Adjusted Expectations

Scootle busy working on this year's valentines in 2012

Last year, I had big plans for homemade Valentine cards.  I had been a mom for a little over two years then (what a novice, pffft!) and still didn't have a good handle on what projects were doable with two kids, 2.5 years apart.  I have blocked out the details, but lets just say that I did what I NEVER thought I'd do, I sent the kids to school with BOUGHT cards (gasp!).  Little did I know that I was actually doing a VERY DOABLE project, it's just that my timeline was off.  We embarked on a very doable, two year valentine card making project.

 This year, it was a piece of cake.  I pulled out my handy-dandy box full of cut pink and red card-stock and random cute valentine cut-outs the boys and I worked so hard on last year.  I sat the boys down for an assembly line a lovely afternoon of crafting, with threats against taking away their play time romantic music playing.  I barked out gently showed them how to glue!  stamp!  write names!  It was actually kind of fun, but crazy.  Rather than some idyllic craft time with my kids, they were moving so fast so they could go play that I could hardly keep up with them.  It's a wonder they didn't glue the whole house down just so they could hurry up and play.

Speed stamping

Speed name writing

After gluing these last ones down, he ran out of the room!

I am not as crafty with my kids as I thought I would be.  I thought I'd be more like my mom.  I have so many memories of being crafty with my mom.  She is really creative and was able to make a lot with little while I was growing up.  I would love to involve my kids in crafts, but I have also learned (now that I am a wise mother of three years) to adjust my expectations.  I have already started brainstorming next year's valentine's project and it is a little less involved.   I am also trying to be more realistic, realizing my childhood memories are mostly snapshots of highlights.  It's not as if we were crafting every day (right mom?).  There were a whole lot of just plain, average days in between.  And even though they will remember the snapshots, I think it is the every day routines and structure that will nurture them most into who they are going to be.

A sample of the two year cards

* The sample above is so misleading!  Unfortunately, the Valentine cards are already being delivered at school, so I can't go take a picture of some of my favorites.  They have cut-outs of things like a boy in cool shoes, a popsicle, leaves, birth announcement advertisements, etc. 

Tonsils, Who Needs Them?

So, I had a tonsillectomy Thursday.  It is supposed to be pretty horrid for adults.  Not the eat-ice-cream-after-the-procedure you hear about with kids.  I had been pretty scared of the surgery given all of the horror stories out there.  Add kids to the mixture and the whole thing sounded like a nightmare.  I think I took all of the precautions I could and accepted all of the help offered and so far, it has not been so bad.  Bill worked from home Thurs and Fri.  We had a friend bring dinner (for the guys since I could not eat) Thurs night.  My mom was going to come stay with us for the weekend, but got kidney stones instead (pobrecita)!   But Bill's mom arrived today and a good friend delivered a meal for us.

Except for a very gross and painful throat....I will spare you the details... This really hasn't been that bad.  I did a lot of preparation for the surgery ... bought myself lots of liquids for post-op (I have lost three pounds so far because I can't really eat),  I took homeopathic meds for a week before surgery (arnica montana), and for the first time ever in my life, I was hypnotized to prepare my body for the welcomed invasion.

This post has no point really, but it is a reminder to myself for if ever I am sick or just in over my head.  Accept the help.  Do not feel guilty for lying on the couch and reading all day.  Take the time you need to heal or deal, whatever the case may be.  People depend on you, but can also function without you.  It is okay to take care of yourself.

Ode to My Sons

I was at a women's retreat with my church last weekend.  At some point we were gently told to go and write a poem, an "ode" to something.  Ha!  I thought.  I am going to my room to take a nap in this cozy house by the ocean.  Nobody can make me write a poem!  Nobody can tell me what to do!

The funny thing is, I went straight to my room, picked up my journal and blanket and walked out onto the deck.  The direct way that my body moved, even though my brain was on its little rebellion was almost comical.   I sat on a chair, all wrapped up, with the sound of the ocean lulling me on and put pen to paper.  This is what came out.  I am no poet, this is not meant to be a work of art.  But I felt a huge relief as I put words to what has happened to me in the course of the last three years.  Turns out my body knows what I need to do sometimes even if I don't.
 

Ode to My Sons

Somewhere in my fight to keep myself

I realized that the self I clung to was no longer me.

