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.

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.

I Don't Know What the Crap I am Doing

Tonight I momentarily wowed some friends with my attempts to potty train Little Bug (and by attempt, I mean sit his freshly scrubbed, post-diaper change butt on his kiddy potty in exchange for three small discs of chocolate and a ton of fake clapping). When they asked me how it was going, I gave them the truth.

I don't know what the crap I am doing.

Seriously, beyond potty training, which I have absolutely no clue about other than the desired end result, that could be my mantra for motherhood. I don't know what the crap I am doing; I'm reading books and getting advice, but totally winging it. I haven't found the How to Raise Little Bug book yet...probably because I am writing it.

There is an incredible blog that I read, Uncharted Parent, and the author's tag line is "Because every parent goes where no parent has gone before." It's literally one of the most practical, logical, and beautiful ways of putting parenthood that I have ever encountered. (You have no idea how much I wish that phrase had come out of my head. I covet.)

I can't know what I am doing raising Little Bug because no one in the world has ever raised this child at this age. All I can do is my very best, learn from my mistakes, and focus on this child at this time. It doesn't matter what anyone else is doing because they have not already walked in these footsteps.

That takes a whole lot of pressure off us mamas, no?

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.

Good Morning

This morning I had a wonderful dream. I don't know what it was about, but as I came out of it I was feeling warm and happy.

Then I felt the hot weight of my son's head pressed against my body, slumbering peacefully next to me.

I vaguely recall how he got in our bed, but it was the best wake-up surprise. Cuddling next to my sleeping child is one of my favorite things in the entire world and my day just can't go wrong when I start out with something that great.

Easy

Yesterday was one of those perfect days.

Sure, I had to leave my girl's weekend getaway early. Sure, Little Bug skipped his nap and freaked out about it. Sure, I was trying to clean my house and keep said freaking-out napless child sort of happy. Sure, I fought with Appa over prioritizing cleaning rooms in our house. Sure, my favorite NFL football team looked like a bunch of high school walk-ons.

Yet, late last night, as I was uploading 70 pictures for my mother and trying not to fall asleep in my chair, I couldn't help but think that it was one of those days where being a mother was easy and fun. Little Bug's enjoyment of our simple birthday gestures and our enjoyment at his enjoyment made for a really magic day for me.

Sometimes I get so caught up in the challenges of motherhood that I let the simple pleasures pass me by. Those genuine moments shared between the three of us, organic and perfect in their sincerity:

Appa pulling a laughing Little Bug around in his new wagon while I chased after them with the camera, the morning sunlight streaming through all our windows.
Little Bug reaching on his tippy toes for the tangle of balloons. His thrill when he finally was able to reach some.
Putting the two little flowers in the special celadon vase we brought back from Korea and whispering to Little Bug who those flowers were in honor of.
Appa and I watching Little Bug's eyes widen the first time the model train brought food to our table.
Little Bug lying in the floor with this serious and contemplative look on his face as I snapped a picture, even though I know his frown was a momentary bit of rest from all the fun he was having with his gorilla, and not from sadness.
Little Bug standing in the center of a circle of 6 adoring female family members who were fawning over his every smile. Like my kid needs more of an ego boost.
Little Bug sweetly sharing his drink with his new Elmo doll.
Appa, Little Bug, and I having some rare jammie time cuddling downstairs right before bed.
All the times I looked at Little Bug and convinced myself that he indeed did look older and different now that he was 2.

Easy moments that made my little boy's special day a special day for me, too.

Where's My Cape?

I don't think I have bad self esteem when it comes to being a mother, but I certainly don't fancy myself anything special. I think that inherently most first-time mothers feel inadequate a lot of the time...it doesn't feel good to be "winging it" with something as important as your first born. I try my hardest, but I'm always on the look out for ways to improve.

Today was a rare moment when I felt like a freaking Super Mom. The most ironic part about the moment was that I wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. We were driving to the grocery store, and I was singing myself hoarse with "If You're Happy and You Know It" while Little Bug was laughing hysterically behind me. I was on my way to buy, amongst other things, a store bought chicken pot pie to feed Little Bug for dinner because, as always, I didn't feel like cooking...not exactly the stereotypical Home Cooking with a Lace Apron Mother. I was plotting ways to occupy Little Bug this evening so I could spend time stalking a blog of my friend who just brought her son home from Korea...Educator Mom of the Year right here! It was raining, and I didn't bother with an umbrella or jacket for the quick dash into the store...Uber Organized Mom, for sure.

Despite all this, running into the store with my 30 lb, laughing baby cuddling into me and sticking his chubby finger into my mouth to get me to keep singing to him, I had this overwhelming thought that

I am a freaking awesome mom.

I work all day and continue to cultivate adult relationships, come home and essentially parent my son on my own for the next few hours; work on his therapy, feed him, love him, clean him, play with him....and I like it and I'm pretty decent at it. Little Bug is a happy, well adjusted child making huge strides.

By the time I hit the check out line with my cart full of things I probably didn't need, my son whining because he wasn't getting a balloon (seriously, how many balloons does a grocery store need!?!), and the movie I wanted to rent not in the Red Box, I wasn't feeling cape-worthy anymore. The moment had past, probably as it should.


But perhaps when Little Bug is older I can start telling him some bed time stories about the dynamic duo of Everyday Mama and Little Bug.

Cleaning House

I need to clean my house. I have guests coming this weekend, and I would like to have a clean house for them. I'm one of those people that likes to put on a good face and have people think my house looks good.

Honestly, I would love to have a clean house all the time, but the reality is that I just don't know how to clean. I wasn't raised in a chore-driven home and I just haven't developed the work ethic. I worries me sometimes because I want my kids to grow up in a clean environment with good habits.

I could go on about how stressed thinking about this makes me, but the bottom line is I should probably get off the computer and go clean....that would actually be productive.

Time for Bed

Right now it is late and it's Appa's turn to take painful-teething Little Bug duty. Little Bug woke up about an hour ago in a lot of pain. I tried to rock him for a while, but he wasn't having any of me tonight.

Usually this makes me feel slightly bad and like a bit of a failure as a mother (cue all the repressed feelings of motherhood perfection drilled into me since childhood and reinforced by infertility and the invasive adoption homestudy). I always talk myself off that little ledge and think about all the times that Little Bug does prefer me.

But tonight Little Bug is still crying and in pain and it is late and Appa's turn and, quite frankly, I am a bit too tired to care.

One member of my family is sleeping tonight....and the schedule says it's me. Time for bed.