This Valentines Day ... Love Wins

 

Happy Valentines Day!  Mark surprised me by calling me at work yesterday afternoon to ask me out. :) It was our first time away together since Jhon's been home and even a short time away was nice. The kids were thrilled - mac n' cheese and chicken nuggets? Screen time on a school night! Score.  We left around 6 and they were all showered, homework done. A new record. 

We've never been really big on celebrating Valentines Day with the kids before. They get so much stuff at school and whatnot, that I usually just make pink pancakes and call it good. But we decided to do a little more this year. Mark said that he wanted them to think of it as a day to be with people you love, your family, rather than a chocolaty -romantic holiday to get all worked up about. What a great lesson from your dad. :) 

So we made some little cards with their names and hearts and (of course) glitter, let them have Pop Tarts and candy for breakfast, decorated the table with some flowers. Even this really small gesture had a big affect. They were all smiley.  Loved it.  Then I took 3 of them for their well child exams. Nothing says love like shots right? But it went okay. They were happy to head off to school to celebrate their "100th Day" and have a Valentines party in the afternoon. Fun fun. 

[My over-zealous trip to the library!]

Also, last night I finished up a book that I also wanted to mention titled, appropriately, Love Wins. I picked up this book on a total whim at the library last week. I've heard of the author, Rob Bell, since he is (was) a pretty famous pastor from our area. But we've never attended his church and (I'll admit) I was never particularly interested (in the church or the book). But I decided to give it a shot. I didn't know much about the book other than it was considered rather controversial and I heard he took a beating from a lot of Christians. 

Upon digging into the first chapter, the first thing that jumped out at me was the style. It is composed of a lot of little paragraphs, more free-flowing and conversational than books typically are. It almost read more like a sermon than a book. This turned me off at first, but once I got used to it, the style actually made for a very quick read. 

The book touches on a few hot button issues with Christianity such as heaven and hell and the traditionally accepted ways that you end up in one or the other. I hesitate to get into the content of the book too much. For one, I don't feel like being yelled at.  Two, I think it's helpful to go into it with an open mind (at least I'm glad that I did).  Here's a bit of a summary of the book that I found online though, which provides some insight into its controversial nature:

"The main issue discussed in Bell's recent interview regards Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived, in which the former pastor questioned the existence of hell and the evangelical teaching that only those who believe in Jesus Christ go to heaven."

I will say this. Regardless of what you believe - and whether you find Bell's arguments persuasive or inflammatory - its a book that just might make you think. Might make you ask questions about doctrines that have been accepted as true for hundreds of years. Bell offers Biblical support, including discussions of some very well-known parables. I have asked Mark to read it, as I think it would be a good discussion point for us, especially as we work to shape the faith-focus of our family.   

I will also say that I really liked the book. I think Bell has a knack for capturing the power, the omnipresence of God, but never minimizing His complete and utter love for us. And, as Bell himself says, "[N]one of us have cornered the market on Jesus, and none of us ever will."

 

Lent... and letting go.

Today is Ash Wednesday.  I grew up in a Catholic family and observed the Lenten season for many years. It has been awhile since I've considered myself a Catholic, but only a few years since I have stopped acknowledging the "rules" of Lent (i.e. many years of Friday tuna fish lunches, etc!).  However, today I  completely forgot it was Ash Wednesday until about an hour ago - after eating a leftover enchilada (with ground turkey).  Sigh. Ah well, pretty sure God will forgive the turkey.

But I digress.

I have been thinking about Lent more this year than I have in awhile.  Maybe it's just where I am at right now, but I know I *need* something and it must come from God. Despite knowing that, I have been struggling to get close to Him, finding excuses to make everything else the priority. As anyone could guess, that has simply caused a vicious cycle and left me feeling... just off.

So.

What better time than Lent than to take steps toward God? To stop being so off and find a way back on again.

Usually during Lent, people give up luxuries, things like sweets or social media. Some form of penitence (I've given up pop and chocolate too many times to count!). This year, I'm working on giving up control. I spoke a little about control here, and although I do want to avoid micromanaging my family, what I am speaking about now is more about more generally giving up control to God. Trying less to get my ducks in a row (or a tight military formation!) and more about trusting. Not hoarding my fears and worries, but giving them up to the only One who can really do anything about them. 

It's about giving up the ugliness inside, letting it out; instead of trying to bury it and hide it and keep it for my own. It's about not having it all together - not pretending to have it all together - and not needing to have it all together. And appreciating the many blessings I have, whether I have it all together or not!

I'm still brainstorming what this might mean for the next 40(ish) days. I expect journaling, self reflection (perhaps some here, plenty privately).  I have a few books I want to read.  And prayer.

[Side bar:  Here's a confession - I find praying really hard. I get distracted. It's always been difficult for me to imagine this direct line with God in a way that makes prayer a natural conversation. One way I want to tackle this is to commit to at least one unplugged run a week - no music, no audio book. Just my thoughts or lack thereof. I am fairly confident that I will start talking to myself, which seems a good lead in to prayer. :) End side bar]

Since February is already half over and I never actually sat down and gave myself some goals, I'm not going to. I'm going to work on this. I'm going to work on letting go...

Adoption and Control

Here's another little thing no one ever told me about adoption.  It will change the way you parent.