The me I have found is both less static and more whole.

There was really no need for such a tight grip.

You changed me.

You, in your funny little ways,

Lightened my heavy load.

What I feared had taken my life away from me

Gave me my life back

Only with more laughter, lightheartedness and flow.

Sometimes, You Have to Get Down (Follow-up)

If my Sometimes, You Have to Get Down post resonated with you and if you have 20 minutes, this is really worth watching.   Brene Brown is a researcher who has studied vulnerability and also struggled with the implications she found in her research.   She is a great story-teller.  One of the gems I take away from this talk is that we cannot selectively numb emotion.   When I eat or nap or watch a rom-com in order to numb the pain in my life, I also numb joy, gratitude, love and other positive emotions.  That describes the last few years of my life with crazy precision.   Makes me sad.

Another gem:  Wholehearted people are willing to let go of who they thought they should be in order to be themselves.   I probably need to get off this computer and just go journal for a couple of hours about this one.  I remember being in grad school about a decade ago and having a very strong picture of who I was going to be in the world.  In short, it involved being a "strong woman" (whatever hell that meant to an inexperienced 26 year old), with a world-saving career (never really thought about how children would fit into that picture), with amazing depth and spirituality, in an awesome marriage (again, what the h*** does a 26 year old single woman know about that?) and with a gorgeous body (!!!).   A decade later, I am realizing just how short I fall from being that super-woman.  I was on the superwoman trajectory for a while, but my picture was falling apart at the edges.  Then came two boys, who spilled stuff on that fraying picture right from the start.  It was unrecognizable at about day two of being a parent.  I was never going to be that picture.  What I am is imperfect me.  If I could only convince myself that that is enough. 

Fresh Air ...

A few moments alone.  No one in the house but me.  Windows open.   And reminders of the fullness of my life.  Borrowed crib waiting to be returned.  Children grow.  The windows open and the fresh air.  Seasons change.  The toy kitchen set aside for a while.  The cycles.  The faithful dog, wanting to share my space.  The quiet returns temporarily.  Time to journal.  Time to pray.  In my favorite corner of the house that I have claimed.  It brings me peace. I light my candle, reflect on my life and also try to think of people outside of myself.  Perspective.  And the beginning to another day.

I want to thank everyone for your comments on my last post.  You lifted me. 

Sometimes, You Have to Get Down

If you are looking for a post about dancing, you might want to stop reading.  Because this post is not about dancing at all.  It is about real stuff - consider yourself warned, dear reader.  You don't have to keep reading at all.

Last week, I started cutting back my caloric intake.  Way back.  I noticed a pattern that happens whenever I try to get back into shape.  I become incredibly, emotional.  For me, cutting calories had the side effect of making me sad, weepy and depressed.  I saw my therapist and mentioned this to her.  She turned my perception on its head and catapulted me on a journey that I am trying to gather the courage to stay on.  She suggested that since I have the history of self-medicating with food, that perhaps the feelings I am feeling have been there all along.  Perhaps these feelings are true feelings that I've been pushing down with food and not merely a side effect of taking in less calories. 

What she said rung so true to me that I have been trying to let myself get down, feel down so that I can try to figure out the source of these feelings.  It is no fun.  I feel a deep sadness and I cannot really put my finger on it.  Some things have bubbled up to the surface and I hope that in time, I will have a fuller picture of why I feel such melancholia.

In addition to cutting calories, I have also started to pray again.  What was once such a big part of my life has been left on the sidelines during the time that I most needed it, the almost three years now since we've had our children.  It strikes me that I turned to prayer for more balance and wholeness, but along with the calorie thing, it has actually led to my feeling more imbalanced and fragmented.   But I have trust.  I trust that going down this path will be good in the long run.  But right now, I feel like yuck. 

Motherhood (alongside the motherhood of my friends) has been a deeply lonely time for me.  You young children take so much of your time and energy, that you have precious few hours and precious little energy to nurture your relationships.  Rarely do free time and enough energy coincide into that moment where you can really make a connection with someone else, or even with yourself.

