Scene: Little Bug's bedroom as I was trying to get him into jammies while he was trying to apply stickers to his face.
Him: "Moooooooom, stooooooooP."
It was articulated perfectly with a pop of teenage chagrin and annoyance. In that moment there was no trace of anything but a boy telling his mama to back off. So brilliantly 4 going on 14 that it took my breath away.
Life is changing.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Adoptivus: A Year Later
A year ago today, Appa, Little Bug, Kim Emo, and myself got on that pretty teal plane to fly halfway across the world. As I thought about what I wanted to write today, I realized I have very few specific memories from the flight over. It was pretty uneventful, and that in and of itself is something I know I should be grateful for. I took less than five pictures the entire 14 hour flight, for Pete's sake. Anyone who knows me knows that means absolutely nothing noteworthy happened.
Instead, these are the precious memories that bubble to the surface as I look back a year later at our day spent in the sky.
*An hour before we left for the airport, I stood next to Appa in our front room, marveling at the calm. Outside Kim and Little Bug played in his red wagon and soaked up the bright cheery sunshine. Our small arsenal of luggage was carefully packed and standing in wait. Unlike the first time, things were just so peaceful in those last moments of normal. More than anything else, it is that calm and warm sense of peace and sunshine that stick with me from that day. I was so supremely grateful for that sunshine.
*It took until we got to the gate and were waiting to board that Appa and I both realized in horror that the travel clothing we had dressed Little Bug in were simply too small for him. The pants were up to his ankles and his Thomas shirt was barely covering his belly. If Appa noticed it, I knew it was bad. If you know how classy Korean people tend to dress (and how bundled they dress their babies), you can imagine how awesome we looked.
*When the plane took off, I caught my sister's eye. This was her first international travel, and I knew she was a totally pumped. I mouthed "here we go" and felt like my stomach was going to explode with happiness knowing that we were just hours (okay, a lot of hours) away from Seoul and my son.
*A middle-aged woman sitting near us offered Little Bug a loaf-like thing wrapped tightly in tinfoil less than an hour into the flight. We accepted gracefully and under her watchful eye, we started feeding Little Bug this thing we didn't recognize from a person we didn't know. I still have no idea what it was; it looked and tasted like a mixture of date bread, meat, and dried fruit wrapped in a tight sausage-like preparation. But he didn't die and we won some smiles and appreciative nods from more than one Korean grandma on that plane. Totally worth it.
*Little Bug spent a combined total of hours snapping and unsnapping his seat belt with total joy. Who needs iPads and toys when kids have ice cups and seat belts?
*I watched "The King's Speech" with Colin Firth. Anything with Colin Firth is worth noting.
Monday, March 5, 2012
The Pendulum Swings
Saturday: Little Bug wakes up and has a wonderful music class where he participates and controls himself. He's happy and having fun. I breath in a deep sigh of relief.
Saturday afternoon: Little Bug begins to fall apart, throwing things, crying hard, whining, and unable to listen and control himself. Appa and I exchange sad looks before trying hard to make him comfortable and give him activities to work off some energy. It doesn't work, and he goes to bed exhausted and sad. Actually, the whole family does.
Sunday morning: Little Bug wakes up very uncomfortable in his skin. Appa cuts his rare and much deserved b-ball session short to come home and support us. Little Bug is cycling through emotions fast and furiously and is really unhappy and unpredictable. I steal a moment with Appa and tear up as he hugs me because we hate seeing my boy so unhappy.
Sunday afternoon: We go outside to get some air and Little Bug gets on his tricycle, give it a couple good rocks, and then starts pedaling.
PEDALING.
Little Bug has never really pedaled before, or even shown any real interest. Then Sunday, in the midst of a very long stretch of bad days, he just decided that pedaling was the best way to ride his bike and made it happen. I happened to turn in time to catch the moment, and just like his first steps years ago, my heart stopped a bit before I started running towards him screaming praises and excitement. I will never, ever forget his face as I crouched low to his and started showering him in kisses. His cheeks were cold and red from the almost-snowing weather, his eyes were bright with excitement and joy, and his smile was one of his most authentic, joy-filled big smiles--the kind I don't realize are so rare until I see one. It was one of those moments where we both know he just broke through another milestone, another big skill that isn't just a stepping stone, but a full skill.
It was easily a moment I will never forget. I'm so proud of him.
But the pendulum swings in extremes in our world, and although it swung so high in that moment, the truth is it was coming from a low place and went back there fast making Sunday another rough day overall.
