Adoptivus: The Light of My Life

14 hours after our feet left our hometown ground, we landed in Seoul, South Korea. It was twilight as we flew in. We could see a lot of water and some green hills, but everything was this hazy yellow. It felt very "right" to me that it looked this way, although I can't pinpoint why.

Stepping off the plane was less exciting than I thought it would be. I imagined bursting off the plane with this crazy energy, suddenly connected to my son by solid ground.

And I was excited, but not in a crazy way. More in a sleep deprived way.

The Incheon airport is probably very large, but it felt really small to me. Honestly, both times I was there my mind was sleep-deprived and a million miles away, so I consider it a victory that I remember anything at all. We waited around one carousel that felt like the only one in the whole airport, although I am sure this was not true. We finally got our luggage (that was quite wet on the outside from spending the trip with the mud-dragged, drenched luggage of our companions). My most vivid emotion from that entire evening is simple relief that our luggage made it.

It was really hard for me to perk up.

We took a hotel bus from the airport to our hotel, which is about an hour away. Playing on an old TV was a Korean game show and that background noise was the soundtrack to our introduction to Seoul.

The drive is a lot like the country. Industrial turns to rural nature turns to beautiful metropolitan city.

I love city lights; I always have. As a child, I would strain my neck for the first glimpse of a big city at night and it would give me this jolt. So much beauty. So much possibility.

Seeing Seoul loom ahead of us was exhilarating. I tried to take pictures; I tried to take video, but in the end, I put the camera away and just took it all in. Each light. Each building. Each bit of art. Each large dark patch of water breaking up the lights and spreading the city out as far as I could see. In that moment, it was the best, most brightest skyline I had ever seen.

The city of my light.

There is no other way I would have wanted to be introduced to Seoul.

Adoptivus: The Flood

I've dorkily started a personal celebration called "Adoptivus" that leads up to Family Day. The only person who celebrates it is me, but I love reminiscing about that amazing and surreal time in our lives.

Where do I get to have my personal celebration? On my blournal! I thought it would be fun to preserve one memory from each of our days, something we hadn't blogged about or put in a video diary.

On September 13, 2008, Appa and I "woke up" (I use the term loosely because I remember getting very little sleep) to a torrential rainstorm. I hate flying and usually am an internal mess before flights, but I was so keyed up I barely cared about the rain. We had planned to get there 3 hours early....plenty of time.

It was clear before we even got out of our neighborhood that this was no ordinary storm. Water was pooling in the roadways. Less than a mile from our house a major road was already flooded and closed.

What did I do? I whipped out my camera and started taking pictures for the novelty of it all. Nothing was going to rain on this almost-a-mama's airport parade!

Then the radio announced that our major airport was flooding and closed. Even the off ramps from the interstate were closing.

CLOSED. As in, we could not get within a mile of the place.

Oh, flights were still leaving, especially the international ones, but unless you were already there....there was no way for you to get in.

The next 2 HOURS were a navigational feat to behold. Appa's aunt was getting on and off any open ramp she could just to keep us circling in the vicinity of the airport. We had our laptop open and people on the phone trying to figure out mass transit ways for us to get into the airport (those were all closed, too).

The whole time the Korean Air representative kept telling us that the plane would have to take off due to international regulations. Hell, it was even on time.

I went into shock. White lips and nauseous and all.

Oh, and I made a video diary to show the seriousness of the situation, because it totally made sense to do at the time, and Appa wanted me to stop whimpering in the back seat.

Then I got frantic.

And I did not video diary this part.

We started seeing people dragging their luggage through the pouring rain and muddy fields to the terminals. That looked like a fantastic idea to me, and I was loud and insistent that we get out of the van and start trudging the mile through the rain and mud.

Rain was not going to stop me from getting to my baby.

At the last minute, right before Appa and I were going to go for it, his aunt spied a frontage road that seemed passable and wasn't being guarded by cops. That road took us right up to the international terminal, where, surprise, surprise, there was no traffic. We checked in and made it to our gates only slightly damp and with 20 minutes to spare before the flight took off.

Just 8 minutes late.

Many of the people on the plane were soaked to the bone from their trudge through the mud and the plane was only half full because of all the people who could not make it into the airport. As we taxied down the runaway, a huge lake of water sprayed next to us, and I finally started crashing out of the adrenaline into a heap of messy laughter.

