Breakfast with Mama

 This morning was not a good breakfast morning...or maybe it was an awesome breakfast morning.  I'm not actually sure.

It started out with two little boys refusing to eat their bacon and eggs.  That refusal turned into defiance, which somehow turned into a hysterically funny food fight.  And the laugher coming from those two little boys while throwing food was so genuine and enjoyable that I just sat there with a dumb grin on my face watching the brotherly bond between my sons practically strengthen before my eyes.

Then I realized there was food everywhere.  And my kids were throwing it.  And watching me watch them in approval (and maybe even take some pictures with my phone).  And throwing more food.

And I wondered if in this moment I was the world's coolest mom or the world's most irresponsible mom for letting my kids bond over making a giant mess of our dining room table, floors, and walls.

I didn't have too long to ponder because someone committed the ultimate sin and threw a slice of bacon on the floor. The laughter turned to anguished wails.

And the moment was over.

I think next time I'll find slightly less socially inappropriate and disgusting ways to bond, but I don't regret this morning.

Thanksgiving

Four years ago it was Thanksgiving Day.

And I was thankful.

I was thankful that my sister's first son was born, a thanksgiving baby whose traumatic but triumphant entrance into this world left us all with much to be thankful for.

I was thankful for our first home, which we had closed on just the day before.  A home whose bare walls whispered promises of the most important moments of my life I knew it would usher in.

I was thankful for family, health, love, and friendship.

I was so very thankful.

But what I didn't know, as I stood in the dark basement, phone in hand after just sharing in the raw and beautiful first moments of my sister's motherhood glory, overcome with tears of thankfulness at the fullness and beauty of life, was that there was so much more for me to be thankful for.

Like the little baby, just a few hours old, also born on my Thanksgiving just a world away, who would be one of the brightest lights of my life.

I didn't know it yet, but I was thankful for the young woman who was selfless enough to put her baby ahead of herself for 9 long months.  I was thankful for the foster family who would shortly take that baby into their home and raise him to know love and comfort and family.  I was thankful for the agency who would provide for that baby until offering us the biggest honor of our lives....to be his parents.

But most of all, I was thankful for that boy.  That tiny, soft bundle of life whose spirit could not be contained by body or mind. He's left a mark on everyone he meets. He's made the world a better place in his 4 short years on this earth, but in my world, in my life, he's rocked it to the core.  He is, quite simply, perfection, vintage 2007.  And I get the honor of being a part of that, of loving him as only a mama can.

So although his birthday doesn't always fall on Thanksgiving Day, in my heart, it will always be a day of true thanksgiving.

So very blessed. So very thankful.

I love you, Little Bug.  Happy birthday.

Puppy Love

A couple nights ago a package with two wrapped gifts came for our soon-to-be 4 year old. He and his little brother crouched excitedly on the ground as he opened the first gift, an animatronic puppy. Because their mama is super allergic to animals, this puppy (which was aptly named "Brendan" after a friend, the first time Little Bug has ever independently named a toy) is the closest thing either will get to a pet.

I moved to give Little Bug his second gift, but he refused it, over and over again. Not because he only has eyes for Brendan, but because he insisted that the second gift was Little Bro's puppy. No matter how I explained the concept of birthday presents, Little Bug adamantly believed the other box was a puppy to bring joy to his brother.

Luckily, it was smaller animatronic animal, and although slightly confused and bummed that Little Bro didn't have a puppy like Brendan, they were both thrilled with the arrangement.

So although the second gift was intended to bring Little Bug joy, it turned out that the greatest joy for him was being able to share with his little brother.

There is nothing more amazing than watching the childlike love of two little brothers.

Like a Diamond in the Sky

Little Bro and I are not cut from the same cloth. I am in uncharted waters when it comes to parenting him, not only because it is him uniquely, but because my experience with temperaments like his (namely my sister) haven't always been the easiest. I love this boy fiercely, but he has brought me to my knees daily in my quest to be a good mom for him.

I love rules. I love structure and routine and control. Little Bug spoiled me because he needs and wants all those things in a mother. And as uncool as it may seem at times, I really do think it's not a bad thing to teach and expect children early and often that following rules, even small ones, matter.

