Dear Toddler Mother,
We only talked for a few minutes, but I recognized the anxiety in your voice. I saw the desperation in your eyes that told me, whether you work or stay at home with your child, that you are with children for more hours in the day than you are with adults. I'm sorry I didn't stay to talk to you longer. There was so much more I should have said. If I hadn't been there entertaining my two-year-old niece, I would have talked longer. I left my own toddler at home because she gives me a run for my money just like you said your two-year-old boy does to you. Bless you for still taking the time and effort to take him to the grocery with you. It teaches him how to behave in public. Good job for not giving up. Your bravery has inspired me to take my daughter with me more, even though it will involve screaming and snatching free cookies out of workers' hands, then running away without saying thank you.
Also I wanted to say that the reason I was entertaining my niece is that my sister is also stressed and at the end of her rope balancing life with a toddler, and I was trying to give her the gift of grocery shopping in peace. Every toddler mother feels the way you and I do.
You mentioned you doubted the quality of work you were doing in mothering your child. I know that you are doing a great job by the simple fact that you question it. That means you're still trying. Don't worry about all the mommy-shaming going around. I firmly believe that the only true mommy shame comes from within. Judge not lest ye be judged. When we look at others critically we tend to think they look at us the same way. So don't worry about them. They're most likely not worrying about you. It's our interpretation of the comments and looks we receive that feels like judgment and we have control over that. We have to let those comments roll off our backs. Most of the time no real harm or judgement is intended, it just feels that way because we are raw in those spots the comments touch from all the self-judging. And the comments and looks that are intended to hurt are not about us. They're about the speaker. Those people have either never been in your situation or have forgotten just how difficult and hopeless life feels in the years when your kids are toddlers. So take it easy on yourself. You're doing a great job and it will get easier.
The stranger who understands,
Laura
P.S. Your child seemed pretty well behaved considering his age. Must be the result of good parenting.
Saturday, November 28, 2015
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Motherly Sacrifice
On Mother's Day I remember two incredible mothers in my life. They are the women who made me a mother. They both love their children so much they were able to make a sacrifice most people will never be able to fathom. Similar to the way most people find it hard to understand why God sacrificed his own son on the cross. Sometimes love hurts. I have learned that in becoming a parent. I love my children so fiercely that sometimes I ache with the feeling. The love in my heart won't pour onto them fast enough to relieve the ache. I know for a fact that Maddox's and Mia's birth mothers feel that same kind of painful love every day. I am forever bonded to these special women, our hearts sewn together through the intense motherly love of the same son and daughter.
On Mother's Day my heart aches for those who gave me the gift only God himself can give: the gift of life. Thank you to birth mothers everywhere for your sacrifice. It is through your pain and heartache that families are created.
On Mother's Day my heart aches for those who gave me the gift only God himself can give: the gift of life. Thank you to birth mothers everywhere for your sacrifice. It is through your pain and heartache that families are created.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Prescription for Sleep
It was no secret that Brother slept in our room until he turned six. In fact, it was often a subject we openly complained about. When we first brought him home at eight months old, we were overly cautious about everything. One of the many things we were afraid of was the effects of him not forming a solid attachment to us. Of course he was attached to us right away, more to Jamie than to me. Not to say anything about my mothering. It's just that Jamie is an amazing father. He can't help it. He's a baby magnet. He draws them in. My strategy to form a solid attachment with my baby included rocking him. I don't regret it, even now. It did lead to him sleeping in our room for five years though.
When he was around three we convinced him that it would be way cooler to sleep in a Disney Cars themed bed tent than on a mattress next to our bed. He made it all the way through the night for three nights in a row. Then a storm came. The power transformer carrying power to our house that attached to our house right outside of Brother's window blew up in the middle of the night. Three things happened at once: a blinding blue flash, a loud boom, and the drum roll of a screaming toddler's feet zipping across the hallway to our bedroom. He was traumatized. He is seven now and still talks about "the scary night."
We left it alone and let him sleep on a mattress on our floor indefinitely. When we started talking about bringing Baby into our family though, we had to make some hard choices and sleeping arrangements was one of those hard choices. We managed to get Brother into his own bed, and even got Baby into her own crib. We still had to rock Baby to sleep and lay down with Brother until he fell asleep, but we were very proud of our accomplishments. In fact, I wrote a blog post about it. I thought that was as good as it could get. It was still stressful when one parent had to put two kids to bed at the same time, but that only happened once a week.
I stand corrected. It got better. At Baby's fifteen month checkup our pediatrician asked if she was going to sleep by herself. My answer was a proud, "Yes, she sleeps all night in her crib." Then as I was saying it I remembered the week before when she woke up six times in one night. I added, "Well, most nights."
Our pediatrician is perceptive and noticed that I didn't answer the question. He said, "So you lay her down awake and she goes to sleep by herself?"
I laughed, then caught myself when I realized he was serious. I didn't know that was possible. I'd heard parents say that's how they did it, but I still didn't believe it. I told him we'd have to start doing that with Brother first. His eyes widened. He's usually very laissez faire when it comes to parenting. He teaches us to handle things on our own and rarely gives orders when he isn't asked. So when he pushed the sleep issue we listened. He nicely asked me when I was going to stop being selfish and let her be independent. I hadn't thought of it that way. He said it wouldn't cause permanent emotional effects from letting her cry. I knew that was true…for her. I laughed when I told him the lasting emotional damage would be mine and not hers. He says in many couples one parent can't handle crying when the other can. Jamie had to look all manly in front of the Dr. and made it clear that he didn't mind the crying when he knows she's safe in the crib. So our Dr. gave us a prescription for sleep.
Step #1 Establish a bedtime routine. It should last for 20-30 minutes. Something predictable to start signaling to Baby that we are getting ready to go to bed. For our bedtime routine we give her a bath, give her a baby massage while putting on her coconut oil and creamy lotion, then we go around the house and tell everyone goodnight, then we rock her for a few minutes.