I share this for two reasons. First, we're deep in pendulum swings right now and writing it down simply makes me feel more in control and helps me remember for every bad weekend, there are more good weekends. But most important, I share it because in the midst of a terribly hard weekend, I want Little Bug to know how strong he is, even at age 4, to fight to swing the pendulum to something high. His fighting spirit is what has and will help him continue to rise above his limitations to reach his full potential.
Friday, February 3, 2012
11
Dear Little Bro,
Yesterday as you and I laid quietly in your warm bed as you were waking up from nap, we started counting. You can count to 10 in a million different ways (fast, slow, monster voice, scream, whisper, etc.), but 10 was your cap.
So I told you the next number after 10 was 11.
You rolled the number around on your tongue, tried it out in sing-song and loud variations, and then let it loose with a super fast 12345678910......11!
And just like that, you learned something new. Something you will never, ever forget. I find that fascinating. One thing I have learned over the past few years is to never take the miracle of learning for granted. So to watch it happen, something so memorable as a number, was neat for me. It's one of my favorite parts of being a mom, and your zest for learning is so exciting to experience.
Just wait until I let you in on the mind-blowing news about a certain number 12!
Yesterday as you and I laid quietly in your warm bed as you were waking up from nap, we started counting. You can count to 10 in a million different ways (fast, slow, monster voice, scream, whisper, etc.), but 10 was your cap.
So I told you the next number after 10 was 11.
You rolled the number around on your tongue, tried it out in sing-song and loud variations, and then let it loose with a super fast 12345678910......11!
And just like that, you learned something new. Something you will never, ever forget. I find that fascinating. One thing I have learned over the past few years is to never take the miracle of learning for granted. So to watch it happen, something so memorable as a number, was neat for me. It's one of my favorite parts of being a mom, and your zest for learning is so exciting to experience.
Just wait until I let you in on the mind-blowing news about a certain number 12!
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Home
For me, although I love where I currently live, home is Idaho.
It's Fiesta Ole and Walkers off Broadway and the Greenbelt and 17th Street and Skyline and Pancheri Road and the Grand Tetons and the Snake River and the Rocky Mountains and my family and my friends.
It's not where I was born, but it's where I grew up and became me. Living there has shaped who I am, how I see things, and how I react to things. It's shaped my hobbies, talents, and likes and dislikes (expect country music...no thank you).
Tomorrow I am going home with my two babies and my husband (who also calls it home). I am starting to feel this delicious curl of anticipation at my first glimpse of the mountains; my first breath of solid, clean mountain air; and my flood of memories waiting at each street corner. I know this place somewhere deep inside me, no matter the 12 years I've not called it "home."
It makes me wonder where my sons' home will be. Sentimentally, I would love for it to be Seoul, but the reality is there will be no memories lurking on the street corners for them when we return again, no senses reawakened. I suspect home will live in their hearts here, in our large Midwest city. And that's okay. Seoul can be their history, or maybe one day even their physical home. They can make new memories and it can grow in their hearts as it has grown in mine.
But just like home to me is eating a $0.99 soft bean burrito with no enchilada sauce with a side of ranch dressing from Fiesta Ole while staring up into the snow capped mountains instead of munching on a crisp apple while watching hydro-boats skim the tops of the Columbia River from my birthplace in Washington state, home to my boys might be a stuffed pizza and a poorly-played baseball game rather than kimchi and urban hiking. No matter where it is, going home is always a really special feeling.
Fiesta Ole.....yummmmmmm.
It's Fiesta Ole and Walkers off Broadway and the Greenbelt and 17th Street and Skyline and Pancheri Road and the Grand Tetons and the Snake River and the Rocky Mountains and my family and my friends.
It's not where I was born, but it's where I grew up and became me. Living there has shaped who I am, how I see things, and how I react to things. It's shaped my hobbies, talents, and likes and dislikes (expect country music...no thank you).
Tomorrow I am going home with my two babies and my husband (who also calls it home). I am starting to feel this delicious curl of anticipation at my first glimpse of the mountains; my first breath of solid, clean mountain air; and my flood of memories waiting at each street corner. I know this place somewhere deep inside me, no matter the 12 years I've not called it "home."
It makes me wonder where my sons' home will be. Sentimentally, I would love for it to be Seoul, but the reality is there will be no memories lurking on the street corners for them when we return again, no senses reawakened. I suspect home will live in their hearts here, in our large Midwest city. And that's okay. Seoul can be their history, or maybe one day even their physical home. They can make new memories and it can grow in their hearts as it has grown in mine.
