Operation Spray

This weekend we packed up our tent, children, fireman boots, and wine and went camping a couple hours away.  Appa and I are passionate about helping our children develop a love for nature, a taste for food cooked over a campfire, and a reverence for falling asleep to the sounds of nothing more than insects buzzing and animals rustling. However, on this particular camping trip, we had one very specific camping goal for Little Bug and Little Bro.

It was time for homeboys to learn how to really rough it....by peeing in the woods.

I assumed this would be way easy and way fun for them.  After all, isn't that sort of thing right up little boys' alleys?  But, unfortunately my recent gentle reminders to "OMG NEVER PEE ON ANYTHING OTHER THAN THE TOILET...ESPECIALLY NOT YOUR BEDROOM FREAKING FLOOR AND CARPET" were taken to heart because the first time we showed our kids how to find a secluded spot and drop trou to relieve themselves, they both looked confused, then scared, then horrified.  And they would not go.

The thing was, perhaps we wouldn't have pushed it, but the actual toilets in the campground were way worse than anything Mother Nature could offer, and I had zero interest in sitting my babies' butts on those spider hotel poop pits.  They could hold it and come home and pee on the bedroom floor before I wanted them using those toilets again.

So Operation "Spray," as Little Bro coined it, began.

It took Little Bro a couple attempts, but it was ultimately his recent fascination with waterfalls that got him over the hump.  From then on, he regularly asked to "spray in the grass," and I consider myself lucky that he still understood that one does not "spray in the grass" in front of other people or their food or tents or pets.  Because I know he secretly wanted to.

Little Bug was our hold out, but I'm really proud of him for getting past what was obviously a confusing thing for him.  Little Bro peer pressure sent him over the edge, and he got comfortable with the program after a while.  Comfortable enough that I caught him twice trying to drop trou and "pee in the grass" on his own....in front of our tent.  You win some, you lose some.

I can now proudly say that my boys are well on their way to becoming true campers.  Just wait until they find out what our next camping operation will be!

Comedy

"Wear my socks in the bathtub."

[Cue laugh track]

Three nights ago Little Bug made what I have deemed to be his first official joke.  Sure, he's teased before, but he has never intentionally verbalized something he knew to be nonsensical with the expectation of getting a big reaction.

But 3 nights ago, as he was sitting on the toilet, naked but for his beloved electric green reindeer socks, he looked me in the eye, got this sneaky twisted smirk on his face, and told me he was going to wear his socks in the bathtub.

Of course, I acted MORTIFIED and then laughed and laughed.

And thus began Little Bug's new life as a comedian.

Nearly every hour of every day he gets that same smirk on his face and busts a line.  Because he is a 4-year-old boy, his favorite jokes all have to do with poop and pee pee.  Naturally.

"I pee pee in the bathtub"
"I pee pee in Little Bro's bed."
"I poo poo in Daddy's car."
"I poo poo in my underwear."

Why bother with new material when your routine works?

Every time he looks for it, the big reaction from us.  And we laugh and laugh and laugh, and it is clear that he feels like the smartest, most clever kid around.

I'm not a stand up comedy sort of gal, but I'll buy tickets to this show anytime.

Puppy Love

A couple nights ago a package with two wrapped gifts came for our soon-to-be 4 year old. He and his little brother crouched excitedly on the ground as he opened the first gift, an animatronic puppy. Because their mama is super allergic to animals, this puppy (which was aptly named "Brendan" after a friend, the first time Little Bug has ever independently named a toy) is the closest thing either will get to a pet.

I moved to give Little Bug his second gift, but he refused it, over and over again. Not because he only has eyes for Brendan, but because he insisted that the second gift was Little Bro's puppy. No matter how I explained the concept of birthday presents, Little Bug adamantly believed the other box was a puppy to bring joy to his brother.

Luckily, it was smaller animatronic animal, and although slightly confused and bummed that Little Bro didn't have a puppy like Brendan, they were both thrilled with the arrangement.