Step #2 for me, leave the house. Dr.'s orders. :) He said since I can't take the crying I should leave, go for a walk, or just get away. I decided on a hot bath with both bathroom fans on so I couldn't hear a thing.
Step #2 for Jamie, lay her down and walk away. While Jamie was rocking her for a few minutes he talked quietly telling her it's time for night night, and telling her he loves her. Then he laid her down and walked out of the room. Of course she cried right away.
Step #3 Set a timer for 10 minutes. If she was still crying when the timer goes off, he would go into her room and pick her up and soothe her for 30 seconds or less. Then he leaves again.
Step #4 Repeat Step #3 as needed. Our Dr. said on average the first night takes 45 minutes. and by the fourth night you'll not hear much crying at all. Our results were similar. The first night for us took 35 minutes and on the fifth night she didn't cry at all.
The first night we started working on this with Baby, we had a talk with Brother. We told him Baby is being brave and learning to go to bed by herself. He giggled in that "ha ha my sibling is in trouble" way. Then we told him he needed to be a good example for her and be brave and go to sleep on his own too. his laughter quickly turned into a quivering bottom lip. We tucked him in, turned on his nightlight, and reminded him that we would be right outside the door if he got scared. We didn't hear anything from him for the rest of the night.
I have free time at night again! And this is all thanks to my wonderful husband. He completes me. When I'm not strong enough be the tough parent I need to be, he takes over and gets the job done. Our whole family is now well rested and happy.
Thank you Jamie!!
When he was around three we convinced him that it would be way cooler to sleep in a Disney Cars themed bed tent than on a mattress next to our bed. He made it all the way through the night for three nights in a row. Then a storm came. The power transformer carrying power to our house that attached to our house right outside of Brother's window blew up in the middle of the night. Three things happened at once: a blinding blue flash, a loud boom, and the drum roll of a screaming toddler's feet zipping across the hallway to our bedroom. He was traumatized. He is seven now and still talks about "the scary night."
We left it alone and let him sleep on a mattress on our floor indefinitely. When we started talking about bringing Baby into our family though, we had to make some hard choices and sleeping arrangements was one of those hard choices. We managed to get Brother into his own bed, and even got Baby into her own crib. We still had to rock Baby to sleep and lay down with Brother until he fell asleep, but we were very proud of our accomplishments. In fact, I wrote a blog post about it. I thought that was as good as it could get. It was still stressful when one parent had to put two kids to bed at the same time, but that only happened once a week.
I stand corrected. It got better. At Baby's fifteen month checkup our pediatrician asked if she was going to sleep by herself. My answer was a proud, "Yes, she sleeps all night in her crib." Then as I was saying it I remembered the week before when she woke up six times in one night. I added, "Well, most nights."
Our pediatrician is perceptive and noticed that I didn't answer the question. He said, "So you lay her down awake and she goes to sleep by herself?"
I laughed, then caught myself when I realized he was serious. I didn't know that was possible. I'd heard parents say that's how they did it, but I still didn't believe it. I told him we'd have to start doing that with Brother first. His eyes widened. He's usually very laissez faire when it comes to parenting. He teaches us to handle things on our own and rarely gives orders when he isn't asked. So when he pushed the sleep issue we listened. He nicely asked me when I was going to stop being selfish and let her be independent. I hadn't thought of it that way. He said it wouldn't cause permanent emotional effects from letting her cry. I knew that was true…for her. I laughed when I told him the lasting emotional damage would be mine and not hers. He says in many couples one parent can't handle crying when the other can. Jamie had to look all manly in front of the Dr. and made it clear that he didn't mind the crying when he knows she's safe in the crib. So our Dr. gave us a prescription for sleep.
Step #1 Establish a bedtime routine. It should last for 20-30 minutes. Something predictable to start signaling to Baby that we are getting ready to go to bed. For our bedtime routine we give her a bath, give her a baby massage while putting on her coconut oil and creamy lotion, then we go around the house and tell everyone goodnight, then we rock her for a few minutes.
Step #2 for me, leave the house. Dr.'s orders. :) He said since I can't take the crying I should leave, go for a walk, or just get away. I decided on a hot bath with both bathroom fans on so I couldn't hear a thing.
Step #2 for Jamie, lay her down and walk away. While Jamie was rocking her for a few minutes he talked quietly telling her it's time for night night, and telling her he loves her. Then he laid her down and walked out of the room. Of course she cried right away.
Step #3 Set a timer for 10 minutes. If she was still crying when the timer goes off, he would go into her room and pick her up and soothe her for 30 seconds or less. Then he leaves again.
Step #4 Repeat Step #3 as needed. Our Dr. said on average the first night takes 45 minutes. and by the fourth night you'll not hear much crying at all. Our results were similar. The first night for us took 35 minutes and on the fifth night she didn't cry at all.
Her preferred sleeping position is on her face, butt in the air.
The first night we started working on this with Baby, we had a talk with Brother. We told him Baby is being brave and learning to go to bed by herself. He giggled in that "ha ha my sibling is in trouble" way. Then we told him he needed to be a good example for her and be brave and go to sleep on his own too. his laughter quickly turned into a quivering bottom lip. We tucked him in, turned on his nightlight, and reminded him that we would be right outside the door if he got scared. We didn't hear anything from him for the rest of the night.
He looks so sweet when he's sleeping.
I have free time at night again! And this is all thanks to my wonderful husband. He completes me. When I'm not strong enough be the tough parent I need to be, he takes over and gets the job done. Our whole family is now well rested and happy.
Thank you Jamie!!