But just like home to me is eating a $0.99 soft bean burrito with no enchilada sauce with a side of ranch dressing from Fiesta Ole while staring up into the snow capped mountains instead of munching on a crisp apple while watching hydro-boats skim the tops of the Columbia River from my birthplace in Washington state, home to my boys might be a stuffed pizza and a poorly-played baseball game rather than kimchi and urban hiking. No matter where it is, going home is always a really special feeling.
Fiesta Ole.....yummmmmmm.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
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 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.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Brook the Bird
But too soon for me, Little Bro started nodding off in his friend's wagon, and I knew it was time to go. Of course, as soon as we were on the course for the car he woke up and was absolutely fascinated by all the exotic seagulls flying around. Despite the looming threat of a seagull shower, the moment was one I relished. As the oldest, I have no frame of reference for the plight of a second child, but the reality is that now whenever #2 gets something, #1 does, too. In the interest of fairness, there isn't a lot of time or opportunity or reason to spoil just the second child.
But as MY second child sleepily delighted in watching the birds with me, I knew I was going to seize the moment and spoil him and him alone.
I took him to one of the zoo gift shops and let him pick out a stuffed animal. I steered him toward the birds, since that nice memory was fresh in my mind. He doesn't seem like a stuffed-animal-loving kid, but he did take immediately to a weird looking stuffed penguin (a bird we did not see at the zoo) with over sized, weird cracked out TROLL eyes.
Whatever. My baby was getting this weird doll.
And to my satisfaction, he held it the whole way to the car, playing with the wings and laughing at it. He clutched it during nap and while watching SuperWhy. I started to think that maybe this special treat was going to be something that would mean something to both of us.
Of course tonight he took one look at it, realized it had creepy Chucky eyes, and promptly freaked out until I hid it from him.
Oh well, it's the thought and memory that counts....and I have a feeling Brook the Big-Eyed Birdie is going to be popping up again and again as I try to force my darling second son to love this silly little doll.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
My Favorite Scene
There is a scene in the movie "Love Actually" where a young boy, triumphant from fulfilling a deep wish, runs with wild, physical abandon, joy radiating from his face.
Tonight, although not exactly the same style, my little bug had a moment of triumph.
After a day of cousins and carousel and grandmas and french fries, Appa and I decided to toss this whole packing and preparing business out the window and take our son to the park to round out a pretty delightful day. Little Bug ran and jumped (an emerging skill we find adorable) and screamed with delight.
Then Hannah came along.
Miss Hannah seemed interested in Little Bug right away, and he took to her, too. The two of them followed each other around, taking turns mimicking the other. Even though the clock ticked shockingly close to bedtime, Appa and I just stood on the playground with stupid grins on our faces.....because Little Bug has never engaged a child like this on a playground before, even one he knew. He is still trying to find his confidence and place in the social world of toddlers, and tonight was his coming out party. He worked that playground like a pro, and Hannah responded with friendly companionship.
Little Bug was so incandescently happy, but we finally had to drag him away. I was sure he would throw a fit or cry and pout.
But instead he yelled what sounded like victory whoops and he walked proudly ahead of Appa and I, swinging his arms out in a huge motion pretty unusual for him. He was on top of the world in that moment, and I know it was the high of Hannah's engagement.
If only life had a soundtrack, I think that moment would have warranted a crescendo.
Tonight, although not exactly the same style, my little bug had a moment of triumph.
After a day of cousins and carousel and grandmas and french fries, Appa and I decided to toss this whole packing and preparing business out the window and take our son to the park to round out a pretty delightful day. Little Bug ran and jumped (an emerging skill we find adorable) and screamed with delight.
Then Hannah came along.
Miss Hannah seemed interested in Little Bug right away, and he took to her, too. The two of them followed each other around, taking turns mimicking the other. Even though the clock ticked shockingly close to bedtime, Appa and I just stood on the playground with stupid grins on our faces.....because Little Bug has never engaged a child like this on a playground before, even one he knew. He is still trying to find his confidence and place in the social world of toddlers, and tonight was his coming out party. He worked that playground like a pro, and Hannah responded with friendly companionship.
Little Bug was so incandescently happy, but we finally had to drag him away. I was sure he would throw a fit or cry and pout.
But instead he yelled what sounded like victory whoops and he walked proudly ahead of Appa and I, swinging his arms out in a huge motion pretty unusual for him. He was on top of the world in that moment, and I know it was the high of Hannah's engagement.
If only life had a soundtrack, I think that moment would have warranted a crescendo.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Written on March 29, 2011
One year ago today my son entered my life. Even though it would be a full month until all the other factors fell into place to make it so, one year ago today, before I had even seen his file which would come the following day, I knew.
