Two Secrets

Little Bug's medication has messed with his sleep, and although we are no longer a closet co-sleeping family, most nights lately I have ended up in his bed at some point in the night.  He isn't a cuddler in the traditional sense, but he always has to be touching me with his feet.  Sometimes it is just his tiny toes against my thighs, and sometimes he burrows both his feet as far in between my legs as he can.

Secret #1: I will sometimes move slightly away from his touch just to have the lovely heart-melty feeling when his feet immediately follow me for contact again.

Secret #2: I adore the nights when I get to cuddle with my sleepy baby boy.  Screw the sleep training.

Thanksgiving

Four years ago it was Thanksgiving Day.

And I was thankful.

I was thankful that my sister's first son was born, a thanksgiving baby whose traumatic but triumphant entrance into this world left us all with much to be thankful for.

I was thankful for our first home, which we had closed on just the day before.  A home whose bare walls whispered promises of the most important moments of my life I knew it would usher in.

I was thankful for family, health, love, and friendship.

I was so very thankful.

But what I didn't know, as I stood in the dark basement, phone in hand after just sharing in the raw and beautiful first moments of my sister's motherhood glory, overcome with tears of thankfulness at the fullness and beauty of life, was that there was so much more for me to be thankful for.

Like the little baby, just a few hours old, also born on my Thanksgiving just a world away, who would be one of the brightest lights of my life.

I didn't know it yet, but I was thankful for the young woman who was selfless enough to put her baby ahead of herself for 9 long months.  I was thankful for the foster family who would shortly take that baby into their home and raise him to know love and comfort and family.  I was thankful for the agency who would provide for that baby until offering us the biggest honor of our lives....to be his parents.

But most of all, I was thankful for that boy.  That tiny, soft bundle of life whose spirit could not be contained by body or mind. He's left a mark on everyone he meets. He's made the world a better place in his 4 short years on this earth, but in my world, in my life, he's rocked it to the core.  He is, quite simply, perfection, vintage 2007.  And I get the honor of being a part of that, of loving him as only a mama can.

So although his birthday doesn't always fall on Thanksgiving Day, in my heart, it will always be a day of true thanksgiving.

So very blessed. So very thankful.

I love you, Little Bug.  Happy birthday.

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.

Forgiveness

There is no greater lesson than the forgiveness of your children.

Today was not a great mommy day for me.  All three of us woke up in bad moods, but I didn't do my duty to rise above the occasion and was short, distant, and even a bit loud.  Of course, I tried to salvage the day by spending almost all of it outside, taking a long bike ride to reduce stress, and even napping, but the evening ended with Mommy still not being her best.  As we read books in our jammies, I felt so horrible for being such a crummy mom to them today, and I imagined them both laying sadly in bed being angry with me after I turned out the lights and left their rooms.

But none of it mattered to them in the end.  They showered my scowling face with cuddles and kisses and murmurs of "i loube ooo"s.  They nestled their heads into my chest and shoulder and relaxed in my embrace.  They forgave me for today and let me still just be the mommy who loves them more than anything else, who makes them feel safe, and who is the one whose kisses are needed to fall asleep.

Surely I can find it in myself to forgive them just as quickly for things like willful disobedience and epic tantrums.  Their example of forgiveness is inspiring.

An Apology to My Little Bug

It's been a lonely couple of weeks for me.

Sometimes being a mom of a kid with special needs, especially behavioral special needs, just plain sucks.  It's stressful, emotionally draining, depressing, and scary, which leads some (me) into periods of isolation as I try to swing our family pendulum back into sync with some serious sleep and diet modifications and a super low-key environment.  Even as I took the boys on a 5-day vacation last week, I felt so off, a mirror to Little Bug's off mood (that was likely a bit of a cycle between the two of us by the end).

And that isolation extended to my writing, which I deliberately avoided, simply because the things I wanted to say were not things I actually wanted to say.

In fact, I just had about seven additional paragraphs to this post detailing my last couple weeks that I just deleted.  Because it wasn't what I wanted to say.

Instead, I want to write about how amazing my Little Bug is and how humbled I am tonight to be his mother.

Little Bug came to us as a sweet, beautiful 10-month-old infant.  He's always been so far behind in development that Appa and I just grew accustomed to parenting him at his delayed age.  He was our first child, and our parenting experience has been entirely built upon ignoring all conventional parenting methods and milestones. What we have given as compassion, acceptance, and avocation have in some instances been nothing more than enabling or selfishness.