I don't just miss other people, I also miss ME.  What happened to that person who used to blog and journal?  The one who felt halfway interesting?  I feel so bored and boring now in the midst of my 15 weekly trips to drop off/pick up kids from school, my endless loads of laundry, my endless pleas for better behavior, my countless trips to the park, my trips to the grocery store, and even reading those cute books OVER and OVER to my beautiful boys. You have to admit, motherhood has an element of BOREDOM.  Yes, it is amazing to see your children grow and blossom yadda, yadda, yadda, but it is also boring and tedious.  

My life is a good one.  I love it.  I have been gifted beyond imagining.  But deep down, there is some despair, some sadness and I wish I could understand it.  I think it includes loneliness, disconnection, boredom, a general feeling of being unappreciated and of being spent.  But I have the suspicion it includes more than that.  I am tired of eating these feelings down.  The more I face these emotions rising in me, the less I want those extra calories.  I really want to get to the other side of this (whatever that may mean), free to live my range of emotions without feeling I have to medicate somehow.  I know I will be a better parent and person for it, closer to my true self.

I am contemplating whether or not I will actually publish this blog post but  reaching out seems to be an important part of my working through whatever this is.  Perhaps you feel some of these things?  The friends I once had on my emotional speed dial now have busy lives.  I think of calling one, but she has moved far away.  I think of calling another, but she has her own problems.  I think of this other gem of a friend and think she has so much going on in her life.  Then there is the friend who disappeared about two years ago, whom I miss very much.  And I wonder, did she disappear because I called her with too many problems?  I could go on and on with excuses for not reaching out personally.  And I stay in my little corner, feeling lonely, with the sneaky suspicion that some of my friends are lonely, too.  Perhaps making the same excuses.

As if on cue, I hear Bill and the boys coming up the driveway, back from the park.  Onto baths, hair day, dinner and books.  And now that I've aired some emotional laundry, that routine actually sounds good. 

I Can Do Three - Bwuahahahaha!!!!!

You'd think I've learned this lesson, but apparently, I HAVE NOT!  The lesson is this: as soon as you start feeling good about any aspect of parenting, your children will bring you down to your knees, begging for mercy for EVER thinking you had any aspect of their nurture and care figured out.  They are complex beings, dang it!  They smell confidence and then they SQUISH it.    

Tonight is the first night in more than a week that Boo-boo is going to bed without a fight. Actually,  EVERYTHING has been a fight, since he turned 3 last Sunday.  We have been living in a constant string of dramatic episodes.  The day is beginning?  Boo decides to wake the entire house by screaming "DADDY!!!!!!!!!!  DADDY!!!!!!!!!!" one hour before anyone is due to wake up.  Would you like to hear today, my dear Boo?  May I put your ears on?  "NOOOOOOO   EARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  Time for breakfast?  Not without crocodile tears and a tantrum.   Let's get changed for your appointment.   Thank you for cooperating.  Last step, shoes and socks.  "NOOOOOOOO  SOCKS!  NO SOCKS!  NO SOCKS!!!!" I find myself holding my breath around him, hoping not to set him off.  Pointless.  Everything sets him off.  DAMN if you do, DAMN if you don't.   

Living like this for a week has short-circuited my brain ... I can't finish any thoughts!   I have been roaming around my house like a zombie.  Care for child, prepare for insults and drama, have a little spat, do a household chore, referee sibling screaming match, check Facebook, repeat.   

As I write this, the boys' African Lullabies CD has ended.  No one is yelling for me to put on "MORE NOONIC (music), PLEASE!"  Bill is in the other room and I want to go and do a cheer because this is the first normal night in I don't know how long.   But I won't.  I will humbly remember my state as servant.  I will not allow myself a little celebration, lest my children decide to put me in my place.   

September 18th is the day ...

... that my eyes first saw my boys two years ago in two small photos.  It was such an overwhelming day.  An amazing day.  After so much waiting, life kicked up its pace and has not since slowed down.  Becoming a mom has exposed my inner self - its all been laid out for the world to see.  It has been humbling.  It has also opened up a well, a deep well of crazy love for my Scootle and my Boo.  They undo me - completely - in every sense of the word.

I stroked their cheeks as they slept tonight and the thought came to me, "these are the ones you waited for."  I smiled.  These are the ones I waited for.  I would wait a million years for them.

