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.

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.

More

Yesterday was Little Bro's 14 month birthday. Overall, I am really proud of how we've handled the wait thus far (because as far as we are concerned, we've been waiting 4 months, not 2, thank you very much unhelpful state employee). Not just publicly, but truly, in our everyday lives. Appa and I find ourselves at the oddest times talking about Little Bro, wistful and bummed that it will be so much longer until he can come home, but honestly, I'm not falling apart over it. It is what it is. My mantra of patience is finally starting to work.

Now I am just selfish.

I have close to 50 unique pictures of my son and close to 15 minutes of video. That's more than I ever in my wildest dreams would have hoped for. It's a blessing, and I am trying really hard to remember that.

Because I want more.

Our agency recently stated that each child got pictures taken on their 1st birthday and that we could expect to get those within 6 weeks. At 8 weeks out, I started to feel cheated. You know, because it wasn't like personal friends of ours actually met with him on his birthday and took amazing pictures that grace frames all over our house and a video I watch nearly every day. Yet, I still have had the audacity this week to feel bad for myself that I didn't get any other pictures from the agency.

Some friends recently received pictures that the foster families had taken and brought in to be sent over. So me, of course, I start wanting this, too. Greedy, greedy me.

Little Bro isn't even going in for a check up again until next month, but already I can tell that I will be slightly on edge for weeks after in the hopes of getting new pictures. Pictures that may or may not come because we're saving our allotted update requests for the months closer to his arrival.

All I want is a picture of him in his "Little Brother" shirt.....okay, that's not all I want.

This is just pure greed on my part, and I know it. I can publish this entry and go spend a significant amount of time studying the many, many faces my adorable son has. In fact, I plan on doing just that. Many parents can't do that...get nothing during their wait. I know that if I don't see or hear another stitch of Little Bro until we meet face to face, I am still going to be considered abnormally lucky in all of this.

Which is why I try to keep this green-eyed monster under wraps.

But Little Bro, I want you to know that although I am trying to handle the long and arduous wait for you with grace I hope you are one day proud of, you're always on my mind and in my heart. My lack of whining is not because I don't care.

It's because I care way too much.

Time Out

Last night I gave myself a time out.

By yesterday afternoon, my attitude had deteriorated to a pretty low level, primarily because of my heartbreak at having to remove my sad, but resigned, baby from the awesome bubble juggler presentation. I was supposed to go out for a mom's night, but my heart just wasn't into it. My house was a mess, my head was a mess, my husband's travel plans to come home were a mess. I was crying for no reason.

So I gave myself a time out. Little Bug went to play with his prearranged babysitter, and I went home and did some cleaning while watching a little of a favorite Kdrama. I had a drink. I took some time to use some of my anxiety and depression tools I learned from the Midwest Center to break down why my mood was plummeting, which then allowed me to start making some modifications issue by issue. In the span of 2 hours, I was feeling a little better about things.

I'm still swearing in my head, and clearly I am blogging instead of doing my work right now, but I'm working on it and don't feel quite as overwhelmed as I have the last 4 days. Weeks like this creep up on lots of people, I think. Most just don't have blournals where they word vomit about it.

If only time outs worked as well on my toddler as they do on me......

Go to Your Happy Place

Last weekend was like a sugar high; it was that great.

The last two days have been one hell of a crash from that high.

A lot of small, not very important in the long run things have piled so high that I sat at my desk this afternoon completely numb. I didn't want to be there, and I didn't want to be home. All I wanted to do was sleep, but even then, I didn't have enough get-up-and-go to even fall asleep at my desk.

Needless to say, the idea of picking up my 2 year old to play single mom to his active self had me a bit overwhelmed. I wasn't on my A game today, and honestly, I wasn't overly interested in even mustering anything more than my C+ game. When I picked him up with a less than glowing daily report, I had no idea what my plan was after I left the parking lot. I knew I didn't want to go home, but I also didn't want to sit in a restaurant on a day with mild humidity.

So I went to the one place I knew I could count on, our local botanical gardens.

This place holds such a special place in my heart. It is the place where I claimed my right as Little Bug's mother. It's the place we've met friends and spent lovely evenings as a family. It's a place that is teaching my suburban baby to appreciate and protect nature. It's a place that Little Bug and I both equally enjoy, if in different ways.

I picked up some dinner, strapped my baby to my back because we've both been enjoying the closer contact lately, and wandered to our secret shaded spot to eat and enjoy a bluegrass concert that happened to be playing (Little Bug and I both enjoyed it so much that I bought the CD). My baby choose to sit on my lap and eat his dinner....something he rarely does. I stared at his profile as the sun gently made it glow. I accepted many a compliment on his cuteness while he waved and blew kisses to passer-byes. We both enjoyed the wonderful train garden and officially reached "regulars" status with the old men who volunteer there. I thought of my son in Korea and my husband in New York, but I found that unlike the majority of the last 2 days, I only thought about how lucky I was that they were somewhere in the world and mine, not dwelling on the fact they weren't there with me.