Appa and I simply sat and laughed at the remarkable, amazing, and totally surreal experience we found ourselves in.

Freak flooding. Major overseas travel. No sleep. Teal everything. Baby.

Baby.

Baby.

Baby.

Happy Trails

Appa and I love to travel. We're not crazy travelers, by any means, but between having most of our family and friends live on the other side of the country, having a fondness for teal blue water, and having children born in a country across the world, we've developed into a couple who isn't afraid to book a flight and GO somewhere, even just for a weekend.

When Little Bug came home, I wondered how that part of our life would change. Ironically, for all our traveling, we NEVER travel for major holidays. It seems like most families with kid almost exclusively plan travel around those times. We decided that as hard as it would be, we would not limit ourselves to Turkey-Time in Spudland. Both Grandmas probably hate this about us.

And we've done it. Little Bug has dipped his toes in both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. He's seen mountains and plains. He's been kissed by showgirls and winked at by Lady Liberty. We've continued to spend time with family and friends and enabled our child to develop a healthy love for those people...and for traveling.

I want our children to grow up with an appreciation that memories matter, family matters, friends matter. I want them to see the world, even and including their country, and to be blunt, I want to keep living my life and making my own memories and cultivating my own relationships.

Does it suck teaching them this lesson at such a young age? Heck yes. It's a bitter pill to swallow when you pay full price for things your half-sized human will barely use (hello, second airline seat) and traveling with said half-sized humans is less fun than it is stressful. But it's so worth it when you are finally in the moment.

Today we booked a trip to the happiest place on earth for a couple months from now. It's a trip that is solely for Little Bug, with absolutely zero agenda for Appa and I. It was a spur of the moment thing, but I'm so looking forward to hoofing if around and around and around and around just for my little baby's enjoyment. It will, barring any major life events like weddings or funerals, be our last plane ride before we board the pretty teal one that will take us across the world.

I'm really excited to give this to our son, even if he won't remember much of it.

With that being said, we've been traveling a lot lately. Too much, in my opinion. We already canceled one trip this month and just canceled one for this weekend. Honestly, I am relieved. We need a weekend of pajamas and home-cooked food and lounging. The only traveling we'll be doing is to the video store.

Traveling is good, but home is good, too.

Coming Out of the Closet

I . like . cosleeping .

I spend 3 nights a week without my husband, and the honest truth is my perfect little hot pretzel stick son is a fantastic spooner. Most of the time, I really enjoy having him share my bed with me. I absolutely cherish the time I get in the morning when he is still nuzzled up to me while I watch him sleep.

However, I've determined that, for our family and my son, it's not the healthiest choice, physically or emotionally. So, starting next Monday, after our last vacation for a while is finally complete, I'm going to be retraining all three of us away from cosleeping.

Appa is not happy about it, I'm a little bummed about it, and I can guarantee Little Bug won't be on board. But it is the right thing to do for us, and what is right isn't always what is easy.

I've started looking into sleep training books and methods and there are so many to choose from. I'm considering just blindly picking one and going with it. Seriously, I assume they all are just different methods to the same end, right?

I hate the fact that Little Bug is going to be sad and put up a good fight. I hate the fact that I'm going to be the enforcer because Appa is such a push over when it comes to this. I hate the fact that I'm going to need a lot more DDP to make it through the day. I hate the fact my little boy won't be spooning me for much longer and mumbling "choo choo" in my ear.

But I love the fact that my family is growing and changing and that this is in preparation for one son to grow up a little so our next son can assume his position as our baby.

Shoes Enshrined

Yesterday the decision was made that Little Bug would never wear his big braces again. Sure, he'll eventually have small inserts, but those braces that were casually thrown on our couch a couple days ago will never be placed on his feet again. This morning I put normal shoes (in his actual shoe size) and socks on his feet, and he walked out the door like any other kid in the world.

So normal.

It was weird.

Is it wrong of me to want some sort of way to mark this moment? Is it weird I have this urge to throw a party or burn the braces in some celebratory bonfire while people dance around and chant or enshrine them in some glass case with a little plaque?