Prayers As of Late

These days, my prayers constantly vacillate from one form or another of these two basic prayers:

1. Lord, what the ***** were you thinking?  I am not a good parent for this particular child!!!  How on earth did you think this was a good idea?  I am losing it and I need help!   (Shakes fist at the heavens)   
2. God, thank you, thank you, thank you that I get to parent these two particular little people.  They are so sweet, so fun, so delightful.  I am overwhelmed with gratitude and humility that I get to be their mommy.  (Sigh, love, love, love, sigh....)

Can you guess which one I was uttering when I took this picture?

"I Honor You"

We have had an interesting relationship with a little private Montessori school in town.  I found this school last Spring, when I was looking for a place to send Boo to for a couple of days a week.  I fell in love with the school.  It is the only high quality pre-school I found that accepted ABC vouchers, so the population is economically diverse, in addition to being racially diverse.  The director is an African-American woman with beautiful natural hair, a love for the arts and a passion to serve her community.  I wanted so badly to enroll Boo there for this Fall.  Unfortunately, he had to be put on a waiting list.  He and I spent about two hours there on our first visit - the teachers and director fell in love with him. 

A few weeks later, a spot did come available for Boo, but I chickened out.  I turned it down.  He would have had to start immediately and I was just not ready to let him go to school that soon.  I felt badly for begging for a spot only to say no when it became available.

Come summer, we decided to let Scootle go there for three mornings a week.  Since he loved his (public) Montessori school, we figured this would be a great way to keep up his learning during the summer while giving me a break from having two kids at home.  He kicked and screamed on the first day.  He absolutely did not want to go.  We were surprised at this behavior, since his first day of school last Fall had been such a great success.  Oh well, we figured we would keep trying and that he would eventually get used to it.  He did not.  He threw an incredible tantrum every time we dropped him off.  His teachers were sweet, he was learning African drumming and dancing.  He reported having a great time every day when we picked him up, but we still had the morning drama.  The drama actually started at dinner every night, "I don't want to go to that school."  We were puzzled.  He was very loved there, but for whatever reason, it brought out raw fear and anxiety in him. 

After a month, we realized this was absolutely not worth it.   Apologetically, I spoke with the director and had to end our contract mid-summer.  But I had started to change my mind about Boo.  It seemed that sending him to school in the Fall was actually going to be good idea.  A spot had opened up for three mornings per week.  I was elated.  I took the spot and was looking forward to having both boys in school (at least for three mornings), looking forward to having a little time to myself.

But as July rolled around, our little family fell into an amazing groove.  We had one and a half years of being a family behind us.  We were starting to enjoy one another in a whole different way.  I finally felt a deep satisfaction with being a mom, a feeling that I could actually pull this off.  And I started thinking about sending Boo to school in the Fall. 

He is only two years and 4 months old!  I am only working on a very part time basis, so I am home.  He is still my baby!  How could I send my baby to school 3 mornings a week while I am home?  I counted up the days of the week:  3 mornings of school + 1 morning of speech therapy only left me with one morning a week alone with Boo.  I could not bear it!  I love time alone with him and am just not ready to give that up.  AND, we would be spending a fortune to send him to school.  He will have the option of going to a special class for children with cochlear implants as soon as he turns three in April (which we think will be good for him, as it will prepare him to enter regular kindergarten).  I wanted all the mornings I could get with him before he started school for the rest of him foreseeable future.

But I was mortified to go back to the Director of the little school once again, changing my plans, backing off from my committment.  She was such a neat lady, someone I want to be friends with.  I felt terrible.  I felt like such a wishy-washy parent.  I wrote her a letter and hoped she would not be there when I dropped it off.  To my dismay, she was there.  I could barely look her in the eye when I told her of our change of plans.  This was a small school and I knew she and the teachers depended on the enrollment to keep the school going. 

Her reaction totally surprised and delighted me.  She told me first of all that she honored my decision, that she respected it as a parent and that she herself had felt conflicted about sending her kids to school for the first time.  She said she doesn't get stressed out about enrollment because she trusts her "source" and that she believes everything will work out as it should for every child, every family and for her school.  She said she sees a lot of judging when it comes to parenting and that she wants to honor each parent's decisions.

I have only been a parent for 1.5 years.  I have seen and experienced a lot of judging already!  I also am a harsh critic of myself.  What would it be like if we all as parents took this wonderful woman's example and honored one another's decisions, honored our own decisions instead of judging them? 

I honor you.