Wait. Strike that. It may change the way your parent. At least, it did for me.

I wouldn't say I am a Type A person. I wouldn't say I am particularly laid back either. I think that, for the most part, I fall somewhere in between, ebbing and flowing, depending upon the day or the topic at issue. I never used to think of myself as a controlling person. 

I know parents that won't let their children out of the house unless they are spit-shined and perfectly dressed (matching of course).  That's not a hot-button issue for me. Have any of you seen Ally? She never matches. :) 

But just because a combo of stripes and plaid doesn't get me all worked up, doesn't mean I don't want to control other things.

Was it always like this? Our pre-adoption days seem so long ago, but I don't think so. Especially not for my husband, who is in fact, a very laid back guy. 

Sometime, very shortly after returning from Ethiopia the first time, our parenting style began to change. It had to. It was survival.

[Mark and the kids mid-2008]

You see, Abi and Hana went from a life of very limited choice to one, by comparison, that was full of the unknown and new in almost every waking moment. New foods, new clothes, animals, people, weather, language. It was extraordinarily overwhelming and overstimulating. So the control started, in large, part, to minimize the stress for them. 

We would lay out two outfits for them to chose from, rather than give them full reign to dig through their closets. They could have this or that for lunch, a banana or an orange for snack. Sometimes, even limited choices were too much.  Slowly, this changed, but it took time.

But the control went beyond food and clothing; it had to. Both kids had just spent significant time in an orphanage and there were consequences that needed to be addressed. We had to limit the amount of people in their lives who were permitted to give them physical affection. For example, we withdrew Abi from preschool (for several reasons, but) in part because his teachers were constantly hugging and holding him. Then, Mark would come to pick him up at lunch time and Abi would hide from him. It was not good for our attachment.

Then we adopted an older child. The first few months we were just trying to awkwardly get to know each other, with out limited language skills. We knew we had "broken all the rules" on older child adoption by going so far out of birth order, so we were careful. We were observant and tried to keep an eye on everyone - to keep everyone safe and happy.

Do you know what constant vigilance does to you after two years?

It changes you. It changes how you parent. It changes your norm, your status quo.

But life continues to change. Kids continue to develop and grow and thrive. But control has not completely left us.

Control - something that started out as a benefit to my children, a safety mechanism - has turned into something ugly and unhelpful.

I never wanted to be a helicopter mom. I didn't think I even had it in me. I don't double-check every answer on my kid's homework and then fix the ones that are wrong. I don't demand that teacher's change their grades. If they forget their lunches or library books, I don't run them up to the school. They deal with their own consequences.

However, lately it has become clear to me that I am struggling with other control issues. It tends to crop up in different ways, catching me off guard. I'm doing my best to (1) be aware of it, and (2) address it. This appears to involve some soul-searching and introspection on my part. Blech. But it is a much-needed exercise, for the benefit of my kids and myself. It's hard enough to control my own life, I certainly don't need the extra obligation of micro-managing theirs. :)

Something New Adoptive Parents Should Know...

As a sort of follow up to my musings yesterday, I have been thinking about an offshoot topic.

First, I read a great blog post yesterday that every adoptive parent (or friend or family member of an adoptive family) should read. "After the Airport" is a great summary of how a truly wonderful thing (adoption of your child) is not an easy thing. In fact, it can be terribly sad and frustrating and scary and ... exhausting, especially at first. I truly don't remember much of the first three months after Hana and Abi joined our family.  There was just so much adjusting for all of us. They were learning a new language and how to live in a family and we all had size adjusting to do. It was honestly a really, really hard time. Was I happy to have my kids home. YES YES YES. Would I do it again? Obviously, I've done it twice more.  But it was hard.

Right around that 3 month mark, things eased up. Hana and Abi had learned quite a bit of English, so communication issues were less fierce.  We were all settling in and learning about each other.  It was at that point that we finally felt like we were capable of parenting another and we decided to pursue Selam's adoption. 

I don't know if I've really blogged about it too much, but we had to jump through quite a few hoops to get approved to adopt Selam. A couple of major issues were our age (we were pretty young to parent an almost-teen), the fact that she would be our oldest child (major birth order disruption), and that it had been less than a year since our last adoption.  The last issue was quickly waived due to the fact that Hana and Selam are siblings.  I remember dismissing it as an issue myself, at the time.  We were ready. Hana and Abi were doing great. We could handle it.

And all of those things were true. All still are true.

But what I have only recently realized is that no matter how "fine" things are after 3 months, 12 months or 5+ years... it's not ever quite fine. The honeymoon period might last you only hours, but it could last years. You may have no idea what kind of underlying trauma has affected your kids before they were part of your lives. You don't know how various parts of their past - a past they may not remember - has formed and shaped their little hearts and souls.  You can't know because they don't know.  These scars run deep, but are often hidden for some time. It may take years and years before your child will trust you - if ever.  Yes, you have to be prepared that your baby may never truly trust you, as heartbreaking as that would be. Because that's reality for some.

All this may affect your child's personality, their academic performance, their most basic brain functions and sense of reason. And their hearts. Always their hearts. 

And although the first three months are tough tough tough and full of adjustment, time does not necessarily make things easier, but different. Less about triage, about putting out fires, and more about doing everything you can to help them heal inside and out. And this is an ongoing process.  