That has now been put into blessed clarity for us.

Little Bug is a couple months away from turning 4.  Yet, he has never been formally sleep trained and has been cosleeping in a most unhealthy way since his first birthday.  Why have we never bitten the bullet and kicked this habit?  Oh, that would be because he couldn't be walk, then he couldn't stay in his big boy bed, then he couldn't fall asleep without us, then he needed his sleep and it was easier to put him to sleep in our bed, then we would be going on vacation, then he was getting a new room, then he got a new brother, then then then then then.

All excuses, every one of them.  The real reasons were that Appa and I loved having him cuddle in our bed with us and that we simply didn't have enough faith in him to be able to go to sleep on his own and cognitively follow the rules.

In the last four days, he's almost completely sleep trained.  We still have tears, but they are short.  And most importantly, he understands the expectations and accepts them.  Appa and I are ashamed to think of the YEARS of sleep deprivation we have imposed on our tough son simply because we underestimated him. 

And we started potty training him today, too.  Again, I didn't think this would work, at all.  If anything, I thought Little Bro would potty train and help eventually with Little Bug's training.  After only 4 hours, my son who has never peed on the potty in any intentional way was telling us, over and over during dinnertime, no less, that he needed to go potty.  He kept his big boy pants dry for hours as he motored back and forth to put his business where it needed to be.  (And he started taking the stairs without holding any railings.....another first for this super kid.)

In 3 days, I actually think he'll be potty trained.  Officially.  And it shocks me, to be honest.  Both Appa and I are pretty incredulous.

And we're both a bit humbled and ashamed to have underestimated our son in such huge ways.  In every challenge we've thrown his way, he's breezed through it.  Not even really struggled, but just breezed through it.  He's shown us time and time again that he's up for the challenge.

We just haven't been challenging him like we thought we were.

So although there are still a lot of challenges facing Little Bug that can't be fixed with a modified sleep training program or a 3-day miracle potty training program, there are a lot of little life lessons that Little Bug IS probably ready for.  And that is going to force us to change how we parent him a bit, which includes me cutting out some of our isolation therapy. Which is probably going to make us all happier.

I know every mother thinks this of their child, but I just really feel deeply that there is something special about Little Bug and what his future holds.  Of course I think Little Bro is very special, too, but I feel strongly that Little Bug was given his gifts of a fighting spirit, charming disposition, and joy of life to turn his challenges into something really amazing.  He's going to inspire people in some way, some day; I know it.  I know it.   And someday, when he reads this note from his mother in the midst of all my random musings, I hope he knows that I, more than anyone else in this world, have been blessed beyond measure by him simply being who he is.

8B, 3M, and Tonight

8 years ago tonight I was shaking my booty to "Baby Got Back" with my groom at our beautiful wedding, surrounded by the people we love best.  It is the 3rd best night of my life.

3 months ago tonight I was sitting in a hotel room in Korea, watching my new son shake his booty to Korean music I couldn't understand, marveling at the fact that the three people I love most in the world were all finally together with me.  It is tied for the best night of my life.

Tonight I am sitting in my oldest son's room after missing him terribly for the last week while he was in Hawaii with his Daddy.  In the other room I can hear my younger son belting out a mash-up of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "Happy Birthday" to my husband of 8 years, and because I am getting to know this little impish big star so well, I know he's got a couple more encores in him before the curtain is going to come down.

And although we weren't able to do our traditional fancy Jamaican dinner for our anniversary this year, I feel such a pleasure and triumph on this anniversary and don't consider it a letdown.  Life is just really sweet right now, and I am so happy to have three amazing people to call my own.

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 Year of Love

Every year I've taken great care when picking out a wall calendar for my work space.  For some reason, I feel like the type of calendar a person displays and chooses to look at every day says a lot about them.  For the past few years, my calendars have always been beautiful landscapes of Idaho, my childhood home state.  The pictures of a place so different from my current one, but so familiar and comforting and beautiful, have made me happy for many, many, many months.

This year I didn't get an Idaho calendar.  I wasn't sure what I was waiting for, but I spent the entire month of January calendar-less.  And then, on Valentine's Day, I found my new focus for the year, the calendar I will proudly display for the next 10 months.

