A little spotted blanket with an elephant and a bird, Part II

I'm very lucky.

In the world of BFFs, I'm really lucky to actually have a best friend. I don't use that term lightly either. My best friend and I have been besties for going on 13 years. Of those years, we have lived in the same city for just three of them, but our friendship has withstood time and distance, and I'm not naive enough to think that is a common thing. Besides my family and Appa, Ali(ce) is the most constant person in my life...she was there when I first spoke to Appa after all. We've shared everything from high school firsts and lasts (she started dating her husband, my childhood friend and debate partner, the same weekend I started dating Appa) to college firsts and lasts, to weddings and babies, and girls-only trips. She was the one person I talked to right before I went to meet Little Bug and my life changed forever. She stood next to me at every major event in my life, from my graduation to my wedding to the baptism of my child. If she wasn't about to pop out a little infant, she would be there with me in Korea next year when I meet Little Bro. She knows where I come from and where I am going. She knows my family and my friends and my memories. It's rare to find someone who knows you that well.

All this is especially special since Ali(ce) and I live across the country from each other. Way across the country from each other.

One thing that seems to particularly amuse us and those who know us is what we long ago deemed our "freaky mind connection." It began with our uncanny similar tastes in music and clothing and books. We would often find ourselves buying the same clothing or shoes even though we lived in different states. We would send each other the same book or music recommendations and type the same things at the same time on chats. The instances are too numerous to recount or even remember, and it often leaves our husbands shaking their heads.

However, when Ali(ce) was preparing for the birth of her first daughter, our connection kicked it up another notch. I randomly found this little dress that I just KNEW I had to buy for her. As is common for us, I just randomly dropped it in the mail without alerting her first.

This is the e-mail I got a few days later:
"Okay, this is really starting to get creepy! I got your package yesterday (and my mom got your Christmas card, she thinks it is so nice of you to remember them) and I was too curious to wait so I opened the present for the baby because you had said it was just so cute. I could not believe my eyes - seriously. I was temporarily in shock! It is the exact outfit I had picked out about two months ago! Just before we found out for sure that the baby is a girl we were at Target looking for work pants for BDawg and I saw that exact dress. I loved it so I picked it up and carried it around with me for like 20 minutes telling BDawg how I wanted to buy it. He said, "But what if it's a boy?" I said I would just bring it back then. But he said no, I had to wait. So I put the dress back. Then when I did find out it was a girl I went back to get it and they were all out!!! I had been looking for it ever since! So I could not believe it when I opened the box! I absolutely love it!!! I can't wait to dress her up in it! So yeah, our ability to live clear across the country from each other and still always buy the exact same thing is kinda weird - very cool, but just a little weird."

Fast forward years of silly little "freaky mind connection" instances to today. Ali(ce) sent me a gchat talking about her recent shopping spree for her new daughter she is expecting next month and wrote

"I even bought this little blanket I found that I fell in love with. It has polka-dots and a little elephant."

My mouth dropped. Could it have been this?

The answer is yes, it was. And that made my day, possibly my week.

She's my "real-life Alice".

PS: she does not actually call her husband "BDawg."

Here Baby Baby

I've been in a funk the last few days, and I finally figured out why.

I miss my baby.

Although I am not broadcasting this far and wide, this blog is technically anonymous and Appa alluded to it on our family blog, so I don't mind saying that I happen to be alone this week. Appa had some time off so he took Little Bug to visit with some extended family in another state. I'm very happy for them, and they seem to be having a nice time.

They've been gone since Sunday morning and won't be back for a few more days…shattering my previous 48-hours-without-Little Bug record. I was actually really looking forward to some "me time," and I am working on a home project that would be exceptionally hard to do with Little Bug home and in need of "Mama time." I've been staying up late to watch movies and read and not eating my veggies and might even jump on my bed later. It's been great.

Yet, I ache to see my baby. I'm watching old videos on my blog just to hear his voice, staring at pictures to enjoy his smile, and generally mopping around like someone just took my favorite shiny toy. I can't focus as well at work because I am constantly e-mailing Appa to get the play-by-play of Little Bug's day. Appa posted a little video last night, which I have watched more times than anyone should watch a blog video (and have a new mantra, "Pull UP his pants!").

This isn't just a matter of missing Little Bug. I miss new episodes of The OC and Nerd Blizzards at Dairy Queen.

No, I don't just miss my child, I crave him, and I cannot wait until he is home.

My Webafesto

Disclaimer: If you are reading this, there is a 99.99999% chance that I am not talking about you. I'm nervous about posting it, but it's is where my head is at this morning.

Sometimes you have to clean out your closet, or your fridge, or your car, etc., and get all the old, stale, nasty stuff you don't use and don't need out of your daily life.

Lately I have been doing that with less tangible things (and not just because I hate cleaning my car and am avoiding it). The internet is an amazing thing and connects me to people and things and ideas in ways that have enriched my life. When I moved to a new state 2 years ago and was searching for a job and adjusting to my husband's new job demands, an internet book club provided me with my only outlet for making friends. Some of those friends transcended from "internet friends" to "local [insert book club name here] friends" and a smaller portion became just "dear friends" who are in my life and the lives of my husband and son (the ultimate mark of acceptance from me) for multiple reasons.