So although the second gift was intended to bring Little Bug joy, it turned out that the greatest joy for him was being able to share with his little brother.

There is nothing more amazing than watching the childlike love of two little brothers.

A Pile of More

Once, back many years ago when Appa and I were dating, he mentioned that he thought it was a bit odd that my family literally dog piled on top of each other when watching movies or lounging around.  Although I had never stopped to see it that way, it was true that my family could be found on any Sunday evening watching a Disney movie while looking like some couch form of family Twister.  We'd just grown up cuddling each other (not in a creepy, call-the-cops sort of way, of course) and never stopped, and that extended to siblings.

Tonight, as I rested my head on Appa's lap while Little Bro cuddled into his lap and nestled his hands into my hair and Little Bug draped his whole body over mine and anchored himself by digging his feet under my legs, I thought of that comment Appa made so many years ago and it made me smile to see a bit of a circle start to form.

There are many things I wish for my family to be 10 years from now, but one of them is a family who will still pile on the couch to enjoy the Lion King and the comfort and love we give to each other without reservation.

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.

45 Minute Glimpse

Today started badly.  Bad sleep, two grumpy kids and one grumpy mom, and no daddy made for a unhappy morning.  I also decided today would be a good day to force some potty training for both kids.  That lasted about 30 minutes.

I was determined to rally and knew the day was going to go up or down based on how I reacted.  A couple silly songs later, I managed to convince both kids to sit at their kiddie table and busted out the craft box.

Usually this activity can net me some decent interaction time with Little Bro, but has never lasted more than 10 minutes with Little Bug.  In fact, sitting still and focusing on anything for longer than a minute or two is so challenging for Little Bug, it is written into his IEP as a goal.  So craft or art time isn't really a go-to activity when Little Bug is home.

But today, with moderate cueing from me as I sat next to him, he participated in scissor work (or rather, scissor practice), markers, stickers, crayons, and playdoh (without even eating any).  He and his brother happily sat and created and played and giggled and focused.

For 45 minutes.

To me, that is a huge accomplishment.  Never have I seen Little Bug sit and focus for that long, and I certainly didn't feel like he was needing more cueing than he would receive with his aide at his developmental preschool.

Bottom line.  It was a huge win for us.

And that has bolstered me all day, especially considering we had a disastrous nap, and he spent his entire $150-an-hour sensory therapy session refusing to get out of a tub of dried beans, and he had not one, but TWO of his new and very disconcerting "car rages."

Because that 45 minutes gave me a glimpse of what I know will one day be able to be our new normals, and that makes fighting through the rest of today a whole lot easier.

The '85 Bears Would be Proud

Tonight Little Bro danced a dance I have been waiting 3 months to see.

The day we took custody of our Big Star, his foster mother sent us home with a final CD filled with pictures they took on his last night in their home.  I cherish these pictures, but one video of Little Bro dancing this awesome high-kick, tap-dance, Super Bowl Shuffle type dance while grinning stuck out, initially because it was so cute.  Then it stuck out because while Little Bro likes to get his groove on, never once since he has come home has he busted out that particular dance.

And believe me, I've tried all sorts of things to get it out of him, right down to doing the dance myself.

I know it's not truly important and probably means nothing, but I still mourn the loss of the child we saw in pictures and videos from Korea, because my child laughs a little different, looks a little longer before jumping, and seems a bit more jaded.  It's understandable based on what he has gone through, but he's also just getting older and more mature (for a 2 year old, of course).  I thought that maybe the dance was this little lost moment I'd never get to see for myself.

But tonight, after 2 days of some serious attachment loving Mamma/Big Star while Appa and Little Bug learn to hula in Hawaii without us (I don't want to talk about it), as I was singing a ridiculous song about bath time, I saw it.