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Christmas Blessings
We've been busy. Busy preparing for Christmas. If you read the part 4 post of Mia's adoption story, you can see how chaotic our Christmas was last year. We were living in an apartment for two months waiting for our house to be built, so there really wasn't a lot of unpacking, and we came home on Christmas Eve with a two day old baby. On Christmas Eve we were up with the baby and last minute preparations until about four in the morning. We laid down for our fabled long winter's nap promised to us by the poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas" and Maddox woke up to see that Santa had come at 4:15 a.m. Jamie stayed up to watch Maddox open his presents. I tried, but slept through most of it. I remember hearing 'look Mom' a few times, but no visual memories. Later that day I was flipping through Facebook and saw some pictures of presents being opened by my child for the first time. Our Facebook friends got a first glimpse at my Christmas morning before I did.
As soon as we got home from visiting family for Thanksgiving, we bought our tree. We wanted to get one sooner, but made ourselves wait. Jamie and I get impulsive when we are excited, but we were able to reign it in a bit and only got the 11 footer--we had our eyes on the 12. Our backs are very glad we didn't go bigger. We carried it in ourselves--just the two of us. Well, rolled it in, I suppose. Anyway, we got it in. Jamie had put the stand on before we got it inside and we would tweak it for balance once we got the monstrosity upright. When we picked it up, it was perfectly straight, no tweaking required. Another Christmas miracle.
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| Funny. It doesn't look as big on top of our car. |
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| (Did you check for squirrels, Clark?) |
Maddox was able to put the star on top with a little help from Daddy and a ladder.
Maddox and I decorated a Gingerbread village and Made Minecraft shaped sugar cookies for our neighbors.
It's been Christmas non-stop around our house. And with one week left, it will only get more Christmas-y-er. Yes, that's a real word. I just made it up. Mia's first birthday party is coming up and so is Christmas with my side of the family, then Santa will come and bring more toys, Christmas with Jamie's side of the family, and Maddox's birthday won't be long after that. With the present overload and all the joyful chaos of the holidays I worried that my children would miss the true meaning of Christmas. I thought that when February rolls around and there are no more back-to-back birthdays and holidays involving presents they would become spoiled and not know what it means to plan and save up and work for things. I thought they would expect everything they want when they want it. I had too little faith in them. Maddox had to remind me, as he often does.
We were sitting waiting for Daddy's Christmas concert to start and sharing jelly beans. Maddox handed me an orange one and I said no thank you and asked if I could have a red one. He shook his head at me and told me to just enjoy what I have.
Both kids have been sick off and on for about a month now. Maddox's most recent affliction was a nasty double ear infection. We tried the good tasting antibiotic with no results. He had to take the yucky white stuff. I don't know what it tastes like, but my son loves to take medicine to the point that I'm a little worried about it. With the white stuff though...he runs and hides. We told him if he could be good and take his medicine without argument for all ten days he could open a present from mommy and daddy the day he takes his last dose. He did it. He worked hard at keeping a good attitude and struggled through two doses a day. He earned his present.
When he opened the long awaited present, I didn't see the reaction I expected. He is all about Minecraft lately, and I got him a Minecraft play set. He studied it calmly. He was happy, but not jumping up and down as I'd hoped. While we were putting it together I asked him a few times if he liked it and if that was what he wanted. He answered a simple yes every time. After I had asked if he wanted more he said, "I'm trying to just enjoy what I have."
When it was about candy, I thought it was a cute response. He was just repeating something I'd told him before, but the second time I saw that he truly gets it, maybe more than I do. He gets the true meaning of Christmas. It's not about presents. It's about enjoying what you have and the people you share it with. That's one smart kid.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Happy Adoption Day to My Little Boy
September 11th is a day of remembrance and a sorrowful day for most people. It is not merely the day that the twin towers fell for everyone though. For instance September 11th is my cousin's anniversary. Happy Anniversary Stacey and Chad! And for my immediate family, September 11th is the day Jamie and I officially (as far as paperwork is concerned) became parents for the first time.
Six years ago Jamie and I sat in the American Embassy in Guatemala City, Guatemala, holding our tiny baby boy. Baby girl is now almost the exact age Big Brother was when we held him on that day in the embassy. Holding her makes me remember how small he was. I remember dressing him in this tiny zip-up hoodie and khaki pants and having his picture made in it for his visa. He was nothing but big dark eyes and pouty red lips on a round tan canvas, a lighter version of what his little sister looks like now.
There were many other almost-adoptive parents there who clutched their own babies in a mixture of love and anxiety. Before we left for our take home trip, several people commented on how Brother looked like us, me in particular. I have dark eyes and hair too. One person even asked if they matched the babies with parents based on looks. Jamie and I laughed at the question, but as we sat in that room observing the parents with their babies we started to wonder the same thing. A baby with a long serious nose jumped in the lap of a mother with a similarly long and serious nose. A little girl baby with thick straight eyebrows sat in the lap of her adoptive father with the same eyebrow shape. We then saw a large woman with curly fire-red hair piled in a mess on top of her head. Jamie and I shared a look, our theory had been debunked. There was no way a Guatemalan baby could look like a pale red headed woman. Then the lady's husband sat her adoptive baby in her lap. The baby had the same curly hairdo, only a darker shade. Maybe there was something to the theory after all.
In our family An Adoption Day is like a birthday, but only with our immediate family. It's more personal, to me, than a birthday. We give one small gift, have a special meal, and do something fun as a family. Each year I tell Brother about his special day and try to explain to him what it means to be adopted. Each year he seems to understand a little more. This year he found pleasure in hearing that his name, before we officially changed it, was the same as a bad guy in Plants vs. Zombies. And then the book he chose to read tonight was about Batman and Robin, featuring the second Robin. It also mentioned that the first Robin, who became Nightwing, was an "orphaned acrobat who was adopted by Bruce Wayne." Most people know that Superman was adopted (we all have matching T shirts saying just that. They are available on www.olivetreepromise.com) but not as many people may know that Dick Grayson was actually adopted by Bruce Wayne. A fun fact that made our Adoption Day special. When we read over that part, Brother paused and had a proud look on his face that he had something in common with one of his heroes.