It just seems so anticlimactic to pick the braces up from the couch and store them away forever like that HUGE part of our lives was just a discarded toy nobody wants to play with anymore. As much as I would like to donate them, I'm not sure I can part with them, either.

Those braces have defined so much of who Little Bug was as a child and who I was as a mother and who we were as a family. They have been a blessing and a curse and essential to the last 1.5 years of our lives.

Am I being dramatic, sure, but the fact is, I'm just a little overwhelmed by how quick and unexpected this all happened. Even good changes still require a little processing time....

...and perhaps a bonfire chanting session.

Here's a Tip

On Friday morning I got on a 6 am flight with my 2.5 year old son. I was running on about 3 hours of sleep, but I had my act together.

Snacks, check.
New toys to stagger as distractions, check.
Favorite books, check.
Extra seat, check.

But let me repeat, 6 am flight, one parent (who hates flying), 2.5 year old child.

Little Bug was, I'll admit, whiny. BUT, in the grand scheme of aggravating baby/plane experiences, this was nothing. His whining was intermittent and not very loud. I was doing a diligent job keeping him from standing on the seats or bothering anyone else.

Apparently I do a crappy job.

About 30 minutes into the flight the woman behind me said, very loudly, "Excuse me, is he going to take a nap sometime soon? I was hoping to get some sleep on this flight."

I was blown away. Her tone was completely hostile and I was mortified, on top of already being frustrated with my kid on my own. I stammered an profuse and humble apology.

Apparently I do a crappy job at apologizing, too.

She went on to ask if I had any medication I could give him (I had heard her telling a stranger before the flight started that she always medicated her step kids and never once had them bother other people on the flight) and told me "he hasn't stopped talking since we stepped on board."

Let's recap.

6 am flight, one parent (who hates flying), 2.5 year old child (in speech therapy).

Instead of the second, even more mortified apology, I should have said, "F You, lady."

But I didn't. Instead, I apologized a couple more times and turned around and burst into quiet tears. And I cried, on and off depending on Little Bug's volume level (which, for the record, was never really loud, but pretty consistent for the 4-hour flight). The mean woman drank three mini bottles of vodka (recap: 6 am flight) and made sure everyone knew it was because she was being driven to drink.

Here's the thing. I HATE imposing on others. I get that little kids can be annoying. I try my very hardest to make sure my family isn't causing other people discomfort. I was alone and trying SO hard. This woman's comments, especially so freaking early into the flight, terrified me. And truly, my kid wasn't that annoying to anyone but myself.

When the flight ended the woman told me "Honey, I'm sorry. I am just really tired. You're a great mom and didn't lose your cool the whole flight."

I just stared at her and gave a mumbled thanks. What did she expect me to do? Scream at him? Drink myself into a stupor. Give up and let him throw stuff at her (as tempting as that was).

Yes, I am a good mom, and I worked hard and did a really good job on that flight. It wasn't easy or fun, but I am proud of the way I handled it. I did not, however, need her to tell me that.

Little Bug wasn't the only one on that flight who needs to learn to keep their mouth shut.

This is the Moment

Sometimes a moment hits me square in the face, and I have this intense need to preserve it.

Last night Little Bug was taking a bath ("bubba baff", a two-word combo with some hard sounds that I am ridiculously proud of). It was past his bedtime, and I was anxious to get him to sleep. I wasn't completely, totally, 100% in the moment.

Little Bug has a nasty new trick where he likes to turn the faucet on and off. We're being very strict about this for a number of boundary and water temperature safety reasons, but my boy is stubborn and patient, making bath time one of vigilance and lameness on my part. Usually he gets his little fingers onto the faucet handle but is denied turning it. Sadness ensues. Regroup. Repeat attack.

Last night, after about 5 minutes of this dance (and after I had turned the water off for good), he finally found a moment of my weakness and quick as a flash, turned the faucet on.

Quick as it happened, I turned it off to preserve the boundary, but Little Bug, oh my baby boy......

The moment the water turned on he reeled back in total stunned elation. He let out this CRAZY triumphant laugh that was a mix between a surprised yelp and a victorious battle cry. The sound was one of the most hilarious things I have ever heard.

As I ducked my head in my shoulder to hid my laughter from a "should-be-getting-a-stern-looking-at Little Bug" all I could think was

This is the moment I want to blournal.