By that same token, I have spent the last year splashing around in the world of adoption blogs and boards and listserves. Again, I've made "adoption bloggy friend," some of who transitioned into "local adoption friends," and some who have even just become "friends who happen to have/are also adopted from Korea." More and more of the people I met in the adoption community are becoming wonderful friends for my family, and I love that.

I treasure all these "adoption" friendships, both the ones that I might never get to meet in real life and the ones who I meet for tea or zoo trips or a burger and apple cider ale. The support and friendship and fellowship and advice and commiseration and fan-girling is all things that make me smile and bring joy to my life. That is a good thing.

However, like that sweater you bought on clearance last summer that is taking up prime space in your closet, even though you know you will NEVER wear it again, some things in the Internet worlds I spent time in are probably outstaying their welcome and need to go.

I started by almost completely removing myself from my book club "fandom," which was taking up time in my life that I could have and should have devoted to my family. I'd made my friends and had my fun, but I was no longer getting anything of real value from the time I was devoting to those other "relationships." It hurt some people who I had chatted with online, but ultimately, those not-in-real-life relationships are meaningless compared to my real-life relationships and there are just so many hours in the day. My family and I have all benefited from this break, and those who were true friends still call me up to chat about life…not just a book series. That is real.

The issue of the Internet adoption community is a different beast and one that I am having a harder time with. I love checking blogs, and I love writing blogs, and I love chatting with other adoptive moms who I have connected with one way or the other. Unlike my above mentioned relationships, I see long-lasting value in cultivating relationships with people that I might never actually meet because the support I will need as my child grows is something only these other women can provide. So in that respect, I'm happy with my "friends" and always looking for more.

HOWEVER, I've found there are some other areas of the adoption community that are no longer for me, specifically the boards. Now, I am not judging anyone, and honestly right now, there are a lot of weird and heartbreaking and frustrating things going on in an otherwise very stable program and specifically with people who I "know" (and this is NOT directed at them, for those of you who also "know" them), but I just can't do it anymore with those nameless, faceless people.

The complaining about timeframes, the bickering about circumsion or cosleeping or baby carriers or guest house versus hotel or travel versus escorting, the minutia of the I-[insert any number of numeric combinations], VI, P3, EP and the fever pitched highs and lows that come with those daily check-up calls, and the refusal of people to accept that all adoptions are not created equal and cannot be compared apples and apples, agency to agency, Lillipie ticker to Lillipie ticker is exhausting to me.

I'm not saying people shouldn't complain, only that they should reserve their complaining for the things that really deserve to be complained about. Some people have some really legitimate sucky things happening to their adoptions right now, and I completely sympathize and understand their need to reach out for support and welcome that. But the "OMG it's been 4 weeks since whatever, and I just cannot wait anymore (even though their agency told them it would be this long or longer)" or "I wasn't informed by my SW of so and so (even though there is NO reason your SW would call you out of the blue to tell you about something that doesn't immediately affect you)" or whatever angers me. It's negativity that breeds negativity because everyone rushes to "support" by affirming the injustice of it all and how awful it is.

That's not support; that is mass hysterics and doesn't do anyone any good. Certainly not our children, the agencies, or our hearts. Especially our hearts. Yet, somehow I continue to get sucked into it. I read the threads, I read the blogs, I read the messages. I occasionally try to respond in a supportive but level-headed manner, but find that I tend to look heartless. My outlook on the adoption process (i.e., I'm not OWED anything or any specific time frame and the only thing that is constant about adoption is that you should expected the unexpected, but that at the end of it, you WILL have your child) works for me, but not for everyone and some people have or are having very different experiences than mine that I might not understand, and I need to accept that.

So I have.

I've stopped going to the most boards I find to be filled with the most mass hysteria and rumors. I have started to hold my tongue on a listserv that is home to people who I actually care about on a personal level when things get a little heated and unkind there, and I have stopped following some blogs that are filled with negativity or views on parenting/life that don't add anything of value to my own. I casually skim some of the more aggravating list serves instead of reading the actual comments and taking the time to respond.

Support for those who are in true crisis and who need prayers and good thoughts is something I will always have, but I'm honestly all our of support for the people who want to complain and stir up trouble and gossip just for something to do or because they are having a bad week. It might be selfish or egotistical of me, but the negativity certain things were bringing up in me is unnecessary negativity and not something that needs to be passed on to my son. (Did you know it is a medical fact that children can sense and absorb the mood of their parents, including depression, anger, and fear?)

I acknowledge that this post is my own little drop of negativity out into the world, but I have noticed a marked increase in my daily happiness when I don't allow myself to spend 10 minutes getting sucked into the vortex of all the things that I know are bringing my own mood down--in ALL of my Internet dealings. I now fill myself up with hope for what will be, excitement for what is, compassion for those who are hurting, brilliance and simplicity of parenting ideas and incorporating culture and book recommendations and recipes and picture after picture of pumpkin patches and Tol celebrations and silly smiles and hugs that never fail to bring a smile to my face.