Another special bonus to Brother's Adoption Day was a special package that just happened to arrive today. My good friend sent a present to Brother that her husband picked up while he was traveling in Central America. It was a wonderful reminder of Brother's home country on his special day. So if you are reading this before we can tell you thank you ourselves, thank you very much Jamie and Michael! Your timing couldn't have been more perfect.
When I was tucking him in bed tonight I asked him if its was a good day. He said yes with a partially toothless grin. I did my job. I made him proud of who he is today, and I couldn't imagine my life without him.
Six years ago Jamie and I sat in the American Embassy in Guatemala City, Guatemala, holding our tiny baby boy. Baby girl is now almost the exact age Big Brother was when we held him on that day in the embassy. Holding her makes me remember how small he was. I remember dressing him in this tiny zip-up hoodie and khaki pants and having his picture made in it for his visa. He was nothing but big dark eyes and pouty red lips on a round tan canvas, a lighter version of what his little sister looks like now.
There were many other almost-adoptive parents there who clutched their own babies in a mixture of love and anxiety. Before we left for our take home trip, several people commented on how Brother looked like us, me in particular. I have dark eyes and hair too. One person even asked if they matched the babies with parents based on looks. Jamie and I laughed at the question, but as we sat in that room observing the parents with their babies we started to wonder the same thing. A baby with a long serious nose jumped in the lap of a mother with a similarly long and serious nose. A little girl baby with thick straight eyebrows sat in the lap of her adoptive father with the same eyebrow shape. We then saw a large woman with curly fire-red hair piled in a mess on top of her head. Jamie and I shared a look, our theory had been debunked. There was no way a Guatemalan baby could look like a pale red headed woman. Then the lady's husband sat her adoptive baby in her lap. The baby had the same curly hairdo, only a darker shade. Maybe there was something to the theory after all.
In our family An Adoption Day is like a birthday, but only with our immediate family. It's more personal, to me, than a birthday. We give one small gift, have a special meal, and do something fun as a family. Each year I tell Brother about his special day and try to explain to him what it means to be adopted. Each year he seems to understand a little more. This year he found pleasure in hearing that his name, before we officially changed it, was the same as a bad guy in Plants vs. Zombies. And then the book he chose to read tonight was about Batman and Robin, featuring the second Robin. It also mentioned that the first Robin, who became Nightwing, was an "orphaned acrobat who was adopted by Bruce Wayne." Most people know that Superman was adopted (we all have matching T shirts saying just that. They are available on www.olivetreepromise.com) but not as many people may know that Dick Grayson was actually adopted by Bruce Wayne. A fun fact that made our Adoption Day special. When we read over that part, Brother paused and had a proud look on his face that he had something in common with one of his heroes.
Another special bonus to Brother's Adoption Day was a special package that just happened to arrive today. My good friend sent a present to Brother that her husband picked up while he was traveling in Central America. It was a wonderful reminder of Brother's home country on his special day. So if you are reading this before we can tell you thank you ourselves, thank you very much Jamie and Michael! Your timing couldn't have been more perfect.
When I was tucking him in bed tonight I asked him if its was a good day. He said yes with a partially toothless grin. I did my job. I made him proud of who he is today, and I couldn't imagine my life without him.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Hallelujah
Big things are happening around our house this week. School is back in session. That means Big Brother is now in the first grade. He's an old pro at this school stuff. I didn't even walk him in on his first day. He confidently got out of the car and made his way inside among the other nervous children all by himself.
All summer he had been informing me that he would not go to first grade and that he would stay in kindergarten indefinitely. When it came down to the do or die moment, however, he showed his bravery. I'm sure the Darth Vader backpack and Justice League lunchbox didn't hurt either.
Baby Girl's big news is that she is officially on the move. Gone are the days of lying on her back unable to escape the mobile monkeys circling her head. I lay her down under the monkeys and she is ten feet away before I make it back to my office chair.
All summer he had been informing me that he would not go to first grade and that he would stay in kindergarten indefinitely. When it came down to the do or die moment, however, he showed his bravery. I'm sure the Darth Vader backpack and Justice League lunchbox didn't hurt either.
Baby Girl's big news is that she is officially on the move. Gone are the days of lying on her back unable to escape the mobile monkeys circling her head. I lay her down under the monkeys and she is ten feet away before I make it back to my office chair.
Daddy's big news is that he is ours once more. For the past few weeks he has been working, sometimes twenty hours a day (he did that five days in a row) on his new projects - a CD of hymns and a CD of worship songs. Tonight is the last night he will not be at home. We have missed him, but we knew our sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. The finished product is incredible.
Sometimes I forget I'm married to such a talented man. I forget that he blows through this shiny piece of metal with all these complicated looking keys and music comes out the other end, music so beautiful anyone lucky enough to hear it is deeply moved from the first note. He can make people laugh and cry and feel real emotions. And the most wonderful effect of all is that it puts babies to sleep. Don't believe me? Give it a try. I've never seen a baby or toddler not enthralled by it. And the peace and calm of it soothes them right to sleep. His music is soothing in a way no words can describe, you have to experience it to understand. And somehow I forget all of this if I go too long without watching him create new music. The best thing about forgetting is that when I do remember, it's a brand new experience every time. I'm star struck all over again.
He has put together two CD's in a few short weeks. From the laid back sounds, you would never guess how quickly they were put together. That just shows how talented Jamie is and how naturally this comes to him. And I need to also mention the other half of the Jamie Reid team, George Hairr, producer extraordinaire. His creativity combined with Jamie's raw talent makes for a musical experience that can't be replicated.
Here is the lineup for the CD of hymns
1. As the Deer
2. Because He Lives
3. Give Me Jesus
4. Blessed Assurance
5. I Surrender All
6. Were You There/At the Cross
7. Jesus Paid It All
8. The Solid Rock
9. Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)
10. I Need Thee Every Hour
And here is the CD of worship songs
1. I Need You
2. How He Loves Us
3. How Beautiful
4. Blessed Be the Name
5. At the Cross
6. All Who Are Thirsty
7. Here I Am to Worship
8. God of Wonders
9. I Can Only Imagine
10. Made Me Glad
My favorites? All of them. A few stand out among the others for me though.