Mainly, I just allowed myself to be present and with Little Bug. Lots of eye contact, lots of getting down on his level, lots of allowing myself to be wrapped up safely in the little world the botanical garden gives to us.

Being a mom is hard and often makes dealing with outside stress even more stressful. I'm grateful for my happy place, and I'm grateful beyond belief for the little soul who loves to share it with me. It's happy for me because of him.

Patience

I've taken to wearing a little collection of charms around my neck each day. It's admittedly not my style, but I'm compelled each morning to fasten all three charms around my neck and say a silent prayer for patience.

The charm on the far right says patience in hangul (the Korean characters). Appa bought it for me during the wait to bring Little Bug home. At the time, I was 2 months into my wait and antsy as hell. Patience, I thought, could be my mantra.

I had no idea at the time that my little bug would teach me a million times over what the meaning of that word really was.

So my charms evolved from just the word to the real thing. SHMC, my living, breathing reminder of my ongoing quest for patience. It hasn't always been easy (in fact, it has been the hardest thing I have encountered in my life), but he has taught me more about patience than anything else ever could, and I am a better person for it.

His charm sits between my hangul charm and my final charm because I feel like he is the reason that naive, wailing-after-2-months woman is the woman I am today. The woman who has had to sit by for 2 full months while her ESHB's paperwork is unnecessarily delayed, causing heartache and anger that has surprised us all, but who still falls asleep at night counting her blessings.

It's not easy, and it makes me want to cry every time I think about it, but each morning I fasten on my reminders of my prayer for patience and wait for the day when the patience will all pay off...just like it always does.

Putting on the Game Face

The last few days have been stressful for me. I'm slammed at work. Appa was out of town. I'm overly anxious for an expected update on Little Bro. Things are completely stalled with Little Bro's adoption paperwork and the implications of the stall (and the lack of support from those whose help we sought) are heartbreaking. Yesterday I sat at my desk and cried.

I'm not a crying at work sort of gal.

The one thing that keeps running through my head is to put on my game face. I don't really see any other choice.

I have to put on my game face at work. I can't ruin my reputation of being even-headed and calm and professional over personal stress. And yes, the amount of work that fell in my lap this week is unholy. But I can either turn it into an opportunity to show that I can handle the pressure or I can turn into the girl that cries at her desk when things get tough.

Game face.

I have to put on my game face for Little Bro. Amid my heartbreak and frustration and fear over the stall in his paperwork, and more recently, my hurt, confusion, and sadness over the growing fissure of a relationship I had counted on to advocate and support our family through this process, I have to stay calm and get my questions answered in respectful, yet satisfactory way. I owe it to my son to do whatever it takes to make sure he is not waiting longer than absolutely necessary. Tears and anger are not going to get me anywhere.

Game face.

Most of all, I have to put my game face on for Little Bug. He doesn't care about my work, nor does he care about his brother's paperwork. All he cares about is that his mama is there to play with him after being away all day. That she is there to laugh at his new dance moves, sing his favorite songs to him, and play our new favorite game, "silly eyes." Over the last few days, I've caught myself frowning as I mull over all the stressors I'm dealing with. I catch his eye and see him falter, confused as to why I'm unhappy with him. He's way too young to know anything of stress or to understand why I might be stressed. All he knows is what he senses and sees from me.

Game face.

The One that Almost Got Away

Two years into our struggle with infertility, we found ourselves at a crossroad of sorts. Not a huge one, certainly by infertility standards, but we were beaten down and sad. Medications and side effects, more uncertainty, more morning temperature checks, more negative test lay ahead of us, and we knew it.

So Appa came home from work one day and made me a deal. If we didn't get pregnant within a year, he would take me back to our honeymoon resort in Jamaica. We would celebrate each other and our time as just a couple, because we both knew with conviction even then that we would one day have our lives turned upside down by a child.

A year past and we didn't get pregnant, but the following year we ended up spending a month in Hawaii, which made it impossible for us to take our special celebration trip. (I know, I KNOW; a month in Hawaii, what victims we were.) The following year we had to push off our celebration trip again; this time for a little jaunt over to Seoul, South Korea. Last year we chose to celebrate our family by sticking close together as a unit of three.

But for our anniversary last year Appa made it clear. 2010 was our year to celebrate, not just each other, but everything we've been through. The bad, the ugly, and all the REALLY good. We were booking this trip, damn it.

So we did, and soon we will be laying in the sun on the same beach we laid on 7 years ago as we sipped "dirty bananas" and imagined what our lives would be like 5 years from then.

