclaim to me that Little Bug was "the most loved and favorite child in the whole school." She said other teachers that had no business in the "Waddler Room" would regularly pop in to see Little Bug. This obviously made me feel great, but wasn't surprising. This might sound vain, and I know every mother thinks her baby is the best, but I actually think I have an unhealthy complex where I might sorta-kinda think that MY baby actually is the very best in the whole world. Comments like this do little to bring my baby mama ego in check.

Event Two: I decided to take our family blog private. I've been so attached to that blog for years, and it serves not only as our primary daily connection to our families (who lives across the country), but as a family journal (thank you blurb.com)! It grew from a tiny little "here's what boring old us did this week" to 100+ hits-a-day adoption/family blog/soap box. Appa hated the increase in nameless, faceless readers. It freaked him out. Normally it would freak me out, too. I am, after all, the one who insisted we remain unlisted in the phone directory....you know, just in case. Yet, for some reason I clung to that open blog.

The honest reason is that I loved to brag about my kid. He's so cute and funny. I liked to brag about our family' story and how we became a family. I liked sharing our diary posts from our time in Korea.

I liked people liking us.

But, in the back of my mind, a little voice has been growing louder and louder...telling me that what I was doing, the kind of information I was providing (and I'm not talking address and SSN here, but it wouldn't have taken a savvy hacker to find that stuff based on our blog information), was not in the best interest of my family.

Geez. When I put it that way.

So today when someone who I clearly didn't know from an area of the world that I really had a hard time believing anyone who would care about us was web surfing spent 1.5 hours reading every post I have written, every comment my family and friends have written in response, my gut reaction was "take the blog private."

Logical leap? Perhaps not. However, almost 11 months ago Appa and I were faced with the biggest decision of our lives, and it wasn't an easy one. Literally days before we were to get on the plane to go get Little Bug we got some news that was, in both our American agency and the Korean agency's eyes, a deal-breaker for most soon-to-be parents. With our bags half packed and our hearts full of desperate love and numbing fear, we had to decide whether or not to follow through with our intention to adopt Little Bug. We had little information and a lot of unknowns.

My gut told me then to get on that plane and get my baby.

So maybe my gut telling me today to take my blog private was nothing more than one too many Diet Dr. Peppers before 11 am, or maybe it was something more divine. Either way, when my gut talks now, I listen.

So, back to Event One and Event Two. I think my vanity highlighted in event one is feeding into the sadness I feel over losing the public blogging of event two. Perhaps this private blog will be good for my family in more ways than one.

But seriously, Little Bug is so freaking awesome.