Bracing Myself

I'm not exactly sure if a recent realization makes me a monster or a saint....or perhaps just human, but the truth is, I'm slightly disappointed that Little Bug isn't going to be wearing leg braces anymore.

He's been graduated out of them, which is an amazing accomplishment because our goal was to have him transition to smaller braces by kindergarten, so to have him transitioning (and skipping the mid-sized braces entirely for just a small insert into normal shoes) before age 3 is nothing short of a miracle.

I'm thrilled, of course. Proud, happy, relieved, etc. etc.

But honestly, there is a part of me that isn't all those things. I realized I have used those braces for a number of purposes.

1. I use them as a nonverbal cue to strangers that my kid has some special needs. People look at my kid all Forrest-Gumped-up and make allowances for him, allowances maybe they should or should not make. This used to annoy me, but now it honestly makes it easier when out in a larger group setting.

I'm not saying I'm all for kids who have special needs to have a label stamped on their forehead, but the reality is that it's easier to assimilate in a social setting if people know going in that there might be some extra care needed with my kid. Have the big braces do the introductions is a lot easier than me saying, "Hi, Little Bug has balance issues and might not play at the same level as your kid. Please make sure your child doesn't push mine over, because mine will hit yours in the face.....Nice to meet you." I'm pretty sure this isn't 100% morally okay to feel this way, but it's the truth.

2. I also realized that I look at Little Bug's braces as a badge of honor. I'm so tremendously proud of the hard work he endures daily to get where he is, and the braces are a visual manifestation of that. People can see that he has physical limitations, and yet, watch him chase after a goose or walk through the aisles of a store. I want people to be impressed with my kid, because I sure as hell am. I'm pretty sure that is not 100% okay, either.

Without the braces, I worry that strangers will see my big-for-his-age son and expect him to act like a normal 3 year old would. I worry they will make assumptions about him that I'm not comfortable with once they start interacting with him or see him wobble with his not-quite-all-there-yet balance. Even more, I worry about the reactions he'll get. The surprise or confusion on the face of a stranger playmate or parent at the children's museum or swimming pool when he trips over his own two feet or can't follow his new friend up a set of stairs. I worry about when he gets old enough to start feeling self conscious.

I know these concerns are contradictory, but the truth is Little Bug won't be the only one adjusting to a world without leg braces, and that makes me feel a little ridiculous. Or human.

I'm not sure.

From the Mouth of Someone's Babe

Tonight Appa and I took Little Bug to our local neighborhood park. Little Bug inevitably veered toward the sand area where two little girls were playing. After dumping sand on himself for a while, he noticed one of the girls, who I assumed was Korean and about 10 years old, was making mud with water from an old bubble container.

He went into the zone, chanting "bubbas, babbas, bubbas" as he went in for the steal. Me, being the responsible mama that I am, cut him off at the pass and tried to modify his plans to simply saying "hello."

The girl was sweet, but the following conversation threw me for a mini loop.

Her: "Is he Korean?"
Me: "Yes, he was born in Korea."
Her: "He must be stupid."
Me: "What?"
Her: "He must be stupid."
Me: "What? No, he's smart."
Her: "Stupid. 'Bubba' is Korean for stupid."
Me: "Oh, no. He doesn't know that Korean word....he wants your bubbles."

At this point, I am feeling a bit silly. Clearly I misheard her. I also deep down wish that I had known enough Korean to know what that word sounded like to her.

Her (contemplative, as if I have somehow confirmed something for her): "Are you his mom?"
Me: "Yes."
Her: "Oh....you don't look like him."
Me: "No, I don't. We adopted him from Korea."

Side note: I think it is silly when parents take offense to this question and having to say the word "adoption." Adoption isn't a four-letter word. I'm proud of it, and if asked in a respectful way, I have no problem confirming what is clearly obvious.

Her: "Was he abandoned?"