I have to say: our visions for our 5-year plan didn't quite look like our reality now, but our reality now is so. much. better. than anything we had dreamed up.

So this time we'll lay on that beach and sip "dirty bananas" and imagine our future 5 years from now. We'll raise a mini-umbrella-embellished toast to the most perfect little boy back home being spoiled rotten by his doting grandparents and the sweet little boy back in Korea being spoiled rotten by his doting foster family.

We'll feel bad for being selfish and miss Little Bug acutely, but we won't forget the purpose of this trip: to celebrate us as a couple, not just as an omma and appa. I'm really looking forward to long serious talks with my partner and silly water antics with my best friend. I'm looking forward to returning home to hold my baby in my arms rejuvenated in mind, body, and marriage....and for the positive impact that will have on our home and on the decisions that will be weighing hard on our hearts.

Honestly, the timing of this trip, almost down to the day, is nothing short of miraculous. We need this. I need this. Right. Now.

I'm scared out of my mind to leave my baby behind, but that is for a different blournal entry. Instead I'll end with a different sort of confession.

I'm really looking forward to the "dirty bananas." Not gonna lie.

This Mama Needs A Hobby

It has become apparent to me recently that I need a hobby…preferably a constructive one that does not involve the computer (or any of the tracking lists, blogs, bulletin boards, online groups, etc. that come with it).

The problem is I am essentially a bookish sort of girl who is happiest curled up with a book or my computer. Sure, I love to go out and be active, explore things, etc., but those really aren't things I can translate into a daily hobby I can use to take my mind off of what is looking to be an emotionally draining couple of months where I will need to be keeping busy and sane.

I enlisted my BFF Ali(ce)'s help in coming up with a hobby for me. She knows me really well (partly because she is like 85% the same person). Her response, "This is a little tricky since we are not super crafty people." She's right; I have no patience for anything creative (other than Blurb, which is off limits as it is a computer-related hobby). This means things like sewing, kitting, scrapbooking, quilting, and anything else like that is off the table.

I considered exploring cooking, but the reality of my working mom status is that cooking a creative or fun meal is just not really a daily option. I considered redecorating my house, but the only room I really need to redecorate is Little Bug's new room, and I'll be honest, that's not where my head needs to be right now. Plus, any other room would just be me spending money on more decorations. I don't think Appa would really get behind that sort of hobby. I don't draw, or paint, or even have an idea how to repurpose things for artistic purposes.

We finally came up with something that would be useful and something I could be successful with some time and effort.

I'm going to landscape our yard.

For me, this will be a major undertaking. I hate to garden. Hate it. The previous owners planted all these fancy flowers and plants that bloom throughout the year and I hate them because the way they are planted leaves room for tons of weeds (not to mention I think some of them look like weeds). I like boring, traditional, symmetrical looking landscaping…they liked cracked-out abstract not-sure-if-that-was-an-accident-or-not landscaping. It's going to be a challenge, and that is exactly what I need.

My plan of attack is to spend time right now researching how to garden, what types of plants and flowers and planters I would like to use, and planning out my planting. Once it gets warmer and lighter, I will be able to work on this project after Little Bug goes down for bed.

I'll need to get an outdoor wine glass...

So, if anyone has tips on gardening, ripping out expensive flowers, various types of low-maintenance plants and ground cover, send them my way.

Operation
Exchange Vegetation And Negativity
has officially began.

Angel Baby

Last night was charmed in my home. I went out for a cocktail with a friend, picked a happy Little Bug up from school, had an uneventful dinner where Little Bug ate a good amount of food without throwing it on the ground, and then we went outside until it was time for bed. Hearing the squeals of delight and laughter and watching Little Bug practice his mall walking skills was balm to my frazzled soul. Oh, and speaking of bedtime, he cuddled right into me and slept like a rock, especially when I transferred him to his bed 10 minutes later. Appa and I got to cuddle and watch LOST together like an actual married couple and our kid had to be woken up this morning.

No tantrums. Not a one. No sleep issues. Not a one.

I'm not worried about jinxing myself because I still have 8+ months of the blasted 2s, but for one night, it was perfect. And we needed it.

In my mind, this was the end of The Great Hell Week 2010. Sure, I expect we will still see the normal fits, but I think he's past through his growth spurt pains for now, and we can get back to enjoying our charmed life with our angel baby.

"Just the Two of Us" is Not My Favorite Song

Oy, baby. Mama feels the same way.

This week has been a rough week for me fatigue-wise because of my virus. I've been super busy at work and just really burning at both ends. Friday I had my first Red Bull in 8 years...longer if you consider there was no vodka in it. It made me feel like I was on some great drug. I need to stay far away from that stuff going forward.