Stay Tuned for: Summer of Unbroken Bones (we hope)

It is so funny to hear/read of mothers everywhere who sound soooo excited about summer.  For me, summer=bummer.  Period.  Lest you have just joined my adventure, let me remind you that last summer was my first summer as a mother of two.  I had no experience in motherhood and it was kicking my butt.  So, I kicked back early in the year, which left me a little wimpy for a while.  As summer approached, I learned of this. My world turned upside down and my stress levels went through the roof.  I caved, or the floor caved, whatever.  It was just what I needed as we prepared for the hardest day I have faced thus far as a parent.  Are you getting the picture?  Last summer was beyond awful.  Add to that our city's unbearable heat and humidity in the summer and I was one hot-headed, explosive mama.

So there has been a lot of anxiety and trepidation on my end about this summer.  A LOT.  I talked to anyone who would listen about it, I lost some sleep, I tossed around option after option and have finally made a decision.  Instead of sending Scootle-doot to an expensive, private (albeit wonderful) Montessori school for 3 mornings a week, he is going to stay home.  This summer is not last summer.  I think I can do this.  We will have a babysitter for one morning a week.   Every other Friday, I will have the day to myself, thanks to a friend child-swap situation I was so thankful to be offered (wee!!!).  The summer is also peppered with little trip here, friends visits there, Grammy's house here, Bill family week at a beach house there, mini family trip to Tampa here and an entire week of vacation Bible school at church, where both boys are busy every morning without me.  This summer might actually be doable.  It started yesterday and so far so good. 

My goals this summer can be summarized by photos of this morning:

I think I can, I think I can .... this was hard with two big boys!  I want to lose weight and get in shape, which I have already started making strides towards, thankfully! 

I want to stop and enjoy the scenery, this magical stage of my life.

I want to get closer to him.

I want to focus on his getting his speech level higher and higher.

I want to give the boys lots of opportunities to explore...

and explore some more.

I want to soak up every last bit of baby left in him.

For my sanity, I will blog about this summer, this summer of unbroken bones (we hope).  I think it has the potential to do wonders towards my mama self-confidence and towards my relationship with my boys.  Wish me well!  And I wish all you other mamas a wonderful summer, as well.  We can do it.

On Scootle-Doot

 

Scootle-Doot was having trouble sleeping tonight so I went to scratch his back.  He fell asleep quickly and I stayed, thinking about him.  It is so easy for us to get frustrated with our very "spirited" child.  He is loud, he asks A LOT of questions which lead only to more questions, he is persistent, he notices EVERYTHING, he can throw one hell of a tantrum and he wants things his way always.  I am very aware that this is all very typical of 4 year olds.  Scootle just seems to do it with an art.  And, he is OUR 4 year old, our joy, our challenge (on many days).  But as I sat beside this beautiful sleeping boy, I though about the fact that he is 4.  Only 4.  He has had so many different living situations, has adapted so well.  He has accepted life as it has come at him.  And life surely has come at him hard.  Where Boo-boo has now lived with us for more than half of his life, Scootle will be with us another year before that is so.  More than half of his life were lived in a reality we know very little about and yet here he is, part of our family.  Who wouldn't tantrum or question or resist?   

He dictated a very sweet mother's day message to me and chose a lovely card with flowers on it.  Even though what is written here betrays his much better control of the English language, his sentiments are sweet and it is funny to see how his mind works:  It said:

Dear Mommy,


Happy Birthday.  I love mommy - giving us a hug and you bring us back.  You get and I love you and you love me back and you bring me to park.  I love you so much.


"Scootle-Doot"

I'd like to write him back:

Dear Scootle,

I love you so dearly.  I love how you are able to get lost in play for hours.  Your imaginary conversations, your songs, your drawings, your pretend classroom - you in your zone is a wonder to see. 

Just today, you asked me, "Mommy, why you have two boys and not one boy and one girl?"  Oh, my sweet, how that question agonized me when I got your referral.  But the thought of not having you or your brother, my two boys, pierces me.  I am very comfortable on this mother's day to be a mother to two boys.  It has become part of me.

My two boys

I love the mother's day card you gave me, because you remember the little things we do like hugging and going to the park.  Little things, when they are with you, really are that much more special.  Forgive me for not remembering more often how important the little things are.


