Spoiled

Before Little Bug came home, I was convinced I wouldn't spoil my child. As one of five kids with a one parent income, I didn't grow up spoiled. Comfortable, yes. Spoiled, no. I scoffed and judged other parents who clearly spoiled their kids.

I'm now trying to retrace my steps to find out where my son became spoiled. Because he is . totally . spoiled. Not materialistically...although he is actually the owner of an unholy amount of toys, clothes, and books, and is probably the definition of a spoiled child...but he could care less about any of it, so I am not counting that right now.

Little Bug throws a lot of tantrums lately. He expects his way and to get what he want when he wants it. Deviation from this lofty life-plan results in whining, crying, head banging, throwing, and the super fun "dead weight"/"stiff as a board" baby moves. This is most concerning because Little Bug still doesn't have a lot of body awareness, so sometimes his tantrums can hurt him.

I don't really blame myself for the tantrums. Appa and I haven't modeled the behavior for him (shocker), tantrums are pretty normals for toddlers, and we've been doing everything we can "by the book" to modify his behaviors through our reactions to him, keeping his safety in mind, of course.

But, so many of Little Bug's tantrums are now a direct result of not getting his way. How much of this is normal toddlerness and how much is spoiledness, I'm can't figure out. (No, neither of those are actual words.) I know part of the problem is that for a very long time, Little Bug couldn't physically do things, so we did it for him. It makes sense that he would now be confused as to why he has to walk instead of be carried or hold his own sippy cup instead of getting it poured down his throat like a little baby bird.

Occasionally the "independent" streak comes out, and he wants to do things on his own. Unfortunately, the activities he is usually interested in doing on his own include things like scaling walls, using sharp forks, going outside, playing in the street, "typing" on the computer, and diving into an empty (or full) bath.

We are trying to find this happy medium between "tough love" and forcing him to become more independent and less "spoiled," and still providing a level of reward for his hard work and continued attachment. It's a fine line that I can't fully explain. When he is crying after a hard day of walking and wants to be picked up, I feel it is best for both of us to pick him up. However, if I do, then he refuses to walk for hours after that and will tantrum if not being held. If it's raining outside or muddy and I picked him up to avoid him inevitably butt plopping at some point into the muck, he decided he should always get to be carried from the car to the door.

I guess all we can do is keep working on it. Give him his love and attention and support and push him to his limits. In the meantime, I'll just be that mama with the spoiled kid.

I guess it could be worse. I could be the Target Mom.

I Got Served and Liked It

I have this quirk where I cackle-laugh sometimes. Not like a witch, but more like Pretty Woman (always better to compare yourself to Julia Roberts than a witch). It has to be something super unexpected and exceptionally funny (to me), and I also have to be in a certain mood. But, when the stars align just so, my cackle is epic, and probably very annoying.

Tonight Little Bug was standing against my legs, demanding "UP" as he does approximately once every .5 nanoseconds. I grabbed his little hands to make him practice walking instead (because I am that mama), but Little Bug had other plans.

He started tap dancing.

Seriously. He kept moving his little feet and legs in this wild motion that was clearly his version of dancing. Every once and a while he would pause as if to expect me to show him my stuff. So, I did.

Then things got wild. There was a dance party in my dining room as Little Bug and I took turns in our little dance-off for a solid 3 or 4 minutes while Appa laughed and clapped in tune.

That tune was Little Bug's cute little giggles and my cackles--A LOT of cackles, because it was that sort of moment.

I love memories; I really do.

Let's Talk About Bodily Fluids

I've never been exceptionally good with bodily fluids…I find them pretty gross. However, it is amazing how something clicks when you have a child to take care of. Suddenly wiping away snot or drool (or even other things in the most desperate of situations) becomes a part of life. Sure, there is still that little voice in the back of your head that is quietly rocking away in the fetal position moaning in total disgust, but for the most part, it becomes automatic and barely something you think about.

I wipe drool and snot with my hands at least once every 10 minutes…usually transferring that to my own clothing if I don't have a rag handy. I've been pooped on. I've been pee-ed on from multiple directions. I've even had my son vomit directly into my mouth. (Word of advice, don't play rough and high with your baby directly after meal time…and if you do, don't laugh with your mouth open.)

Somehow, none of it is a deal breaker. It's the oddest thing.

But seriously, do try to avoid having another human being vomit in your mouth. I do not recommend it.

Still in Awe

Yesterday was not the best day of my life, and I was looking forward to sleeping the finals hours away as I dragged my body up the stairs late last night.

At the top of the stairs I noticed a thin ray of light from the nightlight seeping out from under Little Bug's door. A normal, every night occurrence.

And yet, the thought that ran through my mind in that moment was

Holy Cow, my baby is actually in that room sleeping. It really happened.

Among all the millions of things in my life to be grateful for, I am grateful for my not-always-rosy journey to motherhood that has instilled this sense of awe I still have when I sometimes look at my son (or his nursery door). I hope to never forget just what a miracle he is in my life.

Reality Check

3 posts in like 12 hours...my mind is a-spinning lately.

I just got a nice dose of reality in the form of Little Bug's occupational therapist (OT) who has been with him for over a year.

She's officially giving up on him.

Seriously?

