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.

How do we make our son like T*ger W*oods?

This is the question I have been mulling over lately; well, by lately, I mean until the last couple weeks, at which point the question shifted to "How do we make our son NOT like T*ger W*oods?" I don't care how old my son is, I will beat his behind if he treats a woman like that.

Anyway.

The whole point of the question was focused on talents. I firmly believe that we all have certain talents that we are just genius at. I think the difference is some children have those talents identified early and honed. Those become the amazing talented adults.

So the question becomes, how do we discover our kids' talents and give them the tools and motivation to cultivate them? The follow up question is "How hard do we push?"

I don't have an answer for that.

I guess for me, I feel strongly that Little Bug has a natural talent for music. So, do I just pick an instrument for him? Do we expose him to a bunch and see which he likes? How soon?

Last night I went to a concert and one of the string masters was Asian (not Korean). I try not to, but when I see Asian men, I often find myself envisioning Little Bug as a grown man. Watching that man on stage having the time of his life and performing in a way I have never seen before, I found myself flashing forward 20 years and thinking about how cool it would be if that was my son. How did that man get to where he was last night? How can I help Little Bug get there if he wants to?

Maybe I can't. Maybe it's complete sheer luck, but I think not. I am convinced my son has some genius in him...how and to what extent do I tease that out of him?

I think we might steer him away from golf though....

I am the worst mama in the world

Confession: About an hour ago I refused to allow my 2-year-old son to open his nursery door and walk on his merry way instead of putting on his jammies and going "night night."

His reaction (convulsions, screams of horror and excruciating pain, fury, despair, uncontrollable rage, etc.) made it clear to me that I was torturing him in the worst possible way. How could I?

Dear 3 years old, please come soon.

Tap, tap, tap

This is going to sound insane, especially in light of my post a few days ago, but it's funny how life changes.

And my sneaky gut, well, she and I need to have a little talk about consistency and timing. A few days ago we made the decision to go on hold for our second adoption. It wasn't like we were backing out, but the decision affected me very much, so much more than I had expected it to. I was so sure that we were doing the right thing, and yet, I was still very uneasy about the situation. Sneaky, sneaky gut.

My friend JoJo talks a lot about shoulder taps; those little moments that whisper "this was meant to be" or "you are on the right track." Our family's first adoption journey was more like a series of shoulder pounds or face slaps or body slams, but most were only evident after the fact and delightfully ironic.

The last two days, however, I've been getting those little taps. Who knew my gut had hands?

We went on hold primarily because we were concerned about Little Bug's development, specifically walking. So we went on hold.

A few days later, he starts walking. Tap, tap, tap.

We went on hold because I worried about having two little babies on my own while Appa traveled weekly.

This week he heard that his travel might be limited for the foreseeable future, allowing him to be home for some of the crucial evening hours. Tap, tap, tap.

Today we heard about even more referrals coming in from our agency, so many in fact that our social worker contacted us to let us know we were getting up on the list. And Appa, who has been always very vocal about waiting, suddenly went "well, maybe……" Tap, tap, tap.

So I mulled it over. Was I ready? Was my family ready? Is the anxiety I am feeling because I am thinking about getting a referral, or is it due to thinking about NOT getting a referral? Is Little Bro already out there?

The answer that we came to after prayer and some deep conversations about our gut feelings is, yes, we believe he is. So, as of today, we are off hold.

I know. I KNOW. Crazy. I'm getting whiplash just thinking about it.

Suddenly I started thinking about where I would put Little Bro, how we would have to rearrange our home, our lives. REALLY thinking about it as a possibility instead of some abstract thing like vacation or new piece of furniture.

And it feels right. Really right, actually.

This isn’t to say that we are ready for a referral right now. I don't believe we are. But, I do believe we will be ready when the time is right, and it feels right to trust that process. It might be January when we get Little Bro's referral, and it might be April or May. Either way, it will be right.

Today I am at peace more than I have been in a long while. Glad to have you back, gut. I've missed you.

PS--I want to thank those of you who are reading this and apologize for the swing in emotions lately. It's been an emotional period of time for me, and I think I am just now figuring out why. So, thanks for understanding that my blournal entries come from emotions that I am working out or documenting. I think someday it will be interesting for me to look back and see how my family was changed in just one week's worth of decisions and events. Just probably not on a day when I am changing two-humans' worth of diapers.