I sat down at the computer 1 year ago today and wrote him a letter. A letter than I had no business writing to this child, but that I absolutely knew would one day be read by him.
There are few things in life that I have felt as uncharacteristically, blindly faithful about as I did that day 1 year ago. File be damned, finances be damned, business associations be damned. I just knew that the child behind that little square of a picture was the child that Appa and I would both ultimately agree was going to be our son. For someone who likes to err on the side of emotional caution and pessimism, I was full of wild abandon when it came to loving this child.
And now, 1 year later, a little white dresser in my home is filled with clothes he will wear in just over a week. My calendar has appointments that he and I will go to together. My home is about to become his home, my traditions his traditions, my family his family.....
My heart simply his.
In the last 365 days, never once have I wavered from that wild abandon. I've felt such peace. Truly, such peace.
All because 1 year ago Appa and I followed an insane urge to jump outside the plan, our comfort zone, our expectations.
Thank God for today.
I sat down at the computer 1 year ago today and wrote him a letter. A letter than I had no business writing to this child, but that I absolutely knew would one day be read by him.
There are few things in life that I have felt as uncharacteristically, blindly faithful about as I did that day 1 year ago. File be damned, finances be damned, business associations be damned. I just knew that the child behind that little square of a picture was the child that Appa and I would both ultimately agree was going to be our son. For someone who likes to err on the side of emotional caution and pessimism, I was full of wild abandon when it came to loving this child.
And now, 1 year later, a little white dresser in my home is filled with clothes he will wear in just over a week. My calendar has appointments that he and I will go to together. My home is about to become his home, my traditions his traditions, my family his family.....
My heart simply his.
In the last 365 days, never once have I wavered from that wild abandon. I've felt such peace. Truly, such peace.
All because 1 year ago Appa and I followed an insane urge to jump outside the plan, our comfort zone, our expectations.
Thank God for today.
Friday, December 24, 2010
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.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
The Cool Kid
Little Bug has taken to choosing an item each morning to bring to school to show his teacher. Usually it's a raggie or his ferret ball, but today it was his train book, a prized possession of his. He proudly walked it the entire way into school, clutching the over sized book with both his hands (not an easy feat even now for my little guy), and showed it to his teacher in the hall, who ohhhed and awwed enough to make Little Bug drunk on joy to be sharing and praised.
We're not supposed to bring toys from home into school because kids fight over them, but I allowed Little Bug to bring the book into his classroom to show his friends. Little Bug is fiercely protective over this book, but he held it out in front of him like something out of the Lion King, proudly showing the book to all his friends. The clustered around him (including the boys who like to exclude Little Bug), and Little Bug sat the book on the table so everyone could see.
God, I wish I had a camera in that moment.
It's a rare sight for me to see Little Bug truly, truly, truly interacting with a larger group of kids in such a positive way for an extended period of time (and I think it happens more often than I think, I just don't get to see it), but there he was, with friends clustered tight around him on other side as he turned the pages of this train book. They all exclaimed over the pictures, pointing and laughing. Little Bug looked up at me and met my eye for just a moment, with the most genuine, happy smile on his face.
For that one moment, he was the.coolest.kid. in that room.
We're not supposed to bring toys from home into school because kids fight over them, but I allowed Little Bug to bring the book into his classroom to show his friends. Little Bug is fiercely protective over this book, but he held it out in front of him like something out of the Lion King, proudly showing the book to all his friends. The clustered around him (including the boys who like to exclude Little Bug), and Little Bug sat the book on the table so everyone could see.
God, I wish I had a camera in that moment.
It's a rare sight for me to see Little Bug truly, truly, truly interacting with a larger group of kids in such a positive way for an extended period of time (and I think it happens more often than I think, I just don't get to see it), but there he was, with friends clustered tight around him on other side as he turned the pages of this train book. They all exclaimed over the pictures, pointing and laughing. Little Bug looked up at me and met my eye for just a moment, with the most genuine, happy smile on his face.
For that one moment, he was the.coolest.kid. in that room.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Taking my Hand
Tonight as Little Bug and I drove home from an uneventful diaper buying outing and fancy macaroni and cheese dinner, my little boy started to sing a common 3-word refrain from a song we were listening to.
The Midwest winter is rapidly approaching and the car was pitch black, so I reached my hand back to touch his knee in a sign of praise. Usually when I reach my hand back while driving he ignores it or bats it away.
