Bee Bim My Head

This week things finally started moving again in the adoption world….things that actually impact Little Bro’s time lines. The door that has been shut since April is finally creaking open. It’s been so long since it closed that I find myself surprised to see it actually opening again (not that I ever thought it wouldn’t).

And it’s driving me to distraction.

Heaven forbid I attempt to work this week, even though we are chasing a big print deadline and I have hundreds of pages left to proof. Heaven forbid I be required to do anything that forces me away from the computer for more than a few hours….what if someone else hears something about anything!?!

Besides the cautious but genuine interest in how the process in Korea plays out over the next few weeks (and I know I do it to myself by getting invested in message boards), we recently heard that our agency is going to be getting a real update on Little Bro soon. One with development information and medical information and all sorts of stuff that actually makes a difference in how we go about preparing his transition (because how many teeth he has really doesn’t). For the record, we’re not worried about him, nor do we think that anything is amiss, but the last time we officially heard anything more than what pictures can tell us was in April 2010…when he was 9 months old. He’s 18 months old now, so it’s be nice to get a check in.

I have no idea when this information will come to me. I don't know if it will be a week or a month. It could be either. I'm prepared for either.

But one thing I have learned about myself is that I can be very patient when I have low expectations, but when I have high expectations (for example, when I know I am going to be getting some information), I'm about as patient as Little Bug is when he wants his blasted motorized train to "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

Poor, patient Appa. He's living in a house full of lunatics.

So I sit this afternoon. Unable to really commit to work or whatever when my head is mushing around with excitement and impatience. The high will wear off soon enough. The information will either come quickly or it won't, either way I'll get over it. The EP situation will lull for another month. My proofs will get done....

And someday none of this will matter.

Except for the proofs, of course. As good as I am getting at being a crazy time lines stalker, I'd like to keep my day job.

You Kiss Your Mama With that Mowff?

My son is pretty delayed in his speech, and what he can say is often only intelligible to his nearest and dearest....at least accurately intelligible. But he is in a vocab explosion right now!

Take for example the word "shirt." Little Bug now says "shirt" a lot. He is big into identifying things all over the body, which is AWESOME and not something I will stifle, even in public.

Even though he can't pronounce the "r" sound............

And, as full disclosure, I did happen to do something recently and yelled out "SHOOT."

Little Bug also changes a lot of "oo" sounds to an "i" sound.

Please, no one tell him to "tuck" something.

A Selfless Love

Little Bug's foster family has always been a big presence in our lives. We got the unique chance to spend a significant amount of time with them while we were in Korea, not just interacting with Little Bug, but together as adults. I'll never forget sitting on the floor as our social worker translated all the things the foster family had brought and made for our son, sobbing as she pulled out a little white baby gown, mits, and socks tied with a green bow that she told us was the outfit he had come to them in, lovingly preserved. A tangible symbol of how much he was loved and cherished from the moment he entered their home. Little Bug's foster mother gave me (another) tissue and grabbed my hand, holding it tightly as our hearts both broke and rejoiced. That was the moment when I knew this woman and her family were going to be part of our lives forever.

Since then we have shared pictures and e-mails and gifts and messages. They've cheered Little Bug on through all this therapy, sending messages of encouragement and pride. They've even met Little Bro (in passing at the agency)! We've had a chance to see and share the joys their family has continued to experience.

They are, in every way but blood (and that seems so insignificant anyway), family to us.

Last weekend they sent us a video that was aired on Korean television promoting fostering. It was a "Day in the Life" video of their family. Appa, Little Bug, and I excitedly watched it over breakfast.

Within the first 2 minutes tears were rolling down my face. It was so overwhelming to see Little Bug's first home "in action" instead of just in pictures. To recognize the toys and clothes and pillows and couches and green tub from his pictures. To see the outside of the building I have always wondered about.

Within 5 minutes I was openly crying. Pictures of Little Bug were popping up all over the place, both as a focus and in the background. It was clear that his family still had pictures of him (and their other babies) all over their home. Especially touching were the number of pictures from our home...proving that their love and interest didn't end the day he left them.

Within 7 minutes, around the point where the video showed a picture book I had sent as a gift, I was trying hard to stifle the sobs that were threatening. Little Bug was starting to look at me oddly.

At 10 minutes, when the video ended, I excused myself and went and sat on my bathroom floor and sobbed, racking sobs that shook my body. It was overwhelming to see the places and people that made up so much of the first year of my son's life, but to see the continued heartbreak these people who I love face willingly, over and over, was too much for me to bear that morning.