Little Bug has made AMAZING strides in the last year, and he seems to be on the cusp of so much more. His OT has always been the farthest behind, but part of that was attributed to the fact that he was focusing on other things to develop....he's just a baby; he can't do everything all at once.

But, his OT has decided the progress just isn't enough. She thinks he needs OT twice a week (that would be, for those who are counting, 6 therapy sessions a week for Little Bug), and she thinks she isn't the one for the job anymore. She is officially assessing him at 11 months developmentally in fine motor skills. I'm being honest when I say that it stings a bit, but I am not distraught about it. (Little Bug was assessed at 3-4 months old overall when he was 11.5 months old...that is a much harder pill to swallow for some reason.)

You know what....Good. Go. Like I told Appa on the phone when he was worried about breaking this "bond" she has with Little Bug.....

She doesn't believe in my kid; she has no business being around him.

So we move on. We get a new OT who will hopefully come in with a new energy and drive. We continue to stick with the PT, DT, and ST who have been so wonderful to celebrate those little victories with us. We don't let the opinions of one woman who clearly isn't feeling it shape the opinions and hopes and dreams of those of us who totally are feeling it.

However, it is a good reality check for me. Not everyone will see past the wobbles and toy banging and drooling and cheerful smile and hugs to the intense stubbornness and perseverance and patience that makes up our son.

And that is fine, but those people don't need to be in our lives.

To Stalk or Not to Stalk

I'm not creepy, I swear.

Little Bug lived with another little girl in Korea, and we have many pictures of the two of them growing up together. We wanted to keep in touch with this little girl's family, but all our agency could tell us is the state she would be living in and that they would give the family our information.

13 months later...crickets.

After blog stalking for as long as I have, I had thought on a couple of occasions that I might have found this little girl, but it never seemed to pan out. Then, in a stroke of sheer luck, Little Bug's foster family started their own blog (how awesome is that?!?) and another family started following it...a family who used to live in the very state we had been told and who had sent the foster family an updated picture of a little girl who looked very much like the little girl in our pictures.

Here's where it gets a little stalkery.

The woman's profile has no e-mail address, and her family blog is private. Through pictures posted on the other blogs she follows (family member's blogs), I was able to confirm that this was for sure Little Bug's special Korea friend. I would very much like to keep some sort of contact with the family of the girl who lived with Little Bug, but I have no real way to reach them. I could ask the foster family, and might have to in the end, but I would prefer to keep them out of what could be an awkward situation for them should the other family not be receptive.

I mean, it could be that they had our information and chose not to contact us. Well within their prerogative.

So, the most stalkerish idea I've had is to contact the woman's father and mother, whose e-mails and blog I do have access to, and explain who I am and why I would like them to pass along my information.

Appa thinks it's creepy of me to do that. Indeed, stopping perfect strangers from contacting us about intimate family issues was part of the reason we took our blog private. I don't want to overstep my "normal-person" boundaries.

So, what is a noncreepy Mama to do?

I Wish for Her a Beautiful Life

I think about Little Bug’s birth mother every day. Usually it is when I am rocking him to sleep and thinking about what a perfect miracle he is that my thoughts momentarily drift to her. It’s almost like a mental check in with her…

Yes, he is being taken care of, and yes, there is a part of me that is sorry that you are not able to be the one taking care of him. Thank you.

It’s not a sad thing, but just a part of my life and thought process. She is not forgotten. Sometimes I will think about her or Little Bug’s birth father when wondering where Little Bug got his dashing looks or his happy disposition. However, rarely do I think about them past that. We have chosen not to share the particulars of Little Bug’s birth family with people. It’s not a scandalous secret, but it is information that we feel belongs to Little Bug. It’s his choice to share it when and with whom he wants.

So, with that in mind, I still want to talk about some feelings I have been experiencing in the last few days. A large newspaper recently ran an article about the plight of unwed mothers in Korea. It was all information I knew in general terms before, but to see if spelled out in detail was shocking.

Unwed mothers in Korea are the lowest of the low. They are disowned by their families; shunned by their friends, coworkers, and strangers; often lose their jobs or apartments; and are given very little help from the government. With all that in mind, one could somehow understand how a staggering 96% of unwed pregnancies are ended in abortion.

96%.

That means that Little Bug’s birth mother was one of just 4% of women who chose to carry her pregnancy to term. That means that she spent 9 months pregnant and working while dealing with social shunning that I cannot fathom. That means she made a choice to bear the brunt of this social suicide for the baby growing inside her.

Then she let that sweet baby boy go with the hope of a better future for him.

And he came to me.

I’m in awe of her. Truly, I am in awe, and I am humbled to be charged with the honor of raising this little boy who meant enough to her to give her the strength to go through everything that most people choose not to go through.

According to the article, she is probably still facing prejudice and social stigmas, even after giving Little Bug up for adoption. She made a sacrifice for a blessing she isn’t even able to experience. She made some very specific choices that I am just now beginning to understand.

I do not believe I will ever get to meet this woman, but I pray for her every night. Not just that she is safe and calm and at peace, but I pray that she is happy and being treated with kindness and love by those around her. I pray that she is able to enjoy life. There is this book that a lot of Korean-adoptee families read that is a collection of letters from birth mothers called I Wish for You a Beautiful Life. I like that.

I wish for her a beautiful life.