The shuffle/high kick/tap dance while grinning routine.  Over and over again while I continued to belt out "Let's go take a bath, let's go take a bathhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."  And it was just as cute as it was in the video, cuter even, since it was finally in a moment we were sharing together.

The Name's Mama, Their Mama

My hair is a mess, strands of my ponytail out and frizzy.  I'm so terribly tired, physically a bit sick, and sore.  My feet and fingernails are dirty, and I am pretty sure I smell.

Yet, I can sit here in this stolen moment (and it truly is practically just a moment) and know without a shadow of a doubt that I was one bad a$$ mother today.  I rocked it hard from my rare 4:45 am wake-up call to the skipped nap to bedtime.

My kids got to see trains, jump in puddles, help bake super healthy veggie muffins, have a very long and physical music parade, read books, sing songs, help me tidy up our house, learn numbers, look at birds, play in a public fountain, get new Cars shoes that light up, and eat a decent meal outside.  It was just a charmed day, despite the fatigue, constant rain, and slightly messy house.  And I made it happen for them.

And everyday...heck, most days, won't be like this.  But today, I declare that I was a really great mama, and that is a nice ego boost.

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.

Brothers

Little Bug is so ready.

A year and a half ago Appa and I were concerned that we would need to “go on hold” due to Little Bug’s needs.  One year ago we knew Little Bug was closer to being ready and felt comfortable with the 6-8 month window we knew we had between Dong Sang’s referral and go time for Hyung. Of course, when 6-8 months stretched to 12-15 months total, the only bright spot was giving Little Bug a little more time as an only child.

And, at almost exactly a year later, our baby bug is no longer a baby and SO, SO, SO ready to be a big brother.  He’s blossomed so much in the last few months (and I know I always say that, but this kid, he is doing some mind blowing things lately).  His social habits have really evened out, and every morning and evening are filled with chatter about his friends.  Having a little brother will definitely be an adjustment, but I think Little Bug is at a place developmentally where he’ll feel more benefit and fun than jealousy and anger at having Little Bro home.

Except if Little Bro tries to take his raggies…..so Little Bro is on notice there.

But when I watch Little Bug at night, silly and happy and helpful and so aware, my heart just bursts with excited anticipation at the day when he realized that his hopefully-eventually-to-be best friend isn’t going anywhere.  It’s like this giant surprise that I can’t wait to see his reaction to.

Of course, we’re not adopting Little Bro to be a brother to Little Bug.  He has his own defined place in our family that has nothing to do with Little Bug.  We’re excited for him as a person, not for what he can bring to our older son.

But I hope that eventually Little Bro comes to see Little Bug as a really great surprise, too.

Because, mark my words, the moment these two connect will be a moment I will never, ever forget.  I hope this is the beginning of one of the most important relationships in the world for these two little boys.

For a mama who wanted sugar and spice and everything pink and nice, I can’t fathom being more excited about anything than I am about being the mama to little brothers.

The Darkness Excuse No Longer Works

Here is what the people who went past our house last night saw:

A mother, her dress clothes covered by her long dress coat and heels grating against the pavement, talking on the phone while pulling a 3-year-old little boy, also bundled up in winter gear to protect against the cold 30 degree temps, who was happily munching on french fries while taking the world in as his mother pulled his little red wagon up and down their driveway.

Up and down.  Up and down.  Up and down. Up and down.  Up and down.  Up and down.  Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.  Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.  Up and down. Up and down.

If a 3 year old wants an evening picnic and a wagon ride, there is little in the world that is going to stop him from getting just that. Especially when Daylight Savings Time has robbed his mother of her one sure argument against them.

7 Minutes of Mama

A blog friend recently tagged me for a blog game/award.  I don't usually do those sorts of things, especially on this blog, because I fancy this blog one day being the "journal" my children will pour through to get a sense of who their mother was now....then.  So, in that spirit, I'll offer up seven things my sons and others might not know about me.