Any adoptive parent that tells you otherwise is lying - to you or themselves or both. I don't care if your child was 2 days old when they joined your family, she suffered trauma. I don't care how many times your son has been on the honor roll - somewhere, he's probably hurting and needs your help. 

I don't say this to dissuade people from adopting. On the contrary, we have now adopted four times and although I don't plan on doing so again, I learned that I will "never say never." But I have also learned that I cannot just look at my family now and think "oh sure we could do it again" or "they are all adjusting so well, we could handle another" or "there is not need for therapy, everyone is so well adjusted!" Because trauma and grief simply don't work that way. Don't be complacent. They may need you (and need to heal) as much 5 or 10 years after homecoming as much as they did at 5 months... and maybe more.

What Every New Parent Should Know

I've been thinking a lot about parenting lately. I guess that's what six kids will do for you. ;)  I'm at an age where many of my peers are pregnant with #1 or #2, cuddling newborns, or sleep deprived and chasing after toddlers.  I expect that some envy us with 2 kids at a babysitting age and the others old enough to function without constant supervision.  After all, we must have it pretty easy now! 

And I'll admit it - it is pretty nice.  I tend to get woken up more frequently by my dogs these days than I do by my kids!

But this parenting thing - is it easier?  Ummm... nope.

Those first few years slip by faster than you can believe.  One moment, you are examining those almost-translucent eyelids while your sweetheart snoozes through his third nap of the day.  The next, your dressing him up for his first day of school. Before you know it, it's time for team sports and dances and cell phones.  And as your children get bigger, their problems get bigger.  And their choices (and yours) have greater consequences. 

One moment they want to tell us every detail of their day, from what their teacher ate during snack time to what library book they might want, to what they WISH we could have for dessert. And you think you might just scream if you hear one more "and then THIS happened..!"  But before you know it, you are forcibly pulling out even bare-bones details. And you worry that you don't have enough information to be a good parent. Because you never have enough information. You can't keep up on who is dating who, who is best friends with who, what so-and-so said, how bad was that math test, etc. You will never fully understand they level of drama that your child is going through.  Or they assume you don't/can't, which amounts to the same thing.  

And there can be this constant, low level of worry. What if I screw up? What if I should have called him out on this? What if I should have trusted her more about that? What if I had asked this question or been there for this event? What if what if what if. What if I had done more. Why didn't I see this coming.

I just remember the sleepless nights, rubbing a baby's back and praying she might fall back to sleep. Frantically looking for the "binky" to calm her down.  Scheduling around nap times and hauling a huge diaper bag everywhere and knowing that I just needed to hang in there. It would get easier, I would get to sleep again and it would be easier.

But it doesn't.

That's not to say that it gets worse, however.  

I am actually not a baby person. I love that my kids are all old enough to have dance parties and deep conversations (well, some deeper than others) and can get themselves dressed and most can even cut their own meat. :) But now that they are well on their way physically, I worry about their souls even more. I worry about a boy breaking my sweet girls' hearts. I worry about a catty "friend" with too many harsh words.  I worry about bullies on the school bus and the stress of academics for my kids that struggle in school.  I worry about their hearts. I want to protect them.  I want to put them in a metaphorical car seat, buckle them in tight and know that they are safe.

But I can't. Because growing up does mean letting go.  Letting them have their hearts broken and their feelings hurt, their pride stamped on and their dreams dashed. That's living.  That's growing. That's allowing them to become their own person. 

And it's one of the hardest things I've ever done.  And they just don't explain that part in the books.

Grow Into the Person Who Can - Part 2.

In August, I wrote a post about my transformation over the last couple of years, from a person who dreamed of running a marathon to a person who made a plan to DO it.

 

Since then, I have been thinking about that mantra, the words "Grow Into the Person Who Can" floating through my head now and again. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it applied to other areas of my life.  

With our travel to Colombia (hopefully) fast approaching and the impending addition of child #6, I have been thinking about this more and more. 

When people hear we have 5 kids, we get a lot of shocked looks. When people find out three are adopted, we get (for the most part) tons of praise (and occasionally awkward comments...). Add on another adoption and some would sign us up for sainthood.    "That's amazing, I could never do that." "I've thought about adopting but don't have the personality for it."  "You guys are incredible, your kids are so lucky."  

(I'm not intending to toot my own horn, people really say this stuff. It's awkward.)

 Now, I'll be the first to say that adoption is NOT for everyone. Nor does it somehow make you a better person or something.  *end disclaimer*

But if you are NOT adopting because you "couldn't handle that" or because you "don't have the temperament" or whatever...Or because you think we are somehow different people... Stop yourself and ask what the real issue is.

Most people are not born with the temperament to be excellent parents. Excellent parents perfectly balance selflessness with self-growth, organization with balance, love with discipline.  In short, they aren't real people. ;)

I am not an excellent parent, adoptive or otherwise.  Heck, I'm not even a "kid person." (for serious - volunteering in a classroom is like the 7th circle of hell)

But I try. And I grow. 

I was 19 years old when my first child was born. I was barely more than a child myself. In many ways, I didn't know WHAT to do with her!  There was a long stretch where we thought Grace might be an only child. We just didn't feel capable of parenting more. Couldn't even imagine parenting more.