Blessed Assurance. His previous albums Instrumental: A Collection of Hymns and Instrumental: Songs of Worship had what I call the Jamie Reid sound. Both of his new CDs have the same sound, but he took it in a little different direction this time. Blessed Assurance is jazzy sounding. It features a Hammond B3 that gives you a warm, old time churchy feeling. Not my old time church since I grew up Church of Christ, but like the classic church services you see in movies. It's a little more up tempo than his usual relaxing pace, but he still captured his signature laid back sound.
How He Loves Us. I wasn't familiar with this song before he let me listen to his interpretation of it, but the from the first note, I was hooked. I can't get it out of my head. I don't know the words, but I can hear the emotion in his playing and I get what the song's about. I'm a words person, so for him to achieve this is a great feat.
How Beautiful. I have to mention this one because I requested it. Okay, I demanded it. He played this song at our friend's wedding a few years ago and it was so beautifully done it had to be recorded.
I can't wait until this one is available to sell so that people can start hearing the fruits of his labor. I'll be sure to announce it as soon as it is. Until then, you can hear Jamie's past (and equally as special) projects at www.jamiereidmusic.com
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Kids Have Their Own Bedrooms for a Reason
I am pleased to announce that after six years of having at least one child in my bedroom at all times, everyone in my household is now sleeping in his or her own room. And it really wasn't as hard a transition as I anticipated.
We've tried this before. When Brother first made the move to a toddler bed we tried it. We were in our little 778 square foot condo downtown. We were all so close anyway, we thought it would go over pretty well. It didn't. The only way he would fall asleep in his room was if Jamie or I laid on the floor holding his hand until he'd been asleep for a few hours. If he'd only been asleep one hour when we got up, Brother would immediately sit up and start screaming. Once we moved to house #1 we tried it again. This time I tried to include him and tried to encourage some independence. He picked out a bed tent and told me he would sleep in his own room if he had the super cool Lightning McQueen bed tent. Never take a four year old at his word. I'm sure he meant it at the moment, but that first night we put him in the bed/tent, he was velcroed to my leg before I could turn the light off. It was a struggle including many nights of Jamie or me sleeping on the hard floor next to his bed all night long, but he finally started sleeping in his own room on his own. He even let us leave the room while he was awake and fell asleep on his own. One week later the transformer outside his window blew up. Not the cool robot transformer, he would have thought that was awesome, the power transformer bringing power in to the house from the street. It just happened to connect right outside his window. From across the hall Jamie and I saw a blue flash of light and a loud boom. At the same time we heard a toddler's scream and a little boy diving headfirst into my bed. Brother didn't sleep by himself another night in that house.
With all the transition from that house to our new house (we lived in an apartment for a few months in between) we didn't try too hard to get him in his own room. Baby was born in the middle of all of it to add a little more to our plates. (A welcomed side dish.)
Baby was a good sleeper. By about eight weeks she was sleeping most of the night. As soon as we started bragging, she hit a growth spurt and started demanding food every three hours around the clock. The growth spurt passed but she had gotten used to her midnight snacks - both of them. At her latest check up we consulted her doctor and he assured us that she should be able to fast for eight hours and we wouldn't be bad parents if we tried to stretch her feedings out that long at night. Jamie and I shared a look of hope and decided it was time to take our bedroom back.
Baby was easy. We just laid her in bed one night and that was it. We got a really nice camera with great night vision on it. So we could watch her every move. It's very entertaining at times. This morning I watched her pick her head up, look around for her pacifier, pick it up, pop it into her mouth, and go right back to sleep. Even with the camera though, I missed her. I realized part of the reason they both had stayed in my room for so long was because of me and my need to be near them all the time.
Parenting is a complicated dance of constantly wanting to be with your children and constantly wanting your own time and space. When I do have time away from them, I feel guilty for leaving them and longing to be with them again. Letting go is hard. Taking Brother to kindergarten was the same type of feeling. I want him to grow up and become his own person, but I want to keep him with me as my baby too. I was okay with his first day. I didn't even cry. About a week into school on the first day I didn't have to drag him out of my car with the help of the teacher on bus duty, I hugged him and told him I loved him and he took off running. He ran all the way down the long sidewalk and into the school and never looked back, not even a quick over the shoulder glance for his mommy. I cried that day. That was a step towards his independence. Not sleeping on the floor of my bedroom was another step.
Getting brother into his own bed took careful planning. When I first asked him why he didn't want to sleep in his own bed he had a one word answer. Zombies. That might be my fault. He has never seen an actual zombie movie, not even close. The boy is obsessed with Plants vs. Zombies, though. He loves the zombies. He pretends he is a zombie. I thought he could handle the truth, and he caught me off guard. He was firing off questions and I was trying to answer them as honestly as I could in a way he could understand.
"What does Baby say when she sees me play Plants vs. Zombies?"
"What does the Zombie say when the squash jumps on his head?"
"What does sunflower say when the zombie eats him?"
"What's a jalapeno?"
"What's the jalapeno say when he burns the zombies up?"
"What's a zombie?"
I had been doling out answer after answer, some answers were creative and imaginative, some were simply, "I have no idea. What do you think he says?"
But I knew the answer to the zombie question. I didn't have to think about what an inanimate object would say to another inanimate object. "It's when someone dies and then comes back to life, except they only want to eat people's brains."
After that answer, the questions stopped. I looked up. He was still watching his game, but the widened eyes and nervous smile told me I'd crossed the line. Too much honesty from a parent can be just as dangerous as too little honesty. I tried to reassure him. "They're not real. You know that, right?" He shook his head in agreement, but I knew that he didn't believe it. After that he started having occasional nightmares. He would wake up crying and he would tell me he had a bad dream but he wouldn't tell me what it was about. One night he finally told me that it was zombies who were haunting his dreams. Great. I mentally and sarcastically patted myself on the back.