It is crumpled, water-stained, crudely cut and glued....and makes me smile every morning.

Dear Little Bug

This morning, right before you stubbed your toe and wanted me to kiss it better, you took my breath away with how grown up you have become. Each time you would open the bathroom door and yell "HI" or "BYE" or "BOOOOO!" I marveled at how your face has thinned out and your eyes seem so much more mature as you raise one eyebrow....waiting for my response. In that moment you seemed every bit the 3-year-old you are and so far away from the little baby I used to cuddle in my arms for hours at a time. It was exciting and sad, all at once.

Then you stubbed your toe. I don't want to say "I told you so," but there is a reason your mama doesn't want you slamming doors....and it's not just because of the pictures hanging on the wall.

Although your toe was fine, your face screwed up into sadness and injustice and you insisted on sitting on my lap. There we were, sitting on the closed toilet while you moaned and cuddled into me and I kissed your tiny big toe over and over.

And I realized that no matter how angular your face gets or how high those expressive eyes go, somewhere in there will always be my cuddle bug baby.

And I love you so much I can't stand not to write about it sometimes.

Love, Mama

Love is

Love is doing something you hate for hours and hours and hours to bring joy to your 3 year old's face.

Love is also proving your husband wrong.

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.

1,000 Ways to Love You

Little Bro,

Today we received close to 1,000 pictures and video of you. Pictures from when you were just 8 weeks old to pictures of you crawling and walking and now running.

Even though I am blessed to have many of these same pictures of your older brother, seeing your pictures now, before I have met you, has allowed me to feel like I know you in some way. I know what you look like smiling and sleeping and snotty and drooly and angry and tired and bored and amused and curious. I know how sure of your feet you are now, and how tentative you used to be. I know what your first baby smile looked like and how your voice sounded just as you were finding it. I know what you chose on your Tol, and I know how you only chose your item after a melt down, cuddles from Omma and Appa, and a bottle break.

I'll never be the same.

This wait is awful, and I think it was/is bound to get worse, but being able to share this history with you...having more pictures than day left waiting....it makes it so much more bearable, makes you so much more real. It makes the wait more unreal than you.

I feel so guilty that I got this blessing and others have not. I can't wrap my mind around how randomly lucky I am.

Seeing these pictures today also made me very sad. Not that I was missing these moments with you, but that these beautiful moments are temporary for this family who clearly loves you as a son with a passion that oozes from every film cell. It makes my heart hurt in a way I won't be able to sooth for the rest of my life.

Because I feel like I know them now, too.

As I sit here tonight with your big brother curled up against me, my heart is filled with thoughts of you and him and your families in Korea.

And my heart is so very full tonight.

More than Words

Last week we finally sent Little Bug's birth mother a letter; or rather, we sent Little Bug's birth mother's file a letter. We were told that if the agency could contact her, they will. Whether she goes to get the letter is her choice, and one we won't know anything about unless she chooses to contact us.

We've sent pictures for her file before, and even written other letters, but none of those letters ever made it over to her file. I'm pretty ashamed of that. Knowing representatives from our Korean agency were in town, we recently sat down to pen and send a letter they would take back with them.

There will never be enough words to express our measure of gratitude and heartbreak for the decision she made, so we kept that to the point and heart felt. Besides, I tried to put myself in her shoes; if I got a letter from the parents of my child almost 3 years after I last laid eyes no him, their feelings would not be what I wanted to focus on.

If it was me, I would want to soak up every word about my boy, every detail I could glean. I'd want to know him.

So we wrote paragraph after paragraph about Little Bug. We wrote about his laugh and social nature. We wrote about his favorite foods and the things he refuses to eat. We wrote about his love of music and dancing. We wrote about his raggies and love for "choo choos." We wrote about his height and weight and his impish need to turn all the lights in our house on and off...just because he can.

We wanted her to have something tangible to hold onto.

I have this hope that perhaps the little details will give her something to anchor her to him. When she sees Elmo or Phung Phungie she can connect with him on some level. She can strip away one tiny bit amount of the unknown.

We also wrote about his spirit. I don't believe she knows that he has any special needs, and we debated mentioning it at all, but ultimately we wanted her to know what a fighter her son is...a trait I truly believe he must have gotten from her. We want her to be proud of him.