Time passed. We grew. We grew UP and we grew as parents.  We knew we were ready for another child.  And Ally came along.  Well, you can't really ever be ready for Ally.  ;) But we managed. There were some tough months - colic is no joke. But we continued to grow. We added in the difficulty of managing a work-life balance.  And we grew.  It was sometimes two steps forward, one back.  But we grew. 

And we knew in our hearts that adoption was our next step. We were naive and foolish in our expectations, but trusting, and we followed God's lead. And he led us right to Abi. And then to Hana. And we encountered an entirely new ballgame, preparing for the adoption of not one, but two somewhat "older" children. Despite our mistakes, we grew as a family, now pieced together by love and effort, not just biology.

And shortly thereafter, He opened the door for Selam to join our family. We certainly didn't see that coming!  We were FAR from the ideal parents for her.  We struggled, learning how to parent a teenager, barely out of our 20s ourselves. 

We messed up. Again. And again. 

And we grew. 

The truth is, we aren't all that special. We will never win parent of the year. But, we are pretty good parents.  And we are infinitely better parents than we were 11 years ago. 

If you would have told me, 10+ years ago, that we would eventually have 6 kids from 3 continents, I would have laughed. I had other plans. Fortunately for me, God laughed at my plans.

I wasn't born the "future mom of 6 kids, 4 of which are adopted." 

But I grew into a person who could be.

Family Date!

This is the last week of summer for my kiddos! Since we had some plans with extended family over Labor Day, this was our last family weekend for the summer. We decided to go out with a bang!

Sunday was the first annual Family Date Day! It was also "yes" day (we tried to say yes to as many requests as possible, provided they were free or inexpensive and not ridiculous.)

Started the day with church, followed with a great afternoon at the beach. Cleaned up at home, off to Costco for dinner :)  Little relaxing and then family movie night with the Lorax.  Awesome day.

 

Dads

This post is a day overdue, but better late than never.

Yesterday was Father’s Day.  This has been a tough day for the last 3 years and always creates some mixed feelings for me.  I lost my dad in 2009 and there are just certain days that the loss is more profound. Sometimes those are just random, regular days, but other days are more predictable – the anniversary of his death, his birthday, and father’s day.

My dad was a great guy. He was a hard worker and a good friend. He gave excellent hugs and good advice. He was a great dad and grandfather.  Three years later, his loss is still painful.

 

Despite that, father’s day is also a wonderful day. I’m so blessed to be married to an incredible father and I’m glad there is a holiday to remind me to express my thanks for all he does.  He is my partner in all that we do and he makes our family work.

He heads off for work daily before any of the kids are up, but is home when they get off the bus. During the school year, he handles the chaos that comes with 4 pm and manages to listen to their daily news, get them a snack and have them start their homework, all while getting dinner going.  He shuttles kids to and from various sports practices, allergy shots, and other appointments.  He helps out soccer teams, pumps up flat tires, and does laundry and dishes when needed. He is the go-to for anything technological and is able to sort out iPods, DS problems and computer funks.  Mark is extraordinarily artistic, creative and resourceful. Since we have continued to fill our house with little bodies, he is always looking for new ways to make things function more smoothly and at little or no cost.  He’s built lockers, bookshelves, benches, and our kitchen table.

Our lives are busy, lively and sometimes very loud.  And, perhaps too often, things can get stressful! Nevertheless, when I had the chance to take a mini-vacation with my girlfriends this past weekend, Mark didn’t hesitate – he told me to GO.
 

 

I had a ton of fun with my friends. But, as you can imagine, I was excited to come home to such a great guy.  So very blessed to be married to such an amazing man.

Zombie Dash and the Week that Disappeared...

Last weekend, I already had plans for last Monday's post - a simple weekend recap of a 5k race + a 16 mile long run and maybe some cute family photos.  Well, Sunday afternoon, life intervened.

I'll back up to Saturday 4/28.  My oldest daughter and I (along with a friend) were all set to run her first 5k race.  She played basketball this winter and has been running track, so it seemed like a good time.  And she was too excited to miss the Zombie Dash.  I mean, what could be cooler to a 15 year old than trail running while being chased by zombies?  :) The race shirts were pretty epic too:

 

S and I with one of the zombie volunteers. This lady was intense - stayed in character the entire time pre-race.  Kind of spooky really.  Hard to get the full effect, but her make-up was incredible.

 Us runners were "survivors" and there were a few good costumes there too.  

Here are some army guys, ready to save the day!

This may have been my favorite costume - a zomBEE. hahahaha  :)

The race was a lot of fun, but there some surprises. I'd never really run on trails before and the dirt (and hills!) make for a harder run.  However, that effort was balanced out by the walking. Yes, walking.  More than a few areas on the trails were very narrow - single file.  So, if someone in front of you walked (and many did) everyone walked. This was frustrating at times.  Not a good race to "race" but not so bad if you just go with it to have fun. I think our final times were in the low 40 min range.  Even at my slowish pace, that's a slow 5k.  But it was also nice to enjoy it and not have it go by so quickly.