So many things in life, and especially in adoption, are totally outside our control. How I choose to spend my Internet time and fill my head and heart, however, is completely in my control.

Bursting

I love the moments in life when you can physically feel yourself "bursting" with happiness. Your breath catches, your body relaxes, and you can actually feel your heart beating inside your body.

The best part about those moments is that they come on unexpectedly and often unprompted.

That's all I've got for today...but it's all I really need.

Spoiled

Before Little Bug came home, I was convinced I wouldn't spoil my child. As one of five kids with a one parent income, I didn't grow up spoiled. Comfortable, yes. Spoiled, no. I scoffed and judged other parents who clearly spoiled their kids.

I'm now trying to retrace my steps to find out where my son became spoiled. Because he is . totally . spoiled. Not materialistically...although he is actually the owner of an unholy amount of toys, clothes, and books, and is probably the definition of a spoiled child...but he could care less about any of it, so I am not counting that right now.

Little Bug throws a lot of tantrums lately. He expects his way and to get what he want when he wants it. Deviation from this lofty life-plan results in whining, crying, head banging, throwing, and the super fun "dead weight"/"stiff as a board" baby moves. This is most concerning because Little Bug still doesn't have a lot of body awareness, so sometimes his tantrums can hurt him.

I don't really blame myself for the tantrums. Appa and I haven't modeled the behavior for him (shocker), tantrums are pretty normals for toddlers, and we've been doing everything we can "by the book" to modify his behaviors through our reactions to him, keeping his safety in mind, of course.

But, so many of Little Bug's tantrums are now a direct result of not getting his way. How much of this is normal toddlerness and how much is spoiledness, I'm can't figure out. (No, neither of those are actual words.) I know part of the problem is that for a very long time, Little Bug couldn't physically do things, so we did it for him. It makes sense that he would now be confused as to why he has to walk instead of be carried or hold his own sippy cup instead of getting it poured down his throat like a little baby bird.

Occasionally the "independent" streak comes out, and he wants to do things on his own. Unfortunately, the activities he is usually interested in doing on his own include things like scaling walls, using sharp forks, going outside, playing in the street, "typing" on the computer, and diving into an empty (or full) bath.

We are trying to find this happy medium between "tough love" and forcing him to become more independent and less "spoiled," and still providing a level of reward for his hard work and continued attachment. It's a fine line that I can't fully explain. When he is crying after a hard day of walking and wants to be picked up, I feel it is best for both of us to pick him up. However, if I do, then he refuses to walk for hours after that and will tantrum if not being held. If it's raining outside or muddy and I picked him up to avoid him inevitably butt plopping at some point into the muck, he decided he should always get to be carried from the car to the door.

I guess all we can do is keep working on it. Give him his love and attention and support and push him to his limits. In the meantime, I'll just be that mama with the spoiled kid.

I guess it could be worse. I could be the Target Mom.

I Got Served and Liked It

I have this quirk where I cackle-laugh sometimes. Not like a witch, but more like Pretty Woman (always better to compare yourself to Julia Roberts than a witch). It has to be something super unexpected and exceptionally funny (to me), and I also have to be in a certain mood. But, when the stars align just so, my cackle is epic, and probably very annoying.

Tonight Little Bug was standing against my legs, demanding "UP" as he does approximately once every .5 nanoseconds. I grabbed his little hands to make him practice walking instead (because I am that mama), but Little Bug had other plans.

He started tap dancing.

Seriously. He kept moving his little feet and legs in this wild motion that was clearly his version of dancing. Every once and a while he would pause as if to expect me to show him my stuff. So, I did.

Then things got wild. There was a dance party in my dining room as Little Bug and I took turns in our little dance-off for a solid 3 or 4 minutes while Appa laughed and clapped in tune.

That tune was Little Bug's cute little giggles and my cackles--A LOT of cackles, because it was that sort of moment.

I love memories; I really do.

Let's Talk About Bodily Fluids

I've never been exceptionally good with bodily fluids…I find them pretty gross. However, it is amazing how something clicks when you have a child to take care of. Suddenly wiping away snot or drool (or even other things in the most desperate of situations) becomes a part of life. Sure, there is still that little voice in the back of your head that is quietly rocking away in the fetal position moaning in total disgust, but for the most part, it becomes automatic and barely something you think about.

I wipe drool and snot with my hands at least once every 10 minutes…usually transferring that to my own clothing if I don't have a rag handy. I've been pooped on. I've been pee-ed on from multiple directions. I've even had my son vomit directly into my mouth. (Word of advice, don't play rough and high with your baby directly after meal time…and if you do, don't laugh with your mouth open.)

Somehow, none of it is a deal breaker. It's the oddest thing.

But seriously, do try to avoid having another human being vomit in your mouth. I do not recommend it.