This week Little Bug started going through one heck of a growth spurt that significantly altered his mood (which is already manic as hell because he is 2), his eating (no 2-year-old should pack in 3 eggs, fruit, and cheese and ask for a 4th egg one breakfast and then toss the next morning's breakfast all over the floor in total disinterest), and his sleeping habits (switching from a good, deep sleeper to a drop of a hat light sleeper, can't be transferred from my arms to his bed, must sleep with me or won't sleep at all). He started throwing things, hitting, scratching, and biting. He has, at last count, 7 bruises and two cuts on his head from his midnight tantrums.

This week Appa was gone...ALL week. Granted, Appa travels almost weekly, but he has been on a local project since we hit "the 2s," and when he does travel, he is only gone for a few days during the week, not on the weekends.

I am proud to say that Little Bug and I made it to school and work mostly on time. We enjoyed some fun activities in the evenings and this weekend. My house is no worse than it was last week. I only ate one bag of jelly beans and 3 Cadbury Eggs. I did very much enjoy being with my son.

But it's been HARD.

I cannot imagine being a single parent (although I understand that my 6 days without my husband is really not anything compared to raising a child alone). I know some single parents, and although I might have admired them before, I am in downright awe of them now. Not only was I physically and emotional drained every day (and it became progressively worse as the week wore on), but by yesterday, I found my patience with Little Bug was down to zero. I wasn't able to take anything on the cuff . Case in point, during a lunchtime time out, he sat and chanted "no, no, no" while waving his finger at me. Yeah, he didn't learn that from Classical Baby....

Little Bug was in rare form these last few days, so I think even if Appa had been around, I still would have had to dig deep for the patience to get through it, but it makes me feel bad that I don't think I was as patient as I should have been with him this weekend. Sometimes when he would look at me with his mournful eyes after being scolded I just imagined him thinking "why don't you love me anymore, Mama?"

Oh, baby. I do love you. I just need to get better about showing it in the moments right after your throw our cordless phone at our big screen TV because I put up a baby gate or rip the hide out of your drum because I closed the blinds.

Appa is home now. He is going to take us out to dinner (doesn't know this yet) and give me a nice long massage. Tonight, when our kid's head starts spinning at approximately 1 am, he can deal with that, too.

I like it when it's just the three of us!

Flowing through me

I have started no less than four posts on this blog in the last few days and never pushed publish. It's interesting how I am sometimes moved to write about something, but once I write about it, I don't feel moved to actually preserve it.

Today is another one of those days. After abandoning a post just now, I instead just want to remember a memory from this morning.

Little Bug has been having trouble regulating his rise-and-shine time in the mornings. This morning I vaguely remember him waking up far earlier than Appa and I intended to wake up, and Appa suggesting we bring him into our bed to sleep for another hour. This rarely works because Little Bug loves our bed and only wants to play in it, not sleep.

However, the next thing I remember is waking up to the smell of my baby. Little Bug was nestled in between Appa and I, his thumb in his mouth, and looking supremely comfortable in Appa's embrace. Appa and I were touching toes since there was no other way for us to cuddle around our littlest human. I reached out and touched Little Bug's hand.

In one of my meditation courses for my anxiety, I was taught when I am severely anxious to pinch my fingers together and plant my feet on the ground envision my positive energy flowing through my body in one continuous circle with no room for it to escape.

This morning, as I touched Little Bug's hand and Appa's toes, I imagined all the love our little family has flowing through the three of us in one continuous circle, filling all three of us up.

It was a nice way to start the day.

Cleaning up my life

I have always struggled with keeping my spaces clean. I think it is a combination of bad habits and less structured cleaning and chores when I was younger (not to blame my mom in any way--this is my demon).

Anyway, I clean like I diet. Binging and purge, binge and purge. I let my spaces go until it's "go" time for something and then I really power clean the whole house spotless. I'm good at cleaning...when I do it.

So, tomorrow is our home inspection for our adoption. Just like last time, I have avoided cleaning until the last minute (tonight). I'll be up late, stressed out, and grumpy tomorrow. Great way to treat myself, yay me!

I notice a marked difference when I am in a clean space. I am happier, less anxious and stressed, and less "blue." I'm more creative and have more energy. I LOVE when my spaces are clean; it's just rare when that is the case.

Today I happened upon something called the Happiness Project. I can already tell this is a site that I would like to explore more fully, but the article about "de-cluttering" really caught my eye, in particular this quote:

Outer order contributes to inner calm.

So, so true, and something I have personally experienced on my own. I love to spout off to people about "being kind to yourself," but not allowing myself to live in a space that makes me comfortable is most decidedly not being kind to me.

So, with this as my new "homemaker" mantra, I'm going to see how long I can keep my spaces at a level of cleanliness that channels that inner calm (but doesn't totally stress out the working mom in me). This is a great time to start.

Because tonight I will be up until the wee hours of the morning cleaning like a crazy mad woman for that blank slate.