With all of this in mind I approached the subject carefully. I made sure that Brother knew about the revolutionary new zombie resistant paint out on the market. Once the walls are painted, they can't come in the room, they disappear as soon as a toe creeps over the threshold. He hadn't heard about it. Next I let him pick the color. I promised myself I would go with any color he chose. I wanted his room to be his own. So I crossed my fingers hoping he wouldn't say black - the color he usually picks. He chose gray so that it would look like the Death Star. I could live with gray. That's all it took. One creative lie and a little control over the design.
The first night, I laid down with him. He pretended we were inside the Death Star. He threw his arms around me and said, "I love you so much, Mommy. Can we sleep inside the Death Star every night?" I answered with an emphatic yes.
We've tried this before. When Brother first made the move to a toddler bed we tried it. We were in our little 778 square foot condo downtown. We were all so close anyway, we thought it would go over pretty well. It didn't. The only way he would fall asleep in his room was if Jamie or I laid on the floor holding his hand until he'd been asleep for a few hours. If he'd only been asleep one hour when we got up, Brother would immediately sit up and start screaming. Once we moved to house #1 we tried it again. This time I tried to include him and tried to encourage some independence. He picked out a bed tent and told me he would sleep in his own room if he had the super cool Lightning McQueen bed tent. Never take a four year old at his word. I'm sure he meant it at the moment, but that first night we put him in the bed/tent, he was velcroed to my leg before I could turn the light off. It was a struggle including many nights of Jamie or me sleeping on the hard floor next to his bed all night long, but he finally started sleeping in his own room on his own. He even let us leave the room while he was awake and fell asleep on his own. One week later the transformer outside his window blew up. Not the cool robot transformer, he would have thought that was awesome, the power transformer bringing power in to the house from the street. It just happened to connect right outside his window. From across the hall Jamie and I saw a blue flash of light and a loud boom. At the same time we heard a toddler's scream and a little boy diving headfirst into my bed. Brother didn't sleep by himself another night in that house.
With all the transition from that house to our new house (we lived in an apartment for a few months in between) we didn't try too hard to get him in his own room. Baby was born in the middle of all of it to add a little more to our plates. (A welcomed side dish.)
Baby was a good sleeper. By about eight weeks she was sleeping most of the night. As soon as we started bragging, she hit a growth spurt and started demanding food every three hours around the clock. The growth spurt passed but she had gotten used to her midnight snacks - both of them. At her latest check up we consulted her doctor and he assured us that she should be able to fast for eight hours and we wouldn't be bad parents if we tried to stretch her feedings out that long at night. Jamie and I shared a look of hope and decided it was time to take our bedroom back.
Baby was easy. We just laid her in bed one night and that was it. We got a really nice camera with great night vision on it. So we could watch her every move. It's very entertaining at times. This morning I watched her pick her head up, look around for her pacifier, pick it up, pop it into her mouth, and go right back to sleep. Even with the camera though, I missed her. I realized part of the reason they both had stayed in my room for so long was because of me and my need to be near them all the time.
Parenting is a complicated dance of constantly wanting to be with your children and constantly wanting your own time and space. When I do have time away from them, I feel guilty for leaving them and longing to be with them again. Letting go is hard. Taking Brother to kindergarten was the same type of feeling. I want him to grow up and become his own person, but I want to keep him with me as my baby too. I was okay with his first day. I didn't even cry. About a week into school on the first day I didn't have to drag him out of my car with the help of the teacher on bus duty, I hugged him and told him I loved him and he took off running. He ran all the way down the long sidewalk and into the school and never looked back, not even a quick over the shoulder glance for his mommy. I cried that day. That was a step towards his independence. Not sleeping on the floor of my bedroom was another step.
Getting brother into his own bed took careful planning. When I first asked him why he didn't want to sleep in his own bed he had a one word answer. Zombies. That might be my fault. He has never seen an actual zombie movie, not even close. The boy is obsessed with Plants vs. Zombies, though. He loves the zombies. He pretends he is a zombie. I thought he could handle the truth, and he caught me off guard. He was firing off questions and I was trying to answer them as honestly as I could in a way he could understand.
"What does Baby say when she sees me play Plants vs. Zombies?"
"What does the Zombie say when the squash jumps on his head?"
"What does sunflower say when the zombie eats him?"
"What's a jalapeno?"
"What's the jalapeno say when he burns the zombies up?"
"What's a zombie?"
I had been doling out answer after answer, some answers were creative and imaginative, some were simply, "I have no idea. What do you think he says?"
But I knew the answer to the zombie question. I didn't have to think about what an inanimate object would say to another inanimate object. "It's when someone dies and then comes back to life, except they only want to eat people's brains."
After that answer, the questions stopped. I looked up. He was still watching his game, but the widened eyes and nervous smile told me I'd crossed the line. Too much honesty from a parent can be just as dangerous as too little honesty. I tried to reassure him. "They're not real. You know that, right?" He shook his head in agreement, but I knew that he didn't believe it. After that he started having occasional nightmares. He would wake up crying and he would tell me he had a bad dream but he wouldn't tell me what it was about. One night he finally told me that it was zombies who were haunting his dreams. Great. I mentally and sarcastically patted myself on the back.
With all of this in mind I approached the subject carefully. I made sure that Brother knew about the revolutionary new zombie resistant paint out on the market. Once the walls are painted, they can't come in the room, they disappear as soon as a toe creeps over the threshold. He hadn't heard about it. Next I let him pick the color. I promised myself I would go with any color he chose. I wanted his room to be his own. So I crossed my fingers hoping he wouldn't say black - the color he usually picks. He chose gray so that it would look like the Death Star. I could live with gray. That's all it took. One creative lie and a little control over the design.
The first night, I laid down with him. He pretended we were inside the Death Star. He threw his arms around me and said, "I love you so much, Mommy. Can we sleep inside the Death Star every night?" I answered with an emphatic yes.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
The Ever Elusive Me Time
Me time.