It was inspiring and terribly sad and an amazing gift.

It also opened up a raw nerve that has been tingling for months, ever since Little Bro's foster family send us their gift of pictures. I've poured over those pictures and videos, and while I love the ones of Little Bro, the ones that speak most to me are the (hundreds) family candids. The love Little Bro's foster family feels for him as a son is evident....and very reminiscent of Little Bug's foster family. Watching this video, I saw Little Bro's foster mother's daily life, her commitment and total devotion to this little boy she knows she has to say good bye to. And she does it anyway.

And it kills me to know what's coming for her. Not only the moment of the goodbye, but the weeks and months after. It's been making me ill for months when I think about it.

There's nothing I can do about it, really. I can't stop the pain from coming, but I can make sure she never has to feel the pain of the unknown once he leaves her. This quote from Little Bug's foster mother comes to mind:

"I always speak with my husband that being a foster mom is a blessing to me. ...One day i hope that I can meet these children again. Because I want to say to them, "Thank you for growing up well.""

In just a few+ months, she will finally get her first chance to see one of her babies again when we bring Little Bug back to Korea. I'm so excited about that. Although continuing a relationship with my sons' foster families is important for them, it's equally as important as a way to honor these families and the sacrifice they have made.

And, quite simply, I love them, and I want them to know that.

My One and Only Giveaway

I truly try to keep this blog more of a blournal and less of a "blog," but occasionally I feel compelled to use it for less blournaly purposes. Tonight is one of them. Stick with me, to see how you can win something from the awesome Kimchi Keepsakes and these gems.

My friend, Tracy, needs help. Or more accurately, my friend Tracy needs help helping her daughter. You can read her story here, but the short version is Tracy and her family have scrapped and saved and cooked and fund-raised and sacrificed to earn every penny they need to adopt a 3-year-old girl with significant special needs from Korea (a fellow RainbowKid like my Little Bro). A little girl who was just months away from being doomed for a group home. A little girl who needs someone in her corner for the rest of her life. A little girl that most of us could not be brave or strong enough to raise. A girl they desperately have fought for and love with all their hearts. A girl they are naming Emi Faith.

Because of Emi's age and special needs, the agency has told Tracy she cannot travel alone; however, her family cannot fund three tickets (Tracy, Emi, and someone else). Tracy's husband has to stay home to attend to the needs of one of their other children. Tracy hasn't been able to find anyone else who can fund their own ticket and take the full week out of their lives to travel over to help her. She had someone who can travel, but can't afford the ticket. Tracy is traveling in 4 weeks and has no idea how someone is going to be able to come with her. In case you are curious, a ticket is around $1200.

A movement in the forums has been started to help fund a companion ticket. It is as simple as going to her blog and donating whatever strikes your heart by using her secure Donate button. Don't get me wrong, I know how money is for everyone right now. It's right after the holidays, and many people reading this blog are probably saving for their own adoption expenses. But I also know that five or ten people donating a small amount can equal something substantial for Tracy.

For my one and only giveaway, I want to help Tracy by giving away an awesome set of Uncle Goose Korean Character Blocks

AND something of the winner's choice from Kimchi Keepsakes. Perhaps a buckwheat travel pillow for you or your little one; an apron for your budding chef, a custom pendant, or whatever strikes your fancy. I'll draw the winners on Sunday, January 16, which marks 11 months since they committed to adopt Miss Emi.

I've got a couple ways for you to get entered:

1. Go to Tracy's blog and donate through her button (it would be anonymous to everyone but you and Tracy), come back and leave a message here letting me know you donated (I moderate comments, so let me know if you would like me to keep your comment private). I don't care how much you donate and please don't tell me. Even the most humble of donations matter. Truly, they do. I'll give you one entry into the drawing. AND, AS A BONUS, ENTER THE WORDS "DONATION MATCH-LADYBUG" AND A WONDERFUL MAMA WILL MATCH YOUR DONATION!
   
2. Second, if you post something about Tracy's story on your blog, come back and leave me a message, and I will enter you a second time. Same with Facebook or Twitter. Each notation will be one entry. (But please, don't link this blog on Twitter directly...Twitter still creeps me out a bit.)
3. Third, if someone that hasn't already entered via this blog post leaves a note on your blog saying they also donated, I'll give you FIVE entries. (a la, a donation spurred by your post and not mine.)