And I sent 30+ pictures. Screw the 7-10 pictures they suggest. I know they won't throw the other 25 away. I included candids with genuine smiles and posed pictures with obligatory smiles. I included pictures that reinforced his personality: happy, joyful, silly, loving, sweet, calm, and determined. I included family pictures and picture with Appa and I interacting with him. I included pictures of our daily lives: picnics to the botanical gardens, vacations, camping, celebrations, and down time.

I hope she looks at the pictures and is happy to see him happy.

We also asked for contact. We offered to receive letters or even visit her when we go to Seoul. I have no idea if anything will ever come from that, but I wanted to make sure there was no doubt in her mind that if she wanted contact, we wanted it, too.

She is the mother of our son, of course we do.

And even if she isn't able to contact us or even access the letters and pictures we will continue to send, someday Little Bug might go back to Korea and open her file. And he'll not only see proof of our love for him and the woman who gave him life, but he'll see our absolute, unwavering faith in her love for him.

The Legality and Emotional Investment of Holiday Cards

As I was waiting in line for zone 4 to board (I'm so spoiled when I travel with priority-seating Appa), I struck up a conversation with another off-duty mama heading home to her three kids. It was pretty superficial, but when she asked how many kids I had, my deliberate response was "Two. An almost-3-year-old and a 1 year old."

Usually I qualify this statement to avoid the confusion that results when I am found to only be parenting one child, but this time, with this stranger, I just tested it out on my tongue, the idea of being a two-boy mama. I let her believe that I was heading home to a rambunctious pair of brothers.

It was fun.

Granted, there was a bit truth stretching involved. Oh yes, I totally get the way brothers fight and make up. Oh yes, there isn't anything better than two little boys snuggling on their mama. Mmm humm, mmm humm, mmm humm. However, I consider Little Bro my son, and see little harm in role playing my upcoming reality.

Yet, when I started designing our holiday cards last night, I was stumped as to whether or not to include Little Bro in the signature. He isn't really a member of our family yet, not fully. Something could happen. I'm not really his mama and Appa isn't really his father and Little Bro is decidedly not wishing our 80 friends and family warmest holiday wishes for this holiday season and the new year.

It's okay to role play with a stranger in an out-of-state airport, but it's different when it comes to serious business like holiday cards.

I take my holiday cards VERY seriously.

I asked Appa to weigh in on the subject, and he immediately responded that Little Bro should be in the signature. When pressed why, his response was "why not?"

Appa does not take my our holiday cards VERY seriously.

This period post referral/pre travel is such an ambiguous period. You fall in love with a picture, the idea of a child, but can't truly love the child as your own until you meet him or her. Because legally, the child isn't yours. And beyond that, you don't know what to love about that child. I love the idea and future possibility of Little Bro. I love the way his mouth quirks up and his mad drumming skills. But what else is there that I can love about a child who I only have pictures and some basic eating and bowel movement information on?

Do I love him....YES, not in the same way I love Little Bug.

Not yet, but I have no doubt I will.

To people involved in the adoption process, these conflicting feelings make sense. You can love and claim that child as your own without actually having met him. You can declare your position as his mama even though that position currently belongs legally and physically to two other women. It's all good. It's how we roll in the adoption world. It's our version of bonding with a huge swollen tummy.

To the 60 other people on our holiday list, that might not make as much sense. It might seem more final that it actually is. It might seem more delusional than it actually is.

And yes, I am over thinking this, but holiday cards are basically legal documents to me, so they bring up strong emotions.

Anyway, bottom line is that Little Bro is going on the signature line. Not because we are pretending that he's home and not because he gives two hoots about anyone's holiday season, but because in Appa, Mama, and Little Bug's hearts, right now his name belongs there with ours.

Brown Eyed Boy

My son has impossibly dark brown eyes. I've always marveled at how strikingly dark and deep they are. So deep in fact, that I have trouble seeing his pupils. (I even told a nurse once during a my first post-tumble/possible concussion call that his pupils were not visible because his eyes were so dark.) His expressive eyes are one of my favorite things about him. I have spent hours, probably equating to full days at this point, staring into them.

Recently, when I was strapping him into his car seat after a productive outing at the big-box store, the late afternoon light hit his eyes just right....and my breath caught in my throat.