This won't hurt your ears

There are a few moments in Little Bug's journey that really stick with me.

I remember everything about the moment I first saw him scoot forward on the floor. You can barely watch the video because I am screaming praise so loud. He had been home for 2.5 months.

I remember the first moment I saw him crawl. Just two little "crawls," and he was panting like crazy at the end of it. You can barely watch the video because I am shaking so badly with excited laughter. He had been home 7 months.

I remember the moment he took his first steps, gangly and awkward, in the basement with his PT. There is no video, and even if there was, you wouldn't have heard a peep from me. I was speechless. He had been home 12.5 months.

I remember the day that he started taking 2-3 sorta-controlled steps. You can see the pride on both Little Bug and my faces as you watch the video, which you can actually watch because I was trying to decrease the level of my vocal vim. He had been home 13.5 months.

I remember yesterday when he suddenly decided to walk more than crawl. How his teachers met me at the door of his school nearly bursting to tell me how he barely crawled all day. How he smiled at me from a different room and then let go of his teacher's hand and walked to me.

10 steps. 20 steps. 30 steps. 40 steps. 50 steps.

How I wanted to cry and scream and cheer and find my camera and call Appa in that moment. How all I actually did was bend down and give him a big hug and whisper into his ear the things I wanted to tell him. How this was the moment that we went from taking a few steps to actually walking a percentage of the time...a percentage that will continue to grow, just as they always have. He has been home for 14.5 months.

I've felt very introspective this last week or so. Little Bug's strides have been hitting me hard. Not just because I am his mama and I love to see him progress, but I think because my heart and head knew that things were changing in our lives. Changes that in my darkest moments I wondered would ever come. Changes that would make that short list of "most memorable" moments for our whole family. Changes that will open up a whole new world to my son; a world of independence and pride and inclusion and normalcy. Changes that will prepare Little Bug to be a big brother.

I think I might have a few more good screams of joy left in me....

Bubbles and Choo Choos

Yesterday it snowed.

Although Little Bug has two December snows under his belt, this is the first year that he is physically or mentally really able to experience it.

Last night, despite the accumulating snow and worsening roads, I took Little Bug to our second round of the local botanical garden's train exhibit. I really didn't want to, but I did it solely because I knew Little Bug would enjoy it. However, the weather threw a wrench in our plans, so I had to find food for him on the way there. Believe it or not, there were few choices.

So we ended up at B*rger K*ng. Gross.

I could talk about how Little Bug got all sassy pants when he realized his "fries" were really apple slices cut to look like fries and how he refused to each anything because he was convinced I was hiding the fries in the empty bag. (I was). I could talk about how I put chocolate milk in his sippy cup and how wide his eyes went when he first took a long swig.

But, what sticks with me is how he stood at the window as I ordered food and cooed "buah buah" (bubbles) over and over again. How his back arched and he screamed with delight when we went into the blustering snow, only to swallow his scream as he opened his mouth as wide as it would go to catch the snow flakes in his mouth.

How I decided on a whim to forgo the Ergo and stroller and make him walk the whole exhibit, leading me where he wanted to go, not where I wanted him to go for a full 45 minutes. How we stood in the center of the aisle for a while watching the train above him, just because that is what he wanted to do. How his endurance was insanely controlled, and I could easily see a moment in the foreseeable future where he would pull away from my finger, and I would let him. How he kept saying "buah buah" and "choo choo" and smiling so wide his face must have hurt.

I know mine did.

It's official; I am sad

We are going on hold for Little Bro, at least until March. I always knew this was a possibility, but I was sort of hoping that things would just naturally slow down so that we wouldn't have to make the call...to say no to receiving a referral that was, for lack of a better phrase, within our reach. In so many ways, I hate being sad about this because it's a result of a number of families being matched with their sons, and that is an awesome thing.

I know we are not saying no to Little Bro. I firmly believe that our family will be ready for him when he is ready for us. He isn't ready, and neither are we.

My head gets that.

My impatient heart, however, is frowning a little tonight.