Tonight he took his little hand and wrapped it tightly around my finger and held on. I caressed his hand with my other fingers and together we sang over and over. Every time I moved my hand he called "mama, mama" until I returned it to the proper place and he could grab hold again.
Although I couldn't see his face in the dark, I could see my reflection in the rear view mirror and saw the tears pooling in my eyes.
It's hard to explain how special this was. Little Bug isn't a hand holder....especially when sitting or otherwise engaged. Part of it probably has to do with his hypotonia and weakness in his hands that had created a habit of not gripping something tightly for long periods of time. Part of it is probably just his personality.
For him to want to hold my hand tonight the whole way home, to seek out my touch for no reason other than simply that it was my touch, leaves me feeling like another one of the motherhood pieces is falling into place.
The Midwest winter is rapidly approaching and the car was pitch black, so I reached my hand back to touch his knee in a sign of praise. Usually when I reach my hand back while driving he ignores it or bats it away.
Tonight he took his little hand and wrapped it tightly around my finger and held on. I caressed his hand with my other fingers and together we sang over and over. Every time I moved my hand he called "mama, mama" until I returned it to the proper place and he could grab hold again.
Although I couldn't see his face in the dark, I could see my reflection in the rear view mirror and saw the tears pooling in my eyes.
It's hard to explain how special this was. Little Bug isn't a hand holder....especially when sitting or otherwise engaged. Part of it probably has to do with his hypotonia and weakness in his hands that had created a habit of not gripping something tightly for long periods of time. Part of it is probably just his personality.
For him to want to hold my hand tonight the whole way home, to seek out my touch for no reason other than simply that it was my touch, leaves me feeling like another one of the motherhood pieces is falling into place.
Friday, November 5, 2010
A Note to My Sons from Their No-Longer-a-Teenager-Mama
My friend Tiffany wrote a blog post a while back about what she wished she would have done differently in high school. She was sharing her list with her high school students and her own sons. She challenged others to do the same, and although I never do stuff like that on this blournal, this topic is one that I would like to preserve for my kids. Sitting down to think about it was pretty heavy, and if my sons can avoid even one of my "mistakes," I will consider it a victory.
What I wish I would have done differently in high school........
I wish I had been kinder to my younger sister. She was dealing with her own insecurities, and I just took mine out on her....for about 16 hellish years. People always told us that we would be close friends when we were adults and I absolutely thought they were full of crap....they were not.
I wish I would have volunteered in the community more.
I wish I would have been more honest with my parents.
I wish I would have said yes when J.J. asked me to senior homecoming (even though I declined nicely). Appa was up at college and wouldn't have minded if I went with this person as friends, and I know it took so much bravery for J.J. to ask me to that dance. He could never catch a break socially, and I so regret being one more instance of that...simply because I was too caught up in myself to be on his arm for a couple hours. Instead I sat at home and acted like an "I'm dating a college boy martyr" while J.J. sat at home because I said no.
I wish I could have found a way to compromise with my parents a bit more on the things that were really important to them. It wouldn't have hurt me, but it would have saved them a lot of hurt.
I wish I would have learned the value of money and how to use what you do (and don't) have responsibly.
I wish I would have backed up and kept the things I wrote, school papers, creative writing, etc. The papers would have come in handy in college and the creative writings would have been a treasure now.
I wish I would have learned to cook as my mother cooked for us each night.
I wish I would have spent more time getting to know my brothers.
I wish I hadn't thrown away the little gold unicorn earrings my dad gave me for my 8th birthday in honor of being able to get my ears pierced. As a teenager I thought the little gold earrings were silly, childlike things I would never wear again. As an adult I mourn the loss of this special gift my daddy had picked out just for his "little lady."
I wish I would have spent a little more time with my friends and a little less time with my boyfriend....even if I thought he was (and still is) the love of my life.
I wish I would have learned how to apply makeup.
I wish I would have cultivated a love for physical activity or learned a sport.
I wish I would have honored my commitments to church more, or at least been able to be brave enough to bow out when I could not longer honor those commitments.
I wish I would have learned the value of chores or the self-discipline of cleaning.
I wish I would have taken better care of the pictures I took, instead of strewing them about to be lost to the four corners of the earth.
I wish we went to more family counseling sessions instead of me canceling them as soon as I got what I wanted out of them.
I wish I had been more aware of how my actions were impacting my little siblings, how my teenage dramatics were scaring them and making them feel worried and sad about the state of their own family.
I wish I never would have dyed my whole head of hair using the spray on highlighter.
And, just for kicks, there are a couple things I am glad that I did in high school.....