His eyes are not actually dark. I mean, they are because they look that way 99% of the time, but the actual eyes themselves are not. They are the most amazing, rich color of hot chocolate with milk. They are a leathery brown color. They are smooth and evenly saturated all the way around his little black pupils.

His eyes are beautiful in a way I never expected.

I sat there, marveling at this color I had never seen in the 2+ years I'd been staring into his eyes. He seemed amused by my open mouth gaping. We probably sat that way, a mama and son staring deeply into each others eyes in the parking lot of T2rget, for close to a minute.

You know, the most sentimental of places.

Since then, I've been trying to catch another glimpse of his true eye color, but it hasn't happened yet. Maybe it won't for a while more. But I've been thinking about that color, rolling it around in my head, since that moment.

Just one more reason Little Bug is such a beautiful child and one more reason I feel lucky to get to experience the hidden joys of being a mama.

Love

Today I woke up overcome by how much I love my sons and husband. It swirled around my brain while I woke my baby up and even prompted me to carry his 37 lbs into school, just for a couple seconds of extra cuddled. It's settling nicely in my heart as I wait excitedly for my husband to call with his "Good Morning" call. It's putting a jolt in my body as I look at Little Bro's picture and imagine just how cute he must be in person.

I've got work pouring out of my ears, but I'm so very happy this morning to be so in love.

I Wanted to Write About....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Backhanded Love Letter

Tonight Little Bug and I were sitting outside watching (or rather, feeling) the Midwest summer storm roll in. Little Bug has had a rough day (mainly because we were bad parents and kept him up way too late last night), and I was momentarily jealous of Appa's night of room service and hotel premium channels. My husband works long hours. LONG days. Usually far away. I'd be lying if I said this didn't cause me serious annoyance, frustration, sadness, etc. Most of the time I forget that when he is not here with his family, he isn't off doing something fun.

It hit me tonight that when he is away from us, he would probably cut off his left arm to spend the evening eating leftovers (actually, in the interest of truthiness, Little Bug and I had Arby's tonight) and sitting outside watching our child slowly melt down. He's working his butt off 90+ hours a week to provide a nice home for our family and let us live comfortably while creating a fufilling career.

So to the real place my head went tonight. I admire the hell out of my husband. He had the most impeccable work ethic in undergrad, always with his eye on the prize of a good grad school. He was devoted to his research in grad school, breaking ground in the field of stem-cell research. Although he could have gotten his PhD with just a publication or two and going through the motions for 5 years, he published at least five papers, filed three patents, and created a project that was robust enough to be passed along to another student. Beside work ethic, he just blew me away with how intelligent he truly was. I tease, but I found his lab rat persona pretty sexy.

So I was rocked to my core when he told me out of the blue that he was terribly unhappy with the lab life and wanted to pursue a career in business. This is a man who has spent 19 years in science-focused classes. But, when it was clear that he was serious, I watched him start auditing business classes and helped him go through case studies for interviews. Secretly, I couldn't imagine how all this could lead anywhere.

Wouldn't you know, he got the job. The job that he had absolutely no qualifications for other than just simply being his intelligent and articulate self. I still am surprised in some ways. I'm even more surprised that we agreed (and still do) that it was the right fit for our family. What I am not surprised about is how hard he has worked in the last few years to prove himself, gather necessary knowledge and experience, and just generally excel at an incredibly hard challenge that he had no business excelling at.

All this was swirling in my head while the clouds were stirring above me and my little boy tonight. Suddenly, instead of being annoyed that my husband is often absent and always having fabulous dinners and staying in swanky hotels, I had this fervent hope that somehow he will be able to teach our sons to live as fearlessly and completely as he subtly has. I'm Mrs. Status Quo, but Appa puts 110% into whatever he is doing and isn't afraid to make a change (sometimes HUGE changes) in order to seek happiness and something better for himself and the ones he loves (namely, me and our babies). It's grueling, but it seems to be worth it for him, which makes it worth it for me.

My mama's wish of the day: for my sons to be even half the fearless but realistic dreamer their Appa is.

Lucky

Some days, like today, I am blown away by how lucky I am. I don't feel like I am any more deserving and can't seem to riddle out the source of my good fortune, but MAN, all the "bad" things in my life seem to pale in comparison to all the amazing things my family has going on.