Little Bro loves independence and freedom. He loves to express emotions and explore and discover on his own terms. He also really likes control. As maddening as it can be for me at times, I also think it is very important to allow him to grow and learn in an environment that suites this level of independence and control he craves.

But what is a Mama to do when structured meets freedom, when logic meets passion, when because I said so meets screw you and your table manners, too?

Frankly, the blending isn't going as well as it should, and more evenings than not I lay in bed praying that tomorrow I'll manage to let it roll off me a little more, turn the other cheek just a little farther, whisper instead of raise my voice. Don't get me wrong, we're good, Little Bro and I, but I know I could be so much better for HIM. And I want to be.

Today I tried something new. I unruled him, in a way. Modifications to our routine and rules that I would normally never dream of allowing made their way into our day. Most notably, I gave him complete control in an area where he wants it most: food. Instead of sitting him in a chair and eventually fork feeding him every bite to get food in his belly, I let him run around our house playing while I followed him around forking bites into his mouth, ala Korean Halmoni style. And wouldn't you know, he loved it, asked for food, and ate a larger lunch than he has in a long time. From there, a day that was already going good went even better. For the first time in a long time, I can't think of a moment today where I wasn't in word and spirit the Mom I want to be.

Granted, this sort of thing can't and should not be sustained. Tomorrow he's eating lunch in his chair like he always does, but the experiment got me thinking about other ways I could modify my expectations to be a little more palatable to his desires. I expect him to meet me on my side most of the time, as it should be when a parent is teaching a child to live life, but I think I can find some instances where I can return the favor.

Little Bro is one of the coolest kids I know, and I want nothing more than to make him happy while giving him life tools. I am really grateful to have the chance to expand as a person as I grow to become the Mama he needs and deserves.

My baby Big Star...all the things I don't understand about him are the things I love the most.

Trick-or-Treat

Tonight, after the sugar rush (the pavement pounding one....not the one that was percolating in my little kids' bodies), my kids sat at the table eating dinner while watching the trick-or-treaters come to our door.

As I handed out candy to a group of princesses and ninjas, one of the older princesses (maybe 10?) looked past me to my frantically waving and seriously adorable sons. In a very conversational tone she asked me "Are you babysitting tonight?"

Seriously, well-meaning 10-year-old girl?  Are you freaking kidding me?  In our own home?

I get mistaken for the nanny about once a month, but usually it is an understandable mistake.  I live in an area with a lot of nannies and a lot of Korean families.  I have learned to be quick and cheerful and totally non-awkward when it happens because I get it.

But in my own home?  Our safe place?

My response was my trusty "Nope, they're my babies" served up with a smile and mirthful eyes.

"They don't look like you."
"Nope, I don't look like them."

Then the moment was over as the princesses and their ninjas had other homes to conquer, but it left me feeling a bit out-of-sorts.  Because it reminded me that no matter where we are, how we see ourselves is not how others see us.  Even in our own home, the place that wraps all our family magic up and keeps us safe from the world.

And I can accept that.  It's part of being special...standing out.  I just need to make sure I never lose sight of my responsibility to teach my kids that no matter where we (or more importantly, they) are singled out, our truths and reactions should be the same.

I did give that princess the crappy gobstoppers though...I won't lie.

A Pile of More

Once, back many years ago when Appa and I were dating, he mentioned that he thought it was a bit odd that my family literally dog piled on top of each other when watching movies or lounging around.  Although I had never stopped to see it that way, it was true that my family could be found on any Sunday evening watching a Disney movie while looking like some couch form of family Twister.  We'd just grown up cuddling each other (not in a creepy, call-the-cops sort of way, of course) and never stopped, and that extended to siblings.

Tonight, as I rested my head on Appa's lap while Little Bro cuddled into his lap and nestled his hands into my hair and Little Bug draped his whole body over mine and anchored himself by digging his feet under my legs, I thought of that comment Appa made so many years ago and it made me smile to see a bit of a circle start to form.

There are many things I wish for my family to be 10 years from now, but one of them is a family who will still pile on the couch to enjoy the Lion King and the comfort and love we give to each other without reservation.

Just One More

I'm not sure whether to be heartbroken at having to shut them down or proud that my boys are clever enough to know that the surest way to prolong bedtime is ask Mommy for one more bear hug.

And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.
And one more bear hug.

And just one more bear hug.