Whoa. I was not expecting the conversation to go there with this little girl. I consider myself pretty cool under pressure when I get probing or intrusive comments from adults, but looking at this young girl, with nothing but childlike curiosity in her question, I was left tongue-tied. I wanted so much to say something I would be proud for Little Bug to hear, even if he is too young now to understand my words and their implications. I saw no reason to brush this little girl off as I delicately answered the question.

Me: "No. His birth mom just could not take care of a baby. So we adopted him and are his mommy and daddy."
Her: "Why couldn't she take care of him? Did she not have enough money?"

Seriously, who is teaching this young lady critical thinking? If this was an adult who was still needling me, I would finally be telling her to politely shove it, but I couldn't do that to this young lady. How to explain the injustice of adoption while protecting my son's privacy while using age and socially appropriate words for a 10-year-old stranger making mud patties in the bocce ball court?

Me: "She just could not take care of a baby. So we are taking care of him now and are his parents. We love him very much."

With that, she simply nodded and unceremoniously got up and went to fill her bubble container with more water, and Little Bug wandered off to the swings.

And I'm left now mulling it over.

Because I have been preparing for years for these questions. I've fielded tons of them, quite literally from the moment we stepped on our front porch with Little Bug in our arms. I've defended and deflected and shared. And it always works out because ultimately, people know when to back off, and if they don't, I can write them off. Adults see and accept shades of gray in the world.

But children, their honesty and black and white lenses they view the world with is what Little Bug will face. The "why" is hard for me to answer....how will I even prepare him to answer it for himself when I'm not in the bocce ball court with him? When he hasn't had years to practice and can't even spell the words he's expected to say.

Maybe that's not even what has my heart constricting tonight. I feel like I can prepare him to the best of my ability. What I really am sad about is that ultimately, his own childlike curiosity won't be satisfied either. There is no answer good enough. I know how that lack of answer made me feel tonight, so I can't begin to imagine how it will one day make him feel.

When his heart is also asking "why?"

Love

Today I woke up overcome by how much I love my sons and husband. It swirled around my brain while I woke my baby up and even prompted me to carry his 37 lbs into school, just for a couple seconds of extra cuddled. It's settling nicely in my heart as I wait excitedly for my husband to call with his "Good Morning" call. It's putting a jolt in my body as I look at Little Bro's picture and imagine just how cute he must be in person.

I've got work pouring out of my ears, but I'm so very happy this morning to be so in love.

Family. Work. Sleep.

I've spent the last two weeks "hibernating."

In the last 7 days, I got promoted at work. Although this is a very cool thing, it also comes with a client and projects that need significant attention...like yesterday. I also flew across the country for a weekend. I hosted my family for a couple days and then turned around and started hosting my little sister. I attempted (and basically failed) to spend some quality time with my husband, as it has been nearly a month since we had a quality night to ourselves. I raised my kid and he's doing great.

So, by hibernating, I mean that I've drained my life down to the bare essential priorities lately.

Family. Work. Sleep.

I've barely uploaded (or taken) pictures of Little Bug this month. Blogging has been reduced to the barest minimum to preserve my family memories. Facebook is hit or miss. E-mail? What's that?

It's felt odd, but not nearly as odd as I expected it to feel. I don't FEEL disconnected or left out, I simply miss those people who I connect with through blogs and Facebook.

The people, not the medium.

The online community is here to stay in my life. I have made wonderful friendships and will continue to cultivate new ones that will enrich my life and my family's life. Am I going to throw that away? Not a chance. But, I've sort of enjoyed shutting the computer at night and curling up (in bed!) with a book. I've enjoyed turning away from my computer at work to proof a large project with only my iPod, and not Facebook notifications, as my companion. Yahoo? It's about to be a thing of the past.

I'm going to continue to find this balance that seems like it could really start working for me right now with some tweaking. Balancing what (or to be blunt, who and why) my online priorities with my basic life priorities.

Family. Work. Sleep.

Seeing Him

My sister and I had a long talk recently about seeing your children, the very physical idea that although we look at our kids all day long, we sometimes stop seeing them. I think a big problem I had with my attachment to Little Bug was that although my eyes would meet his, my mind was far away. I wasn't in the moment with him, and I think that although he got plenty of time looking into my eyes, what he probably saw was far away thoughts and not a mama's adoring love.

