My mom and I took Garrett to New York City and he hated Times Square.
I can't honestly remember my very first impression of New York. I'd flown in on a red eye and my friend deposited me in her room to sleep while she went to class. I'm sure I had an initial impression but I don't know what it was. And I don't remember at what point on that trip The City grafted itself into my blood so that I loved it in a magical kind of way.
On my second trip, I came up out of the subway station and there were fat raindrops falling. I was in Washington Heights which feels so different from other parts of Manhattan and I just remember smiling and feeling at peace even though New York is really not overly peaceful.
We came up out of the subway and into the edge of Times Square at 40th Street and 8th Ave. There was a weird door that led to an adult movie store. There was always a drunk guy passed out right in front of the door. It was never the same guy.
Garrett loves hotels and ours was a hit.
He enjoyed Madame Tussaud's.
He loves history and the day we spent at the Statue of Liberty/Ellis Island/911 Museum/Trinity Church was right up his alley.
He laughed hysterically throughout the play we saw.
He liked going up into the Empire State Building.
He absolutely adored Central Park.
But he hated Times Square.
We'd be walking through and I would suddenly feel his hand on me--as though afraid he might be swallowed up whole. I tried to make it fun for him by taking him to the M&M store and Junior's for dessert. But he was scared for life by a grown man dressed like a baby trying to get money.
By the end of our four days there, he would say things like, "Does it involve going through Times Square?" If I replied no, he sighed in relief.
I think he enjoyed the experience of NYC. He saw things some 12 year olds only know from books and movies. But he was in his element in Central Park--where he could climb rocks and catch turtles. On our last day, in our last two hours, he asked if I would take him back to Central Park. I wasn't sure I could make it happen given our time constraint. But then I totally did and he got a full half hour with those turtles.
And then we came up out of the subway station. Past the adult movie store door. Past the drunk guy. Onto our street and back to the hotel.
And then it took us a full 18 hours to get home because our flight was delayed and we missed our connector. So he slept on the floor of the Denver