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.

WWSD

Today, as I finished loading the ice cream into the hot car and buckling Little Bug into his car seat, I noticed that a CD I had meant to purchase had been wedged down the side of the cart. A quick look at the receipt verified that it had not been paid for.

I am ashamed to admit that I stood there for a full minute with that unintentionally stolen CD trying to decide if and how I was going to remedy the situation. The truth of the matter is that it seemed easiest to just hop in the car and drive away. I certainly wasn't going to be chased down by the police.

The little angel on my shoulder kept arguing that I'd never be able to enjoy that CD and I wouldn't be able to sleep for my guilt, but the little devil on my shoulder complained that it was dinner time, hot enough to already be melting my ice cream, and a huge pain in the butt to have to unbuckle my kid and drag him back into the store.

Like I said, a full minute passed as I stood there in the parking lot looking at this CD. I am not proud of that.

Suddenly it hit me. WWLBD? What would Little Bug do? Or rather, what would I want Little Bug to do? As his parent, my morals and example are what will shape who he will become. If I stole that CD, even if it wasn't premeditated, I would be less of a person than I want my son to be, and I couldn't stand for that.

So Little Bug was dragged out of the car, the ice cream melted, and the young girl at customer service looked at me like I was crazy, but I paid for that CD and enjoyed it the whole way home.

Little Bug, someday when you are faced with a decision that might not be easy but is definitely right, I hope you will be able to think WWMD and make the right choice.

A Short Note

I am not a woman of few words, but I encounter a lot who are...especially adoption social workers. I assume this is due to lessons they've learned that when it comes to the words you say to desperate parents who hang onto your every letter, you are more careful with your words. And indeed, as a parent who is desperate and does hang on every word, this brief way of communication privately annoys disappoints me.

Yesterday I sent our new social worker a short (read: two paragraphs) e-mail with an update on our nonupdate. I didn't ask any questions and didn't even really expect a response back. I basically just wanted her to know that we hadn't forgotten about Little Bro and that we were still trying whatever we could to make the process speed up (which, by the way, is not an option).

To my surprise, I got a swift, one line response:
He is your little guy—just waiting for you to get through all of these hurdles…

This might seem insignificant, but it was exactly what I needed to hear at this point. Not a bunch of whens and at that points and as soon as, but just a short note validating that even though all the major players might not formally think so yet, where it counts, Little Bro is our little guy.

And really, what else needs to be said?

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?

Peri

Back when I thought I was going to "poof" and get pregnant (of course with a girl), I decided that her middle name would be "Peri," because in Greek it means "mountain dweller."

Although I am no longer stock piling little girl names and my kids already come with what will be the middle names, the name "Peri" had always stuck with me. I love the idea of my children being "mountain dwellers," not just nature lovers or weekend warriors.

I want my children to be comfortable putting a 50 lb pack on and hiking for days in the wilderness. I want them to experience packing a car filled with essentials spur of the moment and driving up into the mountains to find a random spot flat enough to pitch a little tent. I want them to know how to start a fire without a match (but be smart enough to always carry waterproof matches). I want them to know the best way to keep your clothes warm is to put them at the bottom of your mummy bag. I want them to brush their teeth with their fingers (with or without water) and know how to purify water. I want them to roast food on a stick they picked up off the ground and be grateful they have a roll of toilet paper and not just leaves to do their business out in the woods.

I want them to feel the cold morning dew on their fingertips from the inside of the tent. I want them to breath in the crisp, clean air that comes in the early morning hours of the mountains. I want them to taste the smokiness of a campfire dinner and sigh at the warmth of hot chocolate in the morning. I want them to start a marshmallow on fire and watch it burn...and I want them to know those are the gooey, best kind. I want them to hear the world at night and see the stars shining brightly.

I want them to want to get dirty. I want them to love to get dirty. I want them to know how to simultaneously enjoy and preserve nature. I want them to love nature for what it is....nature.

Appa and I were so lucky to be raised in families and an area of the country (beautiful Idaho) that afforded us the chance to enjoy nature early and often. My mama packed each of her five babies into camp sites. At age 13, I trained for months to carry a pack on my back for multiple days as I hiked (not scaled, mind you) one of the many mountains I've had the honor of standing on the top of. I've had the pleasure of sitting in a mountain valley filled with flowers that only a couple people would ever see before they died and taking a shower in a tiny stream waterfall. Appa's family took week long hikes to fish remote lakes, bear spray close at hand and banking on catching their food. Together we've gotten in our car and driven up into the mountains with our tent, some blankets, and a bottle of wine. We've even attend a wedding where the accommodations were tents after a meadow reception. It's normal to us.

My kids? My kids live in a huge metropolitan area. Camping is something you have to schedule...to book an actual camp site. Camp grounds have showers and game rooms and play grounds. The RVs that surround you blare the sounds of the video gaming system the kids would rather play. Appa and I can't always take our kids back West and give them the same exposure we had, and for that, I am very sad. But we are going to try with what we have here, and I am really excited about that.

A tent, a roll of toilet paper, matches, and some food. Hopefully by the time our boys are old to do some more rugged hiking and camping, we will have instilled in them enough of a love for nature that they will enjoy it as much as we will.

Maybe someday if they are blessed with a daughter, they might name her "Peri."

Paci

This morning Little Bug was digging through a drawer he normally does not get to play in. Because it was either play in the drawer and be quiet or demand to be held while Mama is trying to apply makeup (and be only 10 minutes late for work, as opposed to the usual 15-20 we've been rocking lately), I let him enjoy the little slice of forbidden.

Then he found it.

No, nothing that will push him into years of therapy....he found a pacifier.

At first I was amused. I don't know why the pacifier was in that drawer (we bought them, he rejected them, he sucks his thumb, end of story), but there it was. He recognized it from some of his little friends at school. I am ashamed to admit that my initial though as he laughed and popped it in his mouth was "score, that will stop the whining and maybe I can apply something more than just mascara!"

10 minutes later, I could just see the wheels in his head turning. He liked it. He REALLY liked it. Perhaps it was just novel, or perhaps he liked having the use of both his hands while sucking, but when I casually tried to remove it before we headed out the door, he ran.

He RAN.

The only way I could get that thing out of his mouth was to give him the forbidden garage door opener. Seriously, this kid has had a morning of forbidden pleasures. We'll probably even have shellfish for dinner (no, we won't actually).

At an age when most parents are killing themselves trying to break their kids of the pacifier habit, I have to go and encourage it. I so deserve the years of dental bills I can already see in our future.

Every Night

Every night, when I cuddle into his body after he insists on me being "in, in" his bed and lay my hand gently on his silky hair to comfort him as he falls asleep, I think of you.

I wonder if you imagine what his body feels like pressed against yours, how his breath sounds as it evens into a deep sleep, how his fine hair feels when you run it carefully through you fingers. I wonder if you imagine what it would be like to convince a 2.5 year old to go to sleep at night. I wonder if you imagine what kind of comfort item he might want. I wonder if you imagined yourself lulling him into sleep after getting the supreme honor of spending the whole day hearing him call you his mama.

I want you to know that I think of you every night, that I wonder these things and so many other things about you (are you happy, are you healthy, are you loved) without fail. Most of all, each night in those minutes after he falls asleep and I sit watching him, lightly petting his hair and soaking in every detail of him, I think of you and feel such sadness that you couldn't be here to experience this.

Each night I remember that my greatest joy in life is inextricably linked to one of my greatest sorrows. Your sacrifice, your heartache, your love for him....I want you to know I will honor that every night for the rest of my life.