I've been really mindful of this lately. I make time each afternoon to gaze into my kid's eyes as we play on a bed or heap of pillows. I try to take a moment or two in the car after I buckle him in to look into his eyes and smile a really genuine smile. I make sure that I am talking to him, not at him.

I'm hoping to master this ability to see my child each day before Little Bro comes home. I want to be able to be more than just a mom for my children; I want to be a mom to them. I want Little Bug to know, even at his little toddler age, that what he has to say is important to me and that I love being in his presence.

It's not easy, especially when I am tired, bored, depressed, angry, busy, or any number of the other factors that shape my day. It's so much easier to look at him and talk at him without taking the time to shift my energy into him.

But he's the most important little person in my life, and I want him to grow up seeing that.

Write and Ye Shall Recieve

Blah blah writer's block blah blah BODILY FLUIDS.

Dear Me,

When you treat bodily fluids in a flip manner, they will come back to show you who is boss. Just ask the pair of cream dress pants you put on this morning that are now covered in blood from Little Bug's seemingly random "good morning" nose bleed...or the other pair of dress pants you put on to replace the bloody dress pants that are also now also covered in blood from the encore.

Lame.

Sincerely Yours,
Me

I Wanted to Write About....

The great thing about this blournal is that I allow myself complete control (or lack of) when it comes to consistency. If I make multiple entries a day, that's okay with me. If I don't have anything to say for a week, that is okay, too.

The last few days have been awesome, but as I sat down to write about them, the words were stilted. Too much and too little, all at once.

I wanted to write about how hard and lonely and just off it felt to have Appa away for 2 long weeks and how proud I was of myself for not only surviving, but actually creating a great few weeks for both myself and my boy. I actually enjoyed myself.

I wanted to write about wine and girlfriends and how thankful I am for both.

I wanted to write about leaving my boys at 4 am, just hours after Appa got home. The conflicting emotions that ran through my heart as Little Bug woke up and wailed for me, rejecting his beloved Appa over and over. That's never happened before, and I'd be lying if said I didn't replay the scene over and over again with some measure of joy that my role as mama was finally meaning something special and exclusive to Little Bug.

I wanted to write about how special it is to have a best friend like Ali(ce). Spending time with her is like stepping back into my past, only as my present self. It is comfortable and fun and leaves me happy. Just really, truly happy. Even just a few hours. And how she bought Little Bro a crinkle lion lovie to send in a care package, only to exchange it for something else when she saw my latest care package post with the same crinkle lion already included that I had purchased without knowing she had bought him one. Ha.

I wanted to write about holding my infant nephew in my arms and being absolutely terrified. I'm the oldest of five and have held more than my fair share of babies, but now that I am a mother, the fragile nature of an infant terrified me.

I wanted to write about how kissing his head felt like warm peaches.

I wanted to write about laying on the couch for hours while Itty Bitty slept on my chest. How is felt so wonderful, and yet, it didn't make me wish for that moment with my own babies. In fact, the limiting nature of providing for an infant actually made me secretly glad that I didn't have to go through that…although it made me feel about a million times more grateful when I thought about my sons' foster mothers putting in all the time and effort and sacrifice for children they knew they might never see grow up. That makes me so sad and so grateful.

I lied. There was a part of me that wanted to know if kissing Little Bug and Little Bro's heads felt like warm peaches. I hope their birth mothers were able to have that experience for themselves.

I wanted to write about my long, honest, candid talks with my sister….the one who was never supposed to be my confidant. The relief that comes with knowing one other person in the world who is dealing with many of the exact same issues as you are…What a wonderful life surprise.

I wanted to write about getting my nephew addicted to Pororo and my little sister addicted to Kdramas. I'm not sure why that brings me such amusement.

I wanted to write about family and love and friendship and life, but I just don't have the words.

Perhaps my kid needs to puke again to break this writer's block.