You have a beautiful soul, my son, and you are so open to the world, so inquisitive.  I hope that my impatience and frustrations don't take away that beauty.  Keep asking questions, I will try to answer.  Keep asking me to pick you up when it is not convenient for me, I probably need the affection, too.  Keep fighting for what you want, it is a good character.  Keep learning at breathtaking speed, the world is out there for you to know.  Keep calling out when you can't sleep, so I can come and scratch your back.

I love you so, my beautiful child.

Mommy 

Unexpected Tenderness

My sweet, wonderful, talented Bill has gotten an opportunity to go to South Africa for 10 days.  I am so proud of him.  He left this morning.  This is the longest any of us will be apart since being a family of four.  I have been a little nervous about 10 days of solo mom (lowering my head in embarrassment before all single moms out there).  I have been especially nervous because, let's face it, I get anxious and angry easily - something I'd been able to hide for years by spending time in solitude and meditation, which now, are, of course, absolutely, gone from my life.  Anyhoo, I don't want to get snotty with my rambunctious boyses, so I have planned a trip to visit BOTH sets of grandparents.  I will only be solo mom for about three days.  Thank goodness for grandparents!!

Today, my anxiety level was raised considerably, because I woke up with all of the symptoms of a big, bad, painful cold - not the everyday kind, but the nasty kind.  The sea urchin is back and making itself comfy in my throat, my head throbs with pain and all my muscles ache.  One good side of me being sick is that it makes me incredibly low energy and mellow.  I have been sweet as pie to Scootle-doot and Boo-boo today.  I've been able to go with the flow because I am too weak to fight the flow.  We all napped half the afternoon, played outside and had our normal bed-time routines.

Here is where the unexpected tenderness comes in.  To be straightforward, the particular boy that sends my temperature through the roof is Scootle-doot.  He bothers his brother, he screams a lot, he doesn't listen - you know - four year old stuff with a little extra spice thrown in.  We are incredibly alike - bad combo.  Anyway, tonight, I sat them both on my bed to read.  I told Scootle-doot that Mommy didn't feel good, that my legs and head hurt a lot.

**** An aside:  Scootle was a tiny boy for his age when we brought him home from Ethiopia.  He has grown so incredibly fast in the past 15 months - from wearing 24 mo clothes to now 5T.  All of this growing has given him terrible shin splints that Bill and I massage for him to get relief. ****

So when I told him that mommy's head and legs hurt, he didn't even blink.  He put one of his hands on my leg and one on my forehead and he began massaging me in exactly the way we massage him.  He asked me if I felt better, earnestly as could be.  Son, you have no idea.

The State of Me

My interim work in the afternoons is done.  I have handed over 40 kids and 5 staff to a most capable and energetic person.  I am thrilled to see this little piece of the world that I helped birth flourish.  And with Ms. E, I know it will.  It makes me happy.  Happier still to walk away, to come back to my afternoons at home with my two, hereby to be known as Boo-boo (K) and Scootle-doot (A).

For our first weekday afternoon together again, Boo-boo, Scootle-doot, Samba and I napped, popped corn, cleaned up the back porch and switched out toys.  Watching them lying on the floor, playing with cars they had not seen in a while made me wish I could just sit like that, totally engrossed in a little activity.  Working threw me back into the world of doing, doing, doing.  Even though I am not good at it (notice how little I have blogged), I was doing a lot of multi-tasking.  Now, I am a little nervous to just be, to just do one thing.   

But I desperately need to be.  I have gotten pretty far away from me lately.  There has been no time for me.  So I have been trying to get to me by falling into my worst of habits ... feeding my hunger for depth with food (which never satisfies, by the way), spending a lot of time thinking about the future (new van, travel plans, etc.) instead of experiencing life around me, not stopping when that inner voice says ... "write this dream down, it's important"  or "bring your camera with you tomorrow and capture this" or "write a real letter to that friend you miss" or "blog."  Amazing how wise my inner self can be. 

Oh, me!  Surely there will be a little opening each day now where we can sneak some time together, where we can pick up that journal, where we can sit on the floor and play with the little guys, where we can not stress about what's coming next or where we will find our next sweet.  Boo-boo, Scootle-doot and everyone around will be glad we did.