On Sunday we went to church and I got ready for my long run without a firm plan.  I wanted to do a minimum of 10 miles, but also really wanted to hit the 15+ mile point once more before the Riverbank Run. I was kind of secretly hoping to do 16 miles.  Unlike my last 15.5 miler, this run wasn't very comfortable.  My body felt heavy and it was humid.  But I had slogged through over 10 miles and thought 16 seemed attainable, even though some walking was involved.  Around mile 10.5, I heard my phone ring.  This is unusual in itself, since I frequently forget to turn my ringer on. And it was also odd that I answered it. But I did.

It was my husband.  Initially I was annoyed - why was he calling? He knew I was running.  Long story short, something was wrong with our daughter, S.  He didn't know what it was, but she wasn't herself and it scared him.  I told him to take her directly to the ER.  I called my neighbor to come get me (I was still well over 5 miles from home at this point) and started running toward where her car would be coming. She rushed me home, I found another neighbor to watch the other kids, and hurried to the hospital. I didn't even take the time to change - just grabbed a sweatshirt. (yes, pity Mark and everyone else - I STANK).

The next few hours and days are both a blur and yet firmly etched into my memory.  I realize it seems cryptic, but I'd rather not get into sharing private medical information on a public blog. I will say I had to sit and watch my oldest daughter as sick as I've ever seen her.  I had to hold her hand, not knowing what was wrong and not knowing if she'd be okay. It was the scariest week of my life.

I love my children - all of my children. And this week proved that to me a million times over.  As I watched S lying there, so sick, my heart broke for her, worried for her, ached for her. I was not able to hold S as an infant. We did not have that time together.  Nevertheless, that was my baby lying there. A mother's pain is such a unique and powerful thing.

Long story made very short, S is okay and we expect no real issues going forward. It was a very crazy, stressful week.  But so many positive things as well. I was reminded again of my love for S.  I was reminded again (and again) of how wonderful and supportive our family and friends are; how much others love my family too.  I was blessed with gifts of food, of time. I was reminded that such love and kindness is not a debt to be repaid, but a gift to pass on to another family when the time comes.

So, as I sit typing, it is now Wednesday, May 9.  My mind roams over the past 10 days and comes up both full and empty.  It's as if that time disintegrated.  But it doesn't matter.

Because it's time for us to look forward. And the future is bright.

Never, Ever Give Up

"Winning is not about headlines and hardware [medals]. It's only about attitude. A winner is a person who goes out today and every day and attempts to be the best runner and best person he can be.  Winning is about struggle and effort and optimism, and never, ever, ever giving up." 

~Amby Burfoot, Editor-at-Large, Runner's World~

I receive daily quotes via email from Runner's World. Many I skim and delete, but on occasion, one will jump out at me and stick with me. This is one of those quotes. Interestingly, it does not seem to be haunting me as it relates to running, but as to parenting.  

As parents, we all have those days where we doubt ourselves and our abilities as parents.  Yesterday was one of those days.  No need to go into details, but it was just one of those disappointing and frustrating days with some of my kids. Some stuff was little, other stuff was bigger, but at the end of the day I was just feeling emotionally spent and inadequate. As a result, I had little grace left for my husband and we went to bed angry as well. 

I woke up this morning feeling a little leftover sadness, but mostly irritation at myself, thinking about things I could have done differently, wondering if it might have changed the outcome of the evening. But I got up, received a sweet hug from Mark and started feeling better.  I opened this email and read this quote and found my eyes just eating up the words, revising them in my mind:

Parenting is not about awards. It's only about attitude. A good parent is a person who goes out today and every day and attempts to be the best parent and best person he can be.  Winning is about struggle and effort and optimism, and never, ever, ever giving up.

 I'm certainly not a perfect person and hardly a model parent. Some days - like yesterday - I go to bed just feeling like I've blown it, like my kid are going to blame me to their therapists. And there is that tiny fear that certain kids might just be boneheads indefinitely. ;)  But being a good parent is a struggle (sometimes more than others) and requires effort and optimism.  And never, ever, ever giving up. On my kids, or on myself. 

So I walked upstairs to wake my little troublemakers up for the day. And one of them snuggled up against me, threw an arm around my neck and whispered, "I love you mom."  

And I knew it would be okay. Somehow, we'd be okay.

Enough

When is enough, enough?

What a tough question.  And the answers certainly vary – “enough” cookies is different than “enough” veggies.  Enough exercise vs. enough television. And the answers will likely be different for each question-asker.  What is “enough” for me, may be too much for you, or too little.

As we prepare to grow our family again, I have thought about this question a bit.  Friends have asked me, how do you know you can (or should) add another member to your family?  How do you know that it’s the right decision?

That’s a tough question.  A big, unruly and somewhat scary question.  How do you know?  But all I can do is give our answer… How did we know that we should add to our family again?

Easy.

We just knew.

[I’ll wait for the eye-rolling to cease.]

I’m not being facetious. Just honest.  I can’t even say whether the realization happened all at once or if it was more of a gradual awakening.  I expect the latter is more accurate. In any event, at some point, it simply became clear that we were capable of parenting another child.

And beyond that – we were not merely “able” to parent another child, but we wanted to.

I don’t mean there is this hole in our life. We are beyond blessed (and busy) with our 5 amazing children, 2 crazy dogs, anti-social cat and 2 full-time jobs. We balance sports and school, careers and family, laundry and homework.  There is no mass void to “fill.” JS isn’t a prescription to a problem.