1. I listen to a single song on repeat for comfort.  Rarely do I listen to an album all the way through or shuffle my iTunes.  I pick one song, set it on repeat, and let it go for hours.
2. I watch videos and look at pictures of Little Bug and Little Bro daily, almost hourly.  I use it as a mental break/grounding technique when my brain is fried.
3. I was a darn good policy debater in high school.  My partner (who is now my best friend's husband) and I won more tournaments that I can count or remember.  We were ranked #2 in the state at one point and in the top 5 for our entire senior year.  We also made national waves when we were the dark horses from little 'ol Idaho who won the JV division at the Stanford National Tournament in California.  We were robbed of going to Nationals, not that I'm still bitter about it.  I also placed in the State speech tournaments my junior and senior year.  I've still got the state medals and the giant trophy from Stanford.  I gave up college debate opportunities to go to the same school as Appa.  I don't regret that choice.
4. If I hadn't have started teaching in the rural school that I did, I think there is a good chance I would be a teacher still today.  I couldn't relate to the students in the school I was at, and after seeing the way some parents treated their kids and the way those students reacted in turn (although that isn't just an issue in rural districts), I just grew to hate interacting with the students and left the field cold turkey.  It was probably a little cowardly, but I am happier now in my desk job with my books to keep me company at night.  Sometimes I miss it, but not often.
5. I will always regret not studying abroad.  Appa would have supported it, but I was so focused on getting through school and getting married that I lost out on a lot of things.  That was all my doing, not his.  One of the curses of a high school romance that lasts, I suppose.
6. I have to touch the outside on an airplane before I get on it, right at the spot where the door is.  It's a nervous habit that has turned into a swift moment where I "commune" with the airplane not to crash.  Nervous habit or obsessive compulsive tendency....I've never missed doing it for as long as I can remember.  I actually take Little Bug's hand and make him do it too.  Probably not a great idea to pass obsessive tendencies on to your children...sorry, baby boy.
7. I can't write in cursive.  I truly don't know how to correctly write the majority of the letters in cursive.  Sometimes, if I have to, I write in print with connected edges, but it's not anything like cursive.  When I was in 3rd grade, I moved from a state that taught cursive in 4th grade to a state that taught cursive in 2nd grade.  I truly slipped through the cracks and never mastered cursive.  Bummer.

And one to grow on.  Although after leaving a part of my heart forever in Wisconsin after 5 really awesome years there, I won't be wearing the cheese head we own this weekend.    Any other time, but this year, the wound is too fresh.  I'm a little sad about how bitter I am towards the green and gold.

Nature Versus Nurture

Adoption really brings the nature versus nurture debate to the forefront of your life. People always comment on how adorable Little Bug is, which I can take no credit for. But when it comes to things like his personality, some of that has to be a result of how we are raising him (ahem, spoiled) as well as a result of his innate personality, which I can again take no credit for.

Before I became a mom, I had lots of plans for my son, how he would act, what he would like, etc. Of course, children do and like whatever they want, so I learned quickly that my plans for my child were going to be less me and way more him.

Take, for example, books.

I love to read. I read and read and read. I love to talk about books. I love to think about books. The discipline on my degree actually say "Literature," and let me tell you, I thought I was pulling one over on everyone by getting a degree in reading Shakespeare. I've made a career out of reading (although, sadly, not reading Shakespeare). I assumed that my son would be a voracious reader.

And he wasn't. In fact, for the first couple years of his life, books that didn't pop up and sing the Wonder Pets song were of little to no use to him. It broke my heart, but I persisted. Each night we "read" a couple books. He wasn't interested.

Then one night a few months ago, he sat still through a book. Then another, and another, and another. Since that night, we read four books a night and tons throughout the day. My kid loves them. He has favorites. He requests "Night Night, Train" and "Moon" daily. He delights when he finds "Pop Hop Hop" or "Bee Bim Bop." The kid loves his books, and he loves the time we spend together reading them.