Mommy Reset

The new mommy, by A

2010 was an amazing year, but also one of the most challenging years in my own personal history.  I had just become a mom.  I found out my baby had hearing loss. I battled anxiety.  I broke two bones.  I sent my oldest child to school for the first time.  I spent the summer from h*** in and out of hospitals and doctor's appointments for both boys and for myself.  I survived the humidity and heat of our city during all of the above.

For 2011, I have been given a brand spanking new year's present:  a reset button.  I get a complete break from my 2010 routines.  I get a chance to re-organize my life after the dust has somewhat settled from our first year home.

First of all, I am working again.  It is only in the afternoons and only for a very few months, but I am back as the Director of the afterschool program I began eight years ago.  We have had some staff changes and until the new director arrives in March, I am back at it again.  I've exchanged the responsibility for two little boys in the afternoon, for that of 40 kids.  The change is doing me good.  And the boys are left in very capable hands:  Bill's!  He has shifted his schedule so that he stays home three afternoons and on two afternoons, a very sweet babysitter is here.  It is good for all of us.  Fresh air.  It will especially be good for my relationship with A.  He and I are the ones that need a major "reset" button, for we push each others buttons all afternoon long (he goes to school in the mornings). Now our time is shorter, but sweeter, and I have a chance to step back and figure out how to be his mom in more a more positive way.

I am also upping my exercise routine to: regular.  It was anything but regular last year and my entire being needs my body to be stronger, leaner, tougher.  At the gym, I have been listening to Creating a Family podcasts.  I have such little time/energy to read adoption books, but many of these podcasts on attachment, bonding, behavioral issues, learning, etc. have been wonderful resources for me as a parent.  They are my pep-talks before I go back home and face the day.  It has been so good for me to step back, to remember why I am doing this, to remind myself of what kind of mother I want to be, to get a glimpse of the bigger picture again.

Another thing I chose to start off the year was a major detox.  I have never weighed as much as I weighed at the end of 2010.  I don't blame myself nor am I beating myself up over it, but it is time to change.  I was dealing with so much last year, and eating is just so darn pleasurable for me, but all good things must come to an end :)  I found a mind/body detox here that I have been following.  So far, I have lost 6 pounds, my mind is clearer and so is my outlook. I took a big blog/facebook break, but now I am back. 

I feel really good.  My life feels different, yet the same.  I am not starting the year with anything I am unfamiliar with.  The feeling I have, which I haven't had in a while is this:  I can do it.

Happy 2011 to all of you.  I have missed you.  I have a new bulletin board above my little desk, full of pictures of many of you, my dear friends.  Thanks for the beautiful pictures of your families.  I look forward to sharing another year of our adventures together!

Christmas Photo Fail

Mistake # 1:  I don't really know how to use all the settings on my camera (help, Claudia!!).
Mistake # 2:  My flash stinks (the darker photos were the ones taken with the flash).
Mistake # 4:  Thinking two boys could simultaneously sit still for two seconds.
Mistake # 5:   Investing too much energy in holiday photo to go into Christmas cards bought last year and never sent.

Confession:  This was a particularly bad day.  Both boys tested me beyond the beyond.  After the last picture, K started screaming at the top of his lungs.  Bill was home, so I gave myself permission to have a temper tantrum (yes, I am 5 years old).  I went in the spare bedroom, shut the door and had a screamfest myself.  I could hear A asking, "Daddy, why mommy screaming?"  Thankfully, I have a very supportive husband.  He knew I had had it and he didn't blame me one bit.

Carry Me Home

I went to yoga for the first time tonight in months.  Not surprisingly, I found myself crying during savasana.  After an hour plus of twisting, stretching and moving to soothing music, silence and candlelight, it all came pouring out.  I had this subconscious thought that arose, that I was home.  Why home?  Because for those 90 minutes, even though I was in a room with other people, I was focused solely on me.  Thoughts and stress fell away as I moved.  I realized how much I miss me and how lost me has become.

We are nearing the one year mark of a family at home  (Dec. 26).  We have all been physically here, in one place, under one roof, but we have all in one way or another been trying to find out what home really means.  For all of us, it has meant an upheaval, a turning upside down of everything we once knew.  It has been a stressful (to say the least) journey, but it has also been a journey filled with unmatched gratitude and amazement. 

