Hung with Care

We're in full holiday swing in our home, but with that has come some unexpected feelings. I don't want to belabor the point, which is probably why I haven't felt like blournaling lately, but the fact is, I've been a bit blue this holiday.

I honestly (naively) wasn't expecting to be so sad. I've really felt at peace during the wait, but for some reason, as soon as the decorations came out, my heart started to hurt. But, I've continued to celebrate our growing family with joy, and I am trying exceptionally hard not to let my sadness affect Little Bug's holiday joy (I'll leave that to his nemesis, Santa Claus). The stockings are hung with care, including one for our sweet big star that will be filled Christmas morning with the things that will be sent in his next care package.

Usually looking at those stockings makes me excited, thrilled, grateful; but sometimes, especially in the evenings when I'm the only one up (like now), the sadness comes back.

So that's where I am at....exactly where every mama in my position is this holiday season. I don't know why I thought I would be different, why it would affect me less.

But it has. And it will pass.

The Cool Kid

Little Bug has taken to choosing an item each morning to bring to school to show his teacher. Usually it's a raggie or his ferret ball, but today it was his train book, a prized possession of his. He proudly walked it the entire way into school, clutching the over sized book with both his hands (not an easy feat even now for my little guy), and showed it to his teacher in the hall, who ohhhed and awwed enough to make Little Bug drunk on joy to be sharing and praised.

We're not supposed to bring toys from home into school because kids fight over them, but I allowed Little Bug to bring the book into his classroom to show his friends. Little Bug is fiercely protective over this book, but he held it out in front of him like something out of the Lion King, proudly showing the book to all his friends. The clustered around him (including the boys who like to exclude Little Bug), and Little Bug sat the book on the table so everyone could see.

God, I wish I had a camera in that moment.

It's a rare sight for me to see Little Bug truly, truly, truly interacting with a larger group of kids in such a positive way for an extended period of time (and I think it happens more often than I think, I just don't get to see it), but there he was, with friends clustered tight around him on other side as he turned the pages of this train book. They all exclaimed over the pictures, pointing and laughing. Little Bug looked up at me and met my eye for just a moment, with the most genuine, happy smile on his face.

For that one moment, he was the.coolest.kid. in that room.

One Full Inbox

Yes, those frames I cried over last night are empty.

But today my inbox was not. It probably won't be empty for a while.

I am, without a doubt, the luckiest mama to ever cry over empty frames. That whole closing doors and opening windows business...so true.

Two Empty Frames

Tonight after putting Little Bug to bed, Appa and I got all our Christmas decorations out to officially start our holiday season. I adore decorating for the holidays and have an elaborate ritual and order for our Christmas tree ornaments, which Appa patiently sits through while I bask in memories and tradition. I love him for that.

But tonight, after the tree was trimmed, I pulled out a grocery bag from one of our boxes and tears immediately sprung to my eyes. Tear I haven't shed in months.

Little Bro tears.

In my hands were two frames I had purchased last year with the total expectation that this Christmas they would be filled with a more crowded family picture and Little Bro's first picture with Santa (with us). Appa and I spent a great deal of time last year talking about how that would be our last holiday with just one son.

And it was, sort of.

I don't fault myself for the expectations of this mistake. We never could have predicted our acceptance would go to Korea so late in the year, and we never could have predicted a year-long wait to travel....and I never would have predicted both.

So instead of telling myself that I had dug my own emotional grave, I allowed myself some tears as I held those empty frames before wrapping them back up and packing them away.

Next year they will be filled.

And this year, just as Appa and I imagined, we are celebrating the holidays as the parents of two boys. We have monogrammed stockings hung for two boys and yearly ornaments nestled in the tree for two boys. Our holidays cards have the two cutest kids you will ever see gracing the inside. Our lives are so much different this year than they were last year, due in large part to a little boy who will be home for Christmas...next year.

And that makes me joyful.

Love is

Love is doing something you hate for hours and hours and hours to bring joy to your 3 year old's face.

Love is also proving your husband wrong.

Their Day

Today is my son's 3rd birthday. I'm so happy to be able to celebrate this milestone with him, proud to my core of the accomplishments he has made in the last year(s), and awed by the sweet soul he has become. It's his day, and I am blessed and humbled to be able to celebrate it with him.

But it's also her day. His birth mother, first mother, or, as I have taken to calling her in my head, just his mother, a title I can share with her without fear or guilt.

Today, 3 years ago, she gave birth to a baby boy who she carried in her body for 9 months. A baby she bonded with, loved, and cared for as he grew within her. A baby she was committed to protecting from as much of the ugly in the world as she could, even at her own expense. A baby that she loved.

For me, celebrating Little Bug's birthday is about celebrating his life, his growth, his spirit. For her, today is about the one day she had with her child, this unchanging moment in time. Only she knows what it felt like to bring him into the world, to hear the first breaths and cries of this amazing boy. The memories of his first moments are hers alone; his foster mother and I will never have those, can never share those.

Today is her and Little Bug's day.

I'm sure the loss she endures daily is more painful on this day, more raw, more heartbreaking, but I hope that she can find some peace. Peace that, although she might not know the particulars right now, her son is happy and healthy and loved. I hope that although she might not publicly share her observance of this day, someone will do something kind for her, brighten her day in some way. I hope she can be happy on this day.

So today, as I wish our son a happy birthday, I'm also wishing her a happy birth day.

911, What is Your Emergancy

Calling 911 is not the way you want to start a morning.

At 4:45 this morning, I was woken up by a loud crash and shattering glass which set off our home alarm. Appa is away, so it was just me and Little Bug. Within seconds, I was out of bed and calling 911.

Extreme, perhaps. But I knew if someone was in our home breaking stuff and I confronted them, chances are they wouldn't allow me to take a moment to head back to my room, lock the door, and call 911.

Turns out, not confronting a possible intruder is something the 911 dispatch agreed with, especially since I was alone with a child. So I waited in my room with the door locked as the cops sped toward my house.

In what I thought was a rational moment, but was probably not that smart considering I was going against the dispatcher's orders, I eventually tiptoed out of my room and peeked around our hallway to our main floor, ready to scream "I'VE CALLED THE COPS, A-HOLE."

The reality.......

.....a mouse had knocked over a bunch of glass jars of pasta sauces and canned goods from our pantry, spilling them all over our tile floor. The loud crash triggered our alarm (rightly so).

I was super embarrassed and tried to beg off the cops coming, but it turns out they have to come check things like this out, just in case someone was holding a gun to my head as I made up a story about a rouge mouse with a penchant for tomato basil sauce.

Fair enough, I guess.

So the cops came and checked our whole house for any sign of intruders. There were none. I went back to sleep sheepishly.

And that's hopefully the last time I have to call 911.