And seriously, so do I.

Yesterday after his nap, Little Bug didn't come out of his room. A rare occurrence for him. When we checked on him, we found him amongst a huge pile of books, happily thumbing through them.

I'm beginning to think I might have a book worm after all.

So was it always in his nature to like books, or have we nurtured it enough to help him develop a love? Or is it both? Like most debates, I don't have an answer. But who really needs an answer when there's "Good Night, Moon" to read three more times?

Boo!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Last night my son was wired in a great way (as best as a child can be wired at bedtime). He was being silly and happy and seriously enjoying being alive. Normally I attempt to squash bedtime sillies to preserve our calm rainbows/unicorns/soft puppies bedtime routine, but last night I couldn't stand to shut him down. He was too happy, and it was infectious.

Seriously, sometimes you have to screw the sleep training ideas.

As I tried to fit Little Bug into his jammies, he stood up on his bed and started jumping fast and hard while holding my hands. (Again, normally something I don't allow, but our calm zone was already demolished at that point.) He would jump a few times while chanting something and then fall down in a heap of laughter, only to get back up and do it again. It took me a couple goes to realize what he was doing.


Ashes, ashes, we all fall doooooooooown.

My baby was singing. A song that he was pulling the words and tune from memory. Yes, the words were in his own special garble, but they were as fully formed as he could get and very intentional. The tune was spot on.

It was so developmentally appropriate that it made my heart nearly burst.

Little Bug has always loved music. Since the moment he was born, music has been his trigger of joy and peace. I love the fact that he is finally able to participate in the music, not just experience it.

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve is one of those days where the past, the present, and the future all seem to blend together. (Dickens seriously knew his stuff.) Every year I find myself reminiscing with such clarity of Christmas Eve's in my past.

The first year I got up the guts to peek out of my room before my parents gave the okay and saw the exciting outline of what was a Strawberry Shortcake Dream House (23 years ago tonight). The year "Santa" announced we were having another baby by leaving a fifth stocking out and my sister's furious reaction (16 years ago tonight). The night my dad booby trapped the stairs with a bucket of buttons that fell on my head, only to have me scream bloody murder and wake the whole house up (include above mentioned new baby) because I was convinced it was a bucket of nails (18 years ago tonight). The 20+ nights my sister and I called a truce on our hatred and came together for a "sleep over" and night spent sitting next to the Christmas tree. Christmas Eve has produced many of my favorite memories, and tonight, as I sit here alone by my Christmas tree, those memories decades old seem so close.

Of course, the Christmas Present is pretty amazing, too. I spent the evening surrounded by family in my home, with my decorations, and my traditions. I cheered my son on as he unwrapped a gift all by himself for the first time ever. As I laid next to him tonight while he feel asleep, I silently prayed a Christmas prayer of thanks for allowing my the privilege of having such a beautiful family.

And Christmas Future: As close as past memories feel to me tonight, the looming present feels equally as real. In just 365 days I'll be right here again, in this room, with these decorations adorning a tree. This moment will be one of those Christmas Past moments I look back on with fondness. Instead of one little boy slumbering away upstairs, there will be two. Seriously, how lucky am I? And the year after that and the year after that and the year after that. Train tables will give way to bikes and video games that will give way to iPods and computers. The one thing that won't change will be this moment, after they go to sleep, when it's just me and the tree and my grateful heart.

So, although I should be in bed preparing for a long day, I'm instead tucked away with my thoughts on my favorite night of the year.

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.

Dreams Come True

Tomorrow my little family is heading to the happiest place on earth. I'm ridiculously excited, not only because it's the type of place you are supposed to be excited about, but because this is the first time we are taking a trip just for us. No agenda, no people to visit, no event to attend.

Just sun and family and food and a bunch of strangers dressed as cartoons. Awesome.