You don't have to link back to this blog at all. I'm not looking for followers here....I'm looking for donation there. Tell Tracy's story in your own words or link to mine...it makes no difference to me.

But it will make a BIG difference to her. This sweet little girl and this brave mama deserve all the support we can give them.

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Last night my son was wired in a great way (as best as a child can be wired at bedtime). He was being silly and happy and seriously enjoying being alive. Normally I attempt to squash bedtime sillies to preserve our calm rainbows/unicorns/soft puppies bedtime routine, but last night I couldn't stand to shut him down. He was too happy, and it was infectious.

Seriously, sometimes you have to screw the sleep training ideas.

As I tried to fit Little Bug into his jammies, he stood up on his bed and started jumping fast and hard while holding my hands. (Again, normally something I don't allow, but our calm zone was already demolished at that point.) He would jump a few times while chanting something and then fall down in a heap of laughter, only to get back up and do it again. It took me a couple goes to realize what he was doing.


Ashes, ashes, we all fall doooooooooown.

My baby was singing. A song that he was pulling the words and tune from memory. Yes, the words were in his own special garble, but they were as fully formed as he could get and very intentional. The tune was spot on.

It was so developmentally appropriate that it made my heart nearly burst.

Little Bug has always loved music. Since the moment he was born, music has been his trigger of joy and peace. I love the fact that he is finally able to participate in the music, not just experience it.

Making a Home in 2011

I'm not being dramatic when I admit that I kind of suck at being a homemaker. Despite being raised by a wonderful stay-at-home-mom who cooked every night and made our Halloween costumes; having a sister who feels guilty if her floors are not spotless and actually studies a homemaker's guide that was published at the turn of the century; and being raised in a culture where every Tuesday night from ages 12-18 I spent an hour or two in an organized class learning some sort of housekeeping skill like ironing dress shirts, sewing, scrap booking, knitting, and cooking; I am a horrible homemaker.

Appa totally got hoodwinked when he signed up for this domestic goddess.

I don't have good cleaning skills. I'm like a binge and purge cleaner. Dishes will sometimes sit in my sink for days or my dust bunnies will earn the right to register to vote in their corner precincts, but when I do clean, I am all over every little detail, from the baseboards to the inside of the stove vent. That just doesn't happen very often, and even less now that Little Bug is around. I'm a good, but inconsistent cleaner.

Last year I made a lot of New Year's resolutions that I thought were simple and manageable. Turns out, my single resolution should have been to keep my resolutions. I made decent progress on about half my goals (and considering that I am typing this while drinking a DDP, failed miserably with others).

This year I decided to try a new approach.

New Month Resolutions.

My theme for the year will be, to steal a phrase from a brilliant friend of mine, home care. Each month I will select a very small detail of home care that I can focus on. Conventional wisdom and inspirational posters tell me that 21 days will be all I need to make that small change in home care a habit.

My NMRs will be small because I know myself, and lofty goals just aren't working for this working mama. I'm still trying to think about which habit I will undertake for January, but I plan to document it on my blournal so I can hold myself accountable.

I'll tell you what it won't be....this giving up DDP completely crazy talk.

Baby Bird

When I am sleepy I either get sassy or sappy. Last night it was sappy.

As I laid in bed last night with Little Bug (after he had ended up back in our bed) nestled in between Appa and I, I got to thinking about nests.

Yes, like a bird's nest. Because when I am sleepy and sassy or sappy, I am also mildly delusional.

Little Bug is the sweetest, most horrible bed mate. He flips and turns and burrows into you. He wants nothing more than to be cuddled up against you and will usually push Appa off the bed at night from attempting to get closer and closer to him. Last night, though, he seemed pretty peaceful in his little dinosaur jammies. He alternated between spooning me while his hand rested on his dada and resting his head in the crook of Appa's arm while his little toes burrowed into my side.

In my sleepy/sappy state I imagined him protected safely in a little nest we had made for him, protected from cold and monsters and everything else in the world. Then I started thinking about all the other times I make a "nest" for him. The way I wrap my arms around him as he sits in my lap, the way his beloved raggies nest around him each night as he sleeps, each one touching some part of his face or hands or feet. The whole thing seemed so warm and cozy and idealic. Such a lovely thing for a child to experience.

Such a lovely thing for me to experience him experiencing.

I love being a mama bird.