What does it mean? I used to think it meant doing what I wanted to do. Over the years it has evolved into any second I can actually be alone. Being an introvert in an extrovert world can be quite tiring. And with two children who need my constant love and attention, alone time is a rare gem that I have to track down and dig for hours to catch a glimpse of. In a family with two artsy parents who need time to create, whatever free time existed is cut in half, and those halves aren't always cut evenly.
For the past week of so Jamie has been working on a new project. It is the next installment of his Instrumental series of hymns and worship songs. Needless to say all of the time lately has gone to him. And I'm surprisingly not jealous.
Before I discovered how much I like writing, I often wondered (OK, I complained about it) why my life's purpose couldn't be as clear as Jamie's. If you've ever heard Jamie play, you know what I mean. If you haven't follow the link in this shameless plug.
Instead of getting jealous, I tried to learn from him. I think we all have something we do better than anything else. It was hard for me to figure it out because I have a lot of interests, and I'm pretty good at most of them. Figuring out which one rose one tick mark above the others in an imaginary bar graph was hard. I was looking for something big and bold, the thing that would single me out and shine the spotlight my way. When I still came up blank, I figured out that a talent doesn't have to be a performing act. It was then I finally saw that my purpose was just as obvious as Jamie's, only more behind the scenes.
My purpose is to help Jamie in his purpose. I know it sounds like a cop out, trying to piggyback on his talent, but it's not. I am very arts oriented, but I also love numbers and have a special place in my heart for spreadsheets. It's a strange combination that makes me an atypical accountant. In the early days of our marriage my purpose included working a reliable job and using my talents in spreadsheets to manage our family finances so that he could find time and resources to be a working musician. Now that we have children, my purpose duties have grown to include managing the kids and keeping everything running when he works on music.
He can't focus and be in the right frame of mind if he knows we're all falling apart here at the house. It's a hard job, but somebody's got to do it. And I'm glad that that someone is me. I love to hold his CD in my hand and know that I helped. I'm the little girl who poured the Shake and Bake into the bag and claimed that I helped make dinner. The contribution may be small, but it's important. After all, what would chicken be if you just shook it by itself in the bag?
My talents are not as noticed as the beautiful and inspired music that comes from my husband, but I still get to be part of something beautiful through him. And truthfully, I'd rather be behind the scenes anyway. Who needs the spotlight. Plus, I get to have two purposes - supporting and writing. And I'm really looking forward to my own me time once his project is complete.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
10 Things I Learned on Vacation
2. Wear sunscreen. We did really well on the sunscreen front this time. No one got burnt. I didn't get noticeably tanner, but you have to pick your battles. Brother, on the other hand, with his Guatemalan roots turned a nice dark caramel color. And of course Baby is already as dark as she can get.
3. Go ahead and spring for the pricey beach chair rental. We got the padded wooden beach chairs and the umbrella. We debated but we were very glad we did. There was already so much to carry - the beach bag, all the baby gear, beach towels, the giant blow up dolphin float... Side note: brother has been obsessed with plants vs zombies lately which features a diver zombie and a dolphin zombie on the pool stage. Brother had to have the goggles and snorkel and the giant dolphin float so he could be a zombie on the beach. With all that gear we were glad to not also have to carry our own chairs and an umbrella. And an umbrella is a must for a baby on the beach.
4. Always take someone with you if you have kids. There were so many times when we wanted to go walk on the beach after the kids finally fell asleep. Can't exactly leave a 6 year old in charge of a 6 month old though. Next time we will strategically invite friends who wouldn't mind a little babysitting now and then.
5. Don't make any solid plans in advance. In Florida if its raining just wait a few seconds. It doesn't last long. You never know when those brief showers will pop up, though, so keep your plans flexible and you won't be disappointed.
6. Don't wash the brand new cheap beach towels with the white hotel towels. I think this one is self explanatory. I've never seen items go in so white and then come out so red. The resort was very understanding though and in sure they had a laugh at our expense after we left.
7. Make lasting memories by getting dirty in the sand. Your kids will remember. Jamie and I both took turns making sand castles and digging and covering ourselves head to toe in sand. Maddox was right there getting dirty with us.
8. Eat where the locals eat. This is my favorite one. Jamie and I love to research restaurants beforehand to find the little unique restaurants you have to know someone to know about. Let me just say that I ate my weight in oysters.
10. Nobody's gonna clean your house while you're gone. That was a sad lesson to learn.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Baby Girl's Story Part 4 of 4
Our marriage has an amazing quality: it bounces. Jamie and I are separately very happy-go-lucky, generally laid back people (him more so than me) and together those qualities are multiplied. We have faced many different types of adversity in the time we’ve been together and we always come out the other side intact and stronger than before. So although the failed adoption kicked our feet out from under us, we knew we would keep going. We knew there was a baby out there for us, and we knew that no matter when we moved forward on it she would find her way to us. So we decided to be still, and work on healing.
A few months later we got another call from our Tennessee agency. There was another birth mother and father coming in to look at profiles. They were pregnant with an African American girl, and they chose to meet with us and one other family. That time Jamie and I were a little jaded to the process. We were still hurt from the previous attempt. We were very calm going into the meeting. We had already discussed that we wouldn’t worry so much about winning them over. We would just be ourselves and give a true representation of who we are and what life would be like with us as parents. We met them in lobby on the way in and by the time we were sitting down with them we were all laughing and enjoying each other’s company. We all told stories about our families and found a lot of similarities in the way we grew up. Especially with our birth mother and Jamie. They both grew up eating the same things in the country.
It’s kind of like finding love. Before you’ve experienced it, you don’t know what it is and may think you’ve found it when it’s not even close. Then when you find real love it smacks you in the face, and you say, “Oh.” Some people find love without having to try too hard. I had to have my heart broken a few times before I figured it out. And the same is true of my adoption experience I had to have my heart broken before I could really understand what it felt like to meet the real mother of my baby. The only thing I was worried about was showing her just how much I loved her, even though we’d just met, and scaring her off. I did (and do) love her though. I knew she was going to change my life and give me something I could never have on my own.