JS is a very real little boy.  He was not special ordered to fulfill some pre-determined role in our household.  He will come to us with his own trauma and brokenness from what he has lost.  He will likely come to us – as total strangers – wary and afraid.  There may be some very tough times ahead. We understand this.

Yet, he will come to a family that is so very excited to meet him.  So very excited to open our arms and welcome him.  Thus, the thought of extra laundry, homework, expenses and time does not intimidate us.  Rather, the thought of the additional blessings he will bring fills us with joy.

And so, that’s how we knew.  Five children may be “enough” for us… but we have the capacity, love and desire for more than enough.

"Will you cuddle with me?"

A long weekend filled with friends, family and junk food = exhausted kids with stomach aches.

She rises at 4:30, pads downstairs to my doorway.  "Mom. Mommy. I need you.  Please tuck me in."  I shake away the desperately clinging throes of sleep to head up with her. Tucking her blankets up under her chin.  And she looks at me with those blue, blue eyes.  "Will you cuddle with me?"

Hana is already sharing her twin bed, so I settle in on the rough carpet next to her.  Fall is settling in and it's cold.  I find a throw blanket in their mess of covers and claim it for my own.  Her breathing becomes slower, more calm.  But she doesn't fall asleep. She periodically reaches down to assure herself I am still there.  Finally, she slips out of her bed and into my arms, finally relaxing fully. I stay there a few minutes more before tucking her back in next to Hana and placing a kiss on her forehead.  

I carefully ease out her door, desperate for a few more minutes in my own bed, under the down comforter.  As I slip into the hallway, I hear her sweet, five-year-old voice whisper, "I love you mom."

I returned to bed, shutting off my alarm to run.  I scraped myself out after 2 snoozes on the later alarm.  I am clutching my coffee in one hand, trying to type with the other, and managing the puppy with my knees.  

But my heart is happy. 

Reflections ...

"Any change, even a change for the better, is always accompanied by drawbacks and discomforts."

~Arnold Bennett~

**Note - this photo has nothing to do with the post, I just liked it and blogs should have photos.**

I think most people *know* that life can change in a moment.  Most humans have at least a basic grasp on temporary vs. eternal.  The only constant is change, right?

But how many of us truly acknowledge that in our daily lives? That is, until we are forced to.

Three years ago, I questioned by qualifications, my very identify as a mother, challenged as never before.

Two and a half years ago, I was forced to come to terms with the fact that I won't always be surrounded by those close to me.  It wouldn't always be illness and age that steals them away.

Two years ago, a carefully crafted career crashed down around me.  Suddenly, ever-present financial security vanished.  A new fear swept in, followed quickly by a humility I never anticipated I would need.

A year ago I received a chance that a year before I would have sworn I never wanted!  The chance to homeschool and be at home more.

And now, things are changing again.  Although my work schedule is going to return to its "traditional nature" I have this gut feeling there is more change coming.  I'm doing my best to think positively about it, to be open to the possibilities - whatever they may be.

The changes mentioned above were hard.  Some tragic, even.  And yet, all have impacted me strongly.

Obviously, I never wanted to lose my father.  I am a different person because of it, stronger in some ways. I (of course) would give it all back to have him, but I know that's not an option.  So I do the best to look at the positive outcomes - the benefits I got from him during his life and the way that I grew after his death.  To appreciate the memories my kids have of him, the stories - even though they were so little when we lost him.  I love that they still talk about Papa Joe.  His presence is still with us.  Some things survive change, stay with us and make us stronger.

When I lost my job, I lost my identify for awhile. I was scared.  And yet... I wouldn't trade that experience.  Our entire family dynamic shifted. Things we thought we were never capable of were suddenly necessary.  And we not only survived, we thrived!  It led to a new job, one that I would have considered myself "above" ... a job that has been fun and fulfilling and taught me so much!

Our homeschool journey, it seems, was brief.  And yet... my entire way of thinking about our family and about education has changed. I no longer will accept things "because that is the way it is."  I have already noticed that my advocacy skills have changed for the better.  I truly understand that learning happens all the time.  My kids may return to a classroom and be exposed to all kinds of wonderful (and some not-so-wonderful) things there, but the bulk of their learning will occur outside school walls, much in our own home.  That thought is so freeing.  

My journey as a mother is a continuing one, constantly morphing, changing.  I have never questioned myself so much as I have in these years since adding children who have suffered trauma.  Never have I felt so inadequate.  Yet, I look at the person I was before and can now see this huge hole - this whole part of me that was missing.  I can't imagine life without them.

These were not doors slammed in my face - simply directives onto a new page.

Feeling hopeful at the possibilities... 

"Flowers never emit so sweet and strong a fragrance as before a storm. When a storm approaches thee, be as fragrant as a sweet smelling flower."

-Jean Paul Richter

Time Management Sucks

And now for something totally random!

I'll admit - not the most accurate title.  Actually, time management skills are pretty wonderful.  I just don't really have them (at least not the level I'd like), so I sometimes get really frustrated by those uber-organized moms that can pull things together in a heartbeat. ;)

Because I have a larger-than-average size family, people tend to assume I have it all together, with a system for everything.  Since I also work outside (and inside) the home and have actually started working on personal hobbies (shock!), those people often jump to the conclusion that I have some secret to creating extra hours in the day.