I am glad that I was responsible and resourceful enough to get the items and information I needed to make safe choices in my life...despite not being able to share that with my parents.
I am glad that I chased that lone Sunday trick-or-treater down the street and gave him candy when everyone else in our neighborhood (including us) had their lights off in protest of a Sunday holiday, despite my parents' protests. (And in turn made an impression on them that my mother still brings up around Halloween each year.)
I'm glad I worked during the summer and after school....especially that I worked in fast food.
I'm glad I only applied to the colleges of my choice.
I'm glad that my running away consisted of simply running to Ali(ce)'s house and having her mom call my mom to let them know I was going to hang there for the night.
I'm glad I fought for Appa.
I'm glad I didn't say "I love you" until I meant it.
I'm glad that I never touched a cigarette, alcohol, or drugs.
I'm glad that I was open to change.....all the best things about my life now are things I never could have anticipated in high school.
What I wish I would have done differently in high school........
I wish I had been kinder to my younger sister. She was dealing with her own insecurities, and I just took mine out on her....for about 16 hellish years. People always told us that we would be close friends when we were adults and I absolutely thought they were full of crap....they were not.
I wish I would have volunteered in the community more.
I wish I would have been more honest with my parents.
I wish I would have said yes when J.J. asked me to senior homecoming (even though I declined nicely). Appa was up at college and wouldn't have minded if I went with this person as friends, and I know it took so much bravery for J.J. to ask me to that dance. He could never catch a break socially, and I so regret being one more instance of that...simply because I was too caught up in myself to be on his arm for a couple hours. Instead I sat at home and acted like an "I'm dating a college boy martyr" while J.J. sat at home because I said no.
I wish I could have found a way to compromise with my parents a bit more on the things that were really important to them. It wouldn't have hurt me, but it would have saved them a lot of hurt.
I wish I would have learned the value of money and how to use what you do (and don't) have responsibly.
I wish I would have backed up and kept the things I wrote, school papers, creative writing, etc. The papers would have come in handy in college and the creative writings would have been a treasure now.
I wish I would have learned to cook as my mother cooked for us each night.
I wish I would have spent more time getting to know my brothers.
I wish I hadn't thrown away the little gold unicorn earrings my dad gave me for my 8th birthday in honor of being able to get my ears pierced. As a teenager I thought the little gold earrings were silly, childlike things I would never wear again. As an adult I mourn the loss of this special gift my daddy had picked out just for his "little lady."
I wish I would have spent a little more time with my friends and a little less time with my boyfriend....even if I thought he was (and still is) the love of my life.
I wish I would have learned how to apply makeup.
I wish I would have cultivated a love for physical activity or learned a sport.
I wish I would have honored my commitments to church more, or at least been able to be brave enough to bow out when I could not longer honor those commitments.
I wish I would have learned the value of chores or the self-discipline of cleaning.
I wish I would have taken better care of the pictures I took, instead of strewing them about to be lost to the four corners of the earth.
I wish we went to more family counseling sessions instead of me canceling them as soon as I got what I wanted out of them.
I wish I had been more aware of how my actions were impacting my little siblings, how my teenage dramatics were scaring them and making them feel worried and sad about the state of their own family.
I wish I never would have dyed my whole head of hair using the spray on highlighter.
And, just for kicks, there are a couple things I am glad that I did in high school.....
I am glad that I was responsible and resourceful enough to get the items and information I needed to make safe choices in my life...despite not being able to share that with my parents.
I am glad that I chased that lone Sunday trick-or-treater down the street and gave him candy when everyone else in our neighborhood (including us) had their lights off in protest of a Sunday holiday, despite my parents' protests. (And in turn made an impression on them that my mother still brings up around Halloween each year.)
I'm glad I worked during the summer and after school....especially that I worked in fast food.
I'm glad I only applied to the colleges of my choice.
I'm glad that my running away consisted of simply running to Ali(ce)'s house and having her mom call my mom to let them know I was going to hang there for the night.
I'm glad I fought for Appa.
I'm glad I didn't say "I love you" until I meant it.
I'm glad that I never touched a cigarette, alcohol, or drugs.
I'm glad that I was open to change.....all the best things about my life now are things I never could have anticipated in high school.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Two Moments Worth Remembering
Two moments that melted my heart yesterday:
Running into Sasha in the hallway and watching Sasha and Little Bug smile and wordlessly link hands to walk outside. Watching them stare at each other with little smiles before waving goodbye. Hearing Little Bug talk about Sasha for the rest of the night. Knowing that Sasha might be gone from Little Bug's daily life, but his impact on my son's spirit is not.
and
Hearing my son calmly murmur "mama" in his sleep over and over again.