I just went to check on the boys in their room as they sleep.  They are so beautiful and wonderful that my heart aches thinking about them.  They are also so needy, so tantrum filled, so present 24/7, that I feel as though a tornado picked me up at the end of last year.  It has been twirling me around and I've been getting hit with debris, only to be put down (I think I've been put down) to find myself completely and utterly off balance, lost and light headed.

But I do feel (hope) that I am feeling some solid ground beneath me.  What I need is some major courage.  For the last couple of years, especially during the wait, I found that mindlessness and staying away from the depths, the heavy stuff, was one way to ward off the intense pain of longing for my children.  It seemed easier to stay "light." Only it became a habit, one that has kind of kept me in a fog this year (along with those two sweet boys, who are demanding something of me ALL of the time).  I have avoided the deep end - the pain of my children's history, the pain of the transtornation of my life.  For a while, it was literally more than I could bear (thank God for medication)!

I am tired of shallowness.  There are some amazing things I have missed this year because I was either too caught up in that tornado or too afraid of experiencing the enormity of what has been happening to me.  Going back to yoga tonight reminded me of what it feels like to live more deeply.  I have a Brian Andreas print by my dresser that a friend once gave me.  He recognized me in it once, but it has most certainly not been me lately.  On it, there is a quote that says:

She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short.

Today, I cried - not out of utter exhaustion or frustration, as my cries have been lately.  I cried with relief to be with myself again.  I cried because in 90 minutes of silence, I connected with my own soul.  The last song that played in class brought it all to perfection:  "Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home."  It was sung by a woman with the sweetest voice, in a slow, Celtic kind of way.  It was a strange selection for yoga class, but perfect for me. 


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 Note:  Reading blogs has been something that I have had a hard time doing, too.  I have been avoiding both pain and beauty.  Don't give up on me!  I want to come back.

The Heart Melts and Melts ...

... when you are a mother.  From waking up in the middle of the night sobbing at the thought of what your children have been through, to watching them be so brave going through yet another experience they don't understand.  I give you our latest adventure:

K has a bad ear infection along with coughing and wheezing.  Possibly asthma, but most likely just a bad virus.  In true American excess fashion, we know OWN a nebulizer.  I asked the nurse at his doctor's office when we needed to return it and she said, "Oh, no.  Your insurance pays for it.  You keep it."  Sheesh.  If he does have asthma, of course it will be convenient to keep it, but if it's just a virus, do we really need to keep this expensive piece of equipment that we will only use for a week?  Things that make you go hummmm....

But I digress.  My heart has been melting over and over again at the resiliency of my boys.  They have certainly been a lot more adaptable and easygoing than I have in this crazy transition into familyhood!   (There is a much bigger post about this that will just have to wait.)  They are my little teachers and I am so grateful for the lessons they teach me. 

Case in point:  no matter what is going on, I get this, which I get to enjoy all day, from both boys, free of charge:

Countdowns...

in 7 days.... my cast comes off
in 8 days ... baby k's ears get turned on

i cannot wait any longer

enough scratching people i love when i hug them
enough yucky peely skin on my hand
enough swelling and tightness in this crazy heat
enough moratorium on working out

my temporary discomfort will end
the world will open up for my baby boy

we are counting and ready for some semblance of normal.

too much

it seems that even though i am almost at six mo of being a mother, 2 children + one having special needs + me being very hard on myself and expecting to be supermom = just too much.  add to that a solid month of traveling and having several overnight guests and you get me, at my edge.  out of frustration and stress, friday, i punched the floor with my fist and broke my right hand.  too much.  i know, this is the second bone in 6 mo.  for those of you who don't know me in person, i promise i am not crazy.  passionate, yes, but not crazy.  but this is a crazy time in my life.  tuesday, i have an appt w/ my doc.  i will ask for meds for anxiety/depression for the first time in my life.  i have never reached such an edge before - not one i could not exercise, meditate, therapy or talk my way out of.

day to day life is really great.  it really is.  the joy i get from my boys is incalculable.  i just don't seem to be able to handle extra stuff very well.  and extra stuff is here for a while with this crazy month and k's surgery.  people always ask me about siblings - is it a good idea to adopt two at once.  yes.  but when i say it is hard, "hard" here is the hardest i have ever experienced.  blogging and commenting will be hard for a while.  this has taken me so long to write.  this is my second chance to let go of a lot of things, reach out for help and get healthy.  i am confident, but broken.