Ummmm... nope.  hahahaha

As my mom and college roommate could tell you, I am naturally messy. Unorganized.  Often forgetful and more than a little ... blonde. :)  Sometimes I think this is why God has maneuvered my life this way - every day is an opportunity for growth!  Because I am that mom that can't seem to keep the field trips straight and forgets to send in the knick knack to school (and I was the ONLY ONE that didn't have one...) and constantly RSVPs late (or forgets...).  Buying birthday gifts on the way to the party.  Digging around the house at 9 pm for a suitable "sharing" item for the next day.  I don't know what I would do without direct debit for monthly bills - I shudder to think.

This is not an area of my life I am proud of.  I don't want my kids to struggle in this area, but I don't set much of an example (at least not consistently).

I'm working on it.

In the meantime, all you naturally uber-organized peeps out there... cut us flighty goofballs some slack.  :)  Not because I have 5 kids (I can't blame it on them... unfortunately).  But because most people would not choose to live in chaos of order came more naturally.

So roll your eyes at my late RSVP - that's fair.  But at least I'll be at the party!  :)

**Note - this post is not the result of any specific instance or someone's frustration at me.  Just a random part of my personality I was thinking about this morning while drinking my coffee and staring at my clutter-strewn desk.**

When it's Not "Bad Enough"

March 2008

Have you ever found yourself in that "in-between" space?  Where things aren't going that great, but, hey, things could be a LOT worse.  So you don't complain.  And things are going okay, but not great.  So you don't rejoice?

How many of us struggle in this space of in-between... 

I have been struggling here, in this in-between, lately.  Without going into great detail, we are struggling with some behavior and attachment issues.  It seems like we finally make progress with one child and then BAM, out of left field comes issues with another.  But they aren't what I would consider big issues.  I have several close friend struggling with some big issues with their children (related to adoption, attachment, depression, destruction, etc).  In comparison, our issues are piddly. Non-issues. My friends would think it was a vacation to have our issues!  I'm not exactly in a place to complain!  In fact, considering everything, we have had an amazing transition.  No one wants to listen to me whine about my "problems."

So... 

I don't.  Quiet.

And it weighs.  It isolates.  

Because ... if our kids are so great (they are) and their transition went so well (it did), than how is it possible that I feel so worn?  So ... hurt? Unloved? Irritated? Confused? None of those words truly fit. But they provide some frame of reference.   

What does that make me?  Our family??

Normal.

We are quickly approaching our 3 year anniversary of having Abi and Hana as part of our family.  Selam has been with us over a year and a half.  We are no longer in transition.  We are into a groove. It feels normal, it feels right.  It feels like family.

And yet ... there are issues.

Oh, I read about the potential issues. I knew they wouldn't just magically disappear at the 9 month mark.  But knowing and knowing are very different things. And besides... that couldn't really happen to us could it? But it did.

Because 3 years does not erase 2+ hard years of orphanage mentality - sugary sweet (insincere) charm.  3 years does not replace a primal fear of hunger.  3 years does not replace a critical span where there was no trust.  3 years does not "replace" an Ethiopian mom, even one you don't remember. 

3 years is the tip of the iceberg.

These past few challenging weeks have shown us that we have found "normal" in our lives. And normal for us is not the same as "normal" would have been had we not adopted.  Although these specific challenges are likely a phase, this stage is not.  Our lives will morph and change as we all do as we grow older.  But "issues" won't disappear - they are part of our normal.  If we are lucky, they will remain (relatively) minor. And we will find the strength to meet them.  But pretending they are not there, letting the unease rest just below the surface is not healthy.  

Life is messy.  Adoption is no different. Beautiful, complicated, painful, redemptive, challenging, remarkable... but messy.  But a gift, an amazing gift.  

It may not be "bad enough" to complain.  I may not feel "good enough" to manage.  But this too shall pass in some form, and make me a better person.  And just because its not "bad enough" doesn't mean it is easy.  

And that's okay.

The Super Woman Myth

(Background to this post - I worked as an attorney for several years at a large law firm- a rather prestigious position making great $ that I worked very hard for. I accepted a new position with a company that subsequently folded and left me high-and-dry and my family without an income.  Fortunately, Mark (previously a SAHD) found a position quickly.  Since then, I spent some time at home with my kids, then working full time at a far lower paying (and less time consuming) job, which I have since been able to turn into a partial telecommuting position, allowing for more time at home).

"Every woman has the ability or the drive to do it all and have it all ... We're machines." 

~Christina Aguilera~

Bullshit.

The whole superwoman concept has really started to piss me off - because she doesn't exist.  You CAN'T do it all. No one can. No one does.  

We women (professional, stay at home, or otherwise) all pretend that we do/can meet this ideal.  I work full time and like to bake cookies, which sometimes results in those "supermom" comments.  But my house is a wreck!  And I probably should have finished that memo first... 

Our inadequacies are often carefully hidden away - until we can't do it any more and the many plates we are balancing plummet to the ground.  Everyone hears the crash and turns around and whether they unleash accusing stares or not, we feel them.  And we despair - we aren't the wife we want to be, the mother we want to be, the employee we want to be... everything is lacking. 