Our life is pretty amazing, and I know that, but a slightly-less-than-perfect part of our life is the time we have to spent apart. To just be Appa, Mama, and Little Bug without phones or e-mail or therapists for almost a week makes me giddy.

Like, I might actually cry when we walk through the gates to that magical kingdom and I get to watch my husband and son experience it for the first time.

We have billed this trip as a gift to Little Bug, a congrats for all his hard work over the past 2 years in therapy, an early happy birthday, and a sorry we are getting you a baby brother trip. Every decision we have made has been with him as the main factor.

But as parents, I've found the best gifts you can give to yourself is watching a child delight in a gift.

Happy Trails

Appa and I love to travel. We're not crazy travelers, by any means, but between having most of our family and friends live on the other side of the country, having a fondness for teal blue water, and having children born in a country across the world, we've developed into a couple who isn't afraid to book a flight and GO somewhere, even just for a weekend.

When Little Bug came home, I wondered how that part of our life would change. Ironically, for all our traveling, we NEVER travel for major holidays. It seems like most families with kid almost exclusively plan travel around those times. We decided that as hard as it would be, we would not limit ourselves to Turkey-Time in Spudland. Both Grandmas probably hate this about us.

And we've done it. Little Bug has dipped his toes in both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. He's seen mountains and plains. He's been kissed by showgirls and winked at by Lady Liberty. We've continued to spend time with family and friends and enabled our child to develop a healthy love for those people...and for traveling.

I want our children to grow up with an appreciation that memories matter, family matters, friends matter. I want them to see the world, even and including their country, and to be blunt, I want to keep living my life and making my own memories and cultivating my own relationships.

Does it suck teaching them this lesson at such a young age? Heck yes. It's a bitter pill to swallow when you pay full price for things your half-sized human will barely use (hello, second airline seat) and traveling with said half-sized humans is less fun than it is stressful. But it's so worth it when you are finally in the moment.

Today we booked a trip to the happiest place on earth for a couple months from now. It's a trip that is solely for Little Bug, with absolutely zero agenda for Appa and I. It was a spur of the moment thing, but I'm so looking forward to hoofing if around and around and around and around just for my little baby's enjoyment. It will, barring any major life events like weddings or funerals, be our last plane ride before we board the pretty teal one that will take us across the world.

I'm really excited to give this to our son, even if he won't remember much of it.

With that being said, we've been traveling a lot lately. Too much, in my opinion. We already canceled one trip this month and just canceled one for this weekend. Honestly, I am relieved. We need a weekend of pajamas and home-cooked food and lounging. The only traveling we'll be doing is to the video store.

Traveling is good, but home is good, too.

Coming Out of the Closet

I . like . cosleeping .

I spend 3 nights a week without my husband, and the honest truth is my perfect little hot pretzel stick son is a fantastic spooner. Most of the time, I really enjoy having him share my bed with me. I absolutely cherish the time I get in the morning when he is still nuzzled up to me while I watch him sleep.

However, I've determined that, for our family and my son, it's not the healthiest choice, physically or emotionally. So, starting next Monday, after our last vacation for a while is finally complete, I'm going to be retraining all three of us away from cosleeping.

Appa is not happy about it, I'm a little bummed about it, and I can guarantee Little Bug won't be on board. But it is the right thing to do for us, and what is right isn't always what is easy.

I've started looking into sleep training books and methods and there are so many to choose from. I'm considering just blindly picking one and going with it. Seriously, I assume they all are just different methods to the same end, right?

I hate the fact that Little Bug is going to be sad and put up a good fight. I hate the fact that I'm going to be the enforcer because Appa is such a push over when it comes to this. I hate the fact that I'm going to need a lot more DDP to make it through the day. I hate the fact my little boy won't be spooning me for much longer and mumbling "choo choo" in my ear.

But I love the fact that my family is growing and changing and that this is in preparation for one son to grow up a little so our next son can assume his position as our baby.