Running into Sasha in the hallway and watching Sasha and Little Bug smile and wordlessly link hands to walk outside. Watching them stare at each other with little smiles before waving goodbye. Hearing Little Bug talk about Sasha for the rest of the night. Knowing that Sasha might be gone from Little Bug's daily life, but his impact on my son's spirit is not.
and
Hearing my son calmly murmur "mama" in his sleep over and over again.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Good Night, Bee Bim Bop
After showing signs of being the only child on the face on the planet who doesn't love Good Night, Moon, Little Bug has finally discovered and fallen in love with the 60-year-old classic.
I'll admit, the book has grown on me, too.
Our favorite part of the book is the bowl full of mush...or as Little Bug calls it, "bee bim bop." Each time we get to a page with the bowl full of mush on it, he points to it and says "bye bye, bee bim bop." Sometimes he kisses the picture. Sometimes he makes pretend eating sounds. But it is always, ALWAYS "bee bim bop."
I hope he never learns to read the word "mush" and grows up reading it as "bee bim bop" to his children.
I'll admit, the book has grown on me, too.
Our favorite part of the book is the bowl full of mush...or as Little Bug calls it, "bee bim bop." Each time we get to a page with the bowl full of mush on it, he points to it and says "bye bye, bee bim bop." Sometimes he kisses the picture. Sometimes he makes pretend eating sounds. But it is always, ALWAYS "bee bim bop."
I hope he never learns to read the word "mush" and grows up reading it as "bee bim bop" to his children.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Adoptivus: The Prayer
My son was honored to have the founder of his Korean agency and one of the most amazing souls ever to grace this planet privately pray over him before he joined our family and left the only family and culture he had ever known."Precious lives, our angels, we send away these lives to foreign countries, with scarred memories of their homeland.
Please forgive our sins and allow Korea to be a better country, so that we will be adopting children from other countries, instead of us always sending ours away.
We send them for care. So please protect these lives and help them lead a happy life in their new homes. Always provide them with grace and intelligence, lead them to live by the rules of Jesus Christ, to have luck, to help benefit others, and to return the glory to our Lord.
It is our sincere wish that these lives will not forget their home country and the love of the people who took care of them.
Father, please remember the foster families who worked hard whether it is favorable or unfavorable conditions to protect these lives, and give them blessings for the benefits they provided with. By your blessings, these adoptive families will be full of love and be under your protection.
Now the children are leaving: Please make their way as easy as possible, lead them to the most pleasant life.
In the name of Jesus Christ,
Amen. "
I wonder if Dr. Kim knows just how much his own humble life has changed the course of so many others' lives forever.
Like mine.
감사함니다, Dr. Kim, for loving my son.
Adoptivus: Little Bug
Before we met Little Bug, we used to refer to him as a monkey (because all children must have an animal moniker, of course). Two years ago today, on the most intense day of my life that is too sacred and private to blog about in any meaningful way, I finally got the chance to begin to get to know my son.
Two things we immediately apparent as we began to parent this small child.
1. He was not going to be climbing about "monkey-style" anytime soon.
2. The kid was a serious cuddler.
During the 30 minute drive from our agency to our hotel, Little Bug fell asleep on me after looking around confused for a while. He nestled in and was so warm and darling. His foster mother had told us he liked close contact, and that was clearly obvious. As Appa and I were marveling over his sleeping form, I mused that he was a "little cuddle bug."
Besides a very sad 20 minute freak out, Little Bug earned that reputation throughout our first night together, allowing us (or more like allowing Baby-Hog Appa) constant cuddling opportunities. It was a night that went better and more joyful that we ever could have imagined (although the nights would soon turn more grim).
Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean the word "cuddle" was dropped, and by the time we hit American soil he was just a little bug. Over the next few weeks that turned into a nickname. Now, not a day goes by that our son isn't called "Little Bug" or "Bugs" or "Buggy" to his face.
And that is how, in a hotel room in Seoul on the day our son became our son, he also became Little Bug.
Two things we immediately apparent as we began to parent this small child.
1. He was not going to be climbing about "monkey-style" anytime soon.
2. The kid was a serious cuddler.
During the 30 minute drive from our agency to our hotel, Little Bug fell asleep on me after looking around confused for a while. He nestled in and was so warm and darling. His foster mother had told us he liked close contact, and that was clearly obvious. As Appa and I were marveling over his sleeping form, I mused that he was a "little cuddle bug."