I have come to the conclusion (for myself) that this belief in superwoman - believing that someone could accomplish all of these things... such belief sets me up for failure, guilt, worry and stress.  It is like believing in some false idol - a whisper on the wind, always just out of reach.  

Sure, there is always someone out there - we all know her.  Size 4, perfectly made up, beautiful children, immaculate house.  She is also probably a successful orthopedic surgeon who de-worms orphans in her spare time and never misses a classroom party.  Right? Isn't that what we are all shooting for? The perfect balance of objective success and loving family?  I'm sure she's out there somewhere.

But what drugs does she take to avoid that pesky need to sleep? When was the last time she made love to her husband?  Or had a snowball fight with her kids just because?

Society - and even feminism - have sold us on this myth that we can have it all.  And that if things are getting hectic, family should be the thing that gives. Oh, no one says this stuff out loud.  It doesn't need to be articulated. We are surrounded - fighting uphill battles at work with men that often times are single or who have a wife at home with the kids. Or men who don't understand because dads and moms are different... And those of us at home struggling with the many who believe these women don't really "do" anything all day and heck your kid is in kindergarten now, surely its time for a "real" job?

I have started to come to painful conclusions about myself.  I found the mirror to be ugly.  

I am intelligent.  I am a good attorney.  I should be able to find another job (eventually) back in with the big dogs.  But when I was doing that work, my energy and focus didn't align with my "supposed" priorities.  I'm not sure I can allow myself to go back to that.

Sometimes I still dream of the big firm days- I miss that feeling of importance, success.  And I realize - I didn't go into and stay in that line of work because I "had to" for financial reasons.  Oh, I certainly thought that at the time - after all, I was the only one making $$, my potential income was great.  And when I took that job at the company... I was thrilled - still great $, slightly different (but still prestigious) environment. Oh, I told myself it would be different - more family time, etc.  But I don't think it would have been. Maybe even worse.  

After the rug was pulled out last year, I fell hard. I feel off that cloud I had put myself on. I fell back to the real world. The world where my kids needed their mom and Dad was back to work and I didn't have any employment prospects and I was scared.  I lost my identity for awhile.  Who was I if I wasn't doing  "the best" (and for me, the "best" was all tied to that prestigious job)?  Who was I now - normal? typical? middle-of the road?  I spent my entire life avoiding that!  

I am fortunate in many ways that my current job landed in my lap. For one, financially I needed something at that point and it worked.  But two, it allowed me to gradually figure some things out that I wasn't allowing myself to think about when working at the law firm.  I'm still working through a lot of these things... I don't know that I would have allowed myself to do that if I wasn't forced to change.

Now I am essentially down to part-time (away from home).  I'm still barely holding things together many days. I guess that all to say that I am still searching, yearning to be super-mom and still falling short every day.  But I'm doing my best to re-focus my goals and ideals.  I've put a LOT more time into my marriage.  At first this seemed to result in more fights - but each bit has brought us closer...

I can't pretend I don't stare longingly at job postings by large firms or other positions I know pay top dollar. My mind whirls at what the extra $ could do for us right now... but I know that - for me, right now - that move would put a negative impact on my family.  For the first time in a long time, I stopped putting myself first.  All those years I felt like I was the martyr, that I was doing it all for others (and resented them at times for it) but I have come to realize that nearly all those choices were for me.  Law school, Law Review, the firm... those were my choices, my rewards for hard work. My idea that this is what I would have wanted if I didn't have a family and a family shouldn't hold me back!!

I had to stop looking at my family in this negative way and realized that I was holding my family back.  And, at this point in my life, I have a duty (and desire) to push our family forward, even though it feels pretty unglamorous sometimes. Even though I have to watch the bank account far more carefully and forgo little treats that I used to consider "needs." Our combined income in 2010 (both working)  will be about 60 or 70% what it was in 2008 (just me working) and our expenses are higher now (more kids, daycare). In 2008, I would have argued that a pay cut could NOT be done.  We couldn't make it.  But in 2009 we were simply forced to make it - and we did.  We never missed a payment on our house, we are current on our bills and able to put away a little here and there.  Oh, retirement savings are worse than pitiful.  ;)  We still have debt (student loans) that I would rather not.  But those are worries I have had to let go of....

I didn't write this to make anyone feel guilty or to condemn those that have made choices different from my own, one way or another.  I also don't wish to appear as a martyr now - selfishly, I'm happier than I have been in a long time!  I finally feel as if we are on the right path.

I just wanted to share my story as to how I realized that superwoman doesn't exist and the constant search to BE her is part of what sucks the life out of us as women. At some point we do have to just suck it up and say, yep, I failed (x,y, z) and could have done better one (a, b, c). Tomorrow is a new day.  And I'm going to put my energies to my priorities and the rest will have to fall in line where it may.  

And I had to list my priorities as (1) my marriage; (2) kids (3) everything else (including work).  Because I just can't survive otherwise. 

I'm still struggling - struggling with ideals and plans I have had for myself since before I can remember. Struggling to see how my life fits within those plans. Mostly struggling to simply accept that my ideals and goals have changed. I don't need to keep myself in a box any more.  I need to keep my eyes open, searching for the next opportunity.  Looking for the next chance I can demonstrate to my family that they are my priority.

They have put up with a lot from me. :)