They loved us back. I’m not sure when they actually decided that they were choosing us, but after talking with them for an hour or so they told us. And to seal the deal she handed me ultrasound pictures of a tiny baby. Jamie and I were in shock from that moment until we were halfway home. We kept looking at each other and asking, “Did that really happen?” and, “Could it be that simple? It just felt too…right.”
We felt a lot more secure in their decision than we had in the previous possibility, but we chose not to make the information public yet. We liked keeping it between us and the key people in our lives (family, close friends, and work – to prepare for time off). We got to spend some more time with the birth parents and got to know them more. The more time we spent with them, the more we liked them. She was even going to let me be in the room with her when she gave birth. I had never dreamed that I would be able to be in a hospital room when my baby was born. Even though it wouldn’t be me in the bed, I was thrilled.
We debated on what to name her. The first time around we had chosen Mia, and the birth mother chose the middle name of Olivia. It hurt to think of naming another baby Mia. It felt like I was just swapping out babies like we had swapped out Brother’s beta fish: Optimus Prime, Optimus Prime #2, Optimus Prime #3… At the same time, Mia was my name that I chose for my baby.
We asked Brother what he wanted to name the baby and he said, “Mia.”
We said, “No, that was the other baby’s name. We need to pick out a new name.”
He shook his head incredulously. “My sister’s name is Mia.”
It’s hard to argue with the logic of a five year old. Her name would be Mia. (Mee-yah)
Somehow in the middle of all of this, we decided to build a new house. Our old house – that we loved – was just that, old. We had taken on the project of remodeling it, along with my dad. We were making progress on it, but we realized that it would never end. We would always have to spend all our money on keeping it up and we would always have to spend all of our time working on it. With a new baby coming, we wanted to free up our schedule a bit so we would be able to enjoy the family we’d worked so hard to build. So we put our house on the market and started building a new house.
We didn’t have much trouble selling our house, we had a contract on it in less than a week. We were hesitant to count our chicken that wasn’t fully hatched though. Our history with buying and selling houses has more bumps than our history of trying to add children to our family. We’d had contracts on other houses before that never panned out. We’d started building two houses that we never got to move into. We knew better than to count on it. After the contract came the inspections and then more inspections. It was an old house and the buyers wanted to be thorough. We finally had a closing date. We signed our papers, but our buyers had a death in the family and couldn’t do their part. They had to mail the signing packet to them so they could sign. There was a lot of confusion and we didn’t know if or when our house would actually close. This wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but we needed the money from the house to finish paying for baby’s adoption.
We hadn’t planned on making the ten hour drive to North Carolina for Christmas that year. The baby was due the second week of January, and I had a feeling she would come early. (Maybe I just really wanted to hold her as soon as possible.) The week before Christmas Jamie’s grandfather died. There wasn’t a question on whether we would go to the funeral; we would. The question was to drive ten hours or fly for less than two. We decided to fly so we could get there and back quicker in case we needed to rush home for the baby.
The funeral was on a Friday. It was good, if funerals can be good. There was closure happening and family coming together. There was sadness, but there was peace in it. Afterwards the entire family went back to Jamie’s grandfather’s house to eat. We were all spending time together, visiting with cousins and nieces and nephews, some I had never met. We started sharing the story of our Christmas miracle that was waiting for us at home. Everyone was so excited for the possibility of a new baby in the family. Jamie’s sister and I had gone out earlier that day and jokingly said that once we got to the point where we couldn’t get an earlier flight out, our birth mother would go into labor.
A wise person once told me that the Lord doesn’t always work quickly but he always works suddenly. Our flight was to leave Saturday at 6:00 p.m. Friday night right after the only flight earlier than ours, Jamie got a call. Our house had finally closed and our money would be in our account on Monday. During that call, someone called through. It was the adoption agency saying our birth mother was in labor.
We were trying to think of how to get home. We’d flown so we didn’t even have our car to drive. We thought about renting a car or borrowing one. Papa jumped in and just said, “Let’s go. Road trip.” So at 10:00 p.m. Me, Jamie, Brother, Papa, and Mimi all piled into Papa’s car. We all took turns driving and Maddox slept flopping his head from shoulder to shoulder depending on who was next to him in the back seat. There was snow in the mountains so we decided to take the south loop through Atlanta. We couldn’t chance getting stuck in a blizzard; there were babies to be held. Well, one baby for me to hold anyway. While we were passing through Augusta, Georgia, at around 1:45 a.m. my phone rang. It was the birth father. Our baby had arrived. He let me hear her cry into the phone. She was minutes old.
We finally made it to the hospital around 7:00 a.m. and went straight to the nursery. We saw her through the glass. She was tiny. They had her bundled up tight and in a couple of blankets so it was hard to tell just how tiny she was. We just saw a little round head covered in straight black hair and a tiny red bow on top. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her. When I unwrapped her I saw just how tiny she was. 4 lbs 6 ounces, 17.25 inches long. No one could understand from the pictures just how tiny she was, so we took this picture for comparison.
We all fell in love with her immediately. She was my Christmas miracle. We even brought her home on Christmas Eve.
I wrote in an earlier post that an adoptive parent should protect their children's stories because it's their stories to share. It's more than that though. It's a story shared by the child and their birth parents. The details represent the special bond between baby and her birth mother and father, and that is something that is precious and not to be disturbed. I love my children's birth parents for the brave decisions they made and for the heartache they endured (and maybe still endure) so that I can have a family. It is the greatest sacrifice anyone has ever made for me or for my children and it's a beautiful thing. Out of their great pain, I was given life and love.I can't wait for my children to grow to an age where they can understand how beautiful and love-filled the process is so that I can share this with them.
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