Besides a very sad 20 minute freak out, Little Bug earned that reputation throughout our first night together, allowing us (or more like allowing Baby-Hog Appa) constant cuddling opportunities. It was a night that went better and more joyful that we ever could have imagined (although the nights would soon turn more grim).
Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean the word "cuddle" was dropped, and by the time we hit American soil he was just a little bug. Over the next few weeks that turned into a nickname. Now, not a day goes by that our son isn't called "Little Bug" or "Bugs" or "Buggy" to his face.
And that is how, in a hotel room in Seoul on the day our son became our son, he also became Little Bug.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Adoptivus: The Hills
2 years ago today we set out on a mini adventure (complete with hijinks) to the city of Suwon, an hour or two outside Seoul. I've written a lot about our escapades on the bus ride and the history and freedom we enjoyed in the fortress. I've written about how we got back to Seoul courtesy of my handy flash cards.
But I've not written about the in between.
Once we got out of Seoul and before we started panicking about how we would get off the bus, Appa and I sat in total silence and watched the scenery change outside the window. It went from busy, trendy Seoul to very industrial areas. For some reason, this is what I expected the outside of Seoul to look like.
Eventually the landscape turned greener, softer, prettier. We passed through what seemed like valleys filled with meadows and streams. We passed a bright blue lake right off the side of the road, and I remember having the intense urge to go camping there. Surrounding us were what my Midwest head called "mountains" and my Western heart called "hills." Either way, they were covered in trees and moss. They were absolutely lovely and calming and natural and wild.
As I visualize it in my head now, everything has this hazy, soft blur to it, like a picture over treated. It was such a departure from everything else we saw on our trip, and coming after the day when we met Little Bug, my heart and head were in a happy place.
Seoul is amazingly advanced and sexy, and Suwon is a historical wonder, but the wild in between is worth remembering, too.
But I've not written about the in between.
Once we got out of Seoul and before we started panicking about how we would get off the bus, Appa and I sat in total silence and watched the scenery change outside the window. It went from busy, trendy Seoul to very industrial areas. For some reason, this is what I expected the outside of Seoul to look like.
Eventually the landscape turned greener, softer, prettier. We passed through what seemed like valleys filled with meadows and streams. We passed a bright blue lake right off the side of the road, and I remember having the intense urge to go camping there. Surrounding us were what my Midwest head called "mountains" and my Western heart called "hills." Either way, they were covered in trees and moss. They were absolutely lovely and calming and natural and wild.
As I visualize it in my head now, everything has this hazy, soft blur to it, like a picture over treated. It was such a departure from everything else we saw on our trip, and coming after the day when we met Little Bug, my heart and head were in a happy place.
Seoul is amazingly advanced and sexy, and Suwon is a historical wonder, but the wild in between is worth remembering, too.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Adoptivus: The Smile
September 16, 2008. The day we met our son. I could not pick which memory to preserve, so I chose three.
Appa is a pretty reserved man, and the honest truth is that he doesn't love kids, at least other people's kids. I knew he would love our son, but there was a part of me that worried that he would be an unintentionally distant parent.
Somehow in the midst of loving on my baby for the first time, I knew that I needed to offer Appa a chance to hold his son. When I asked him if he wanted a turn, the sureness and excitement in his voice caught me off guard.
When I handed him our son, Appa flashed the most brilliant, authentic smile I have ever (and I mean that sincerely) seen on his face. I knew, without a doubt, that I was witnessing him fall head-over-heels in love with Little Bug. His eyes glazed over and it seemed he would now forever be at this child's whim (and he is).
That made me fall in love with Appa on a whole new level. To watch him claim, instantaneously, this child as his own and show him such tender and true love was one of the most moving moments of my entire trip and a memory I will always hold very dear in my heart.
Appa is a pretty reserved man, and the honest truth is that he doesn't love kids, at least other people's kids. I knew he would love our son, but there was a part of me that worried that he would be an unintentionally distant parent.
Somehow in the midst of loving on my baby for the first time, I knew that I needed to offer Appa a chance to hold his son. When I asked him if he wanted a turn, the sureness and excitement in his voice caught me off guard.
When I handed him our son, Appa flashed the most brilliant, authentic smile I have ever (and I mean that sincerely) seen on his face. I knew, without a doubt, that I was witnessing him fall head-over-heels in love with Little Bug. His eyes glazed over and it seemed he would now forever be at this child's whim (and he is).
That made me fall in love with Appa on a whole new level. To watch him claim, instantaneously, this child as his own and show him such tender and true love was one of the most moving moments of my entire trip and a memory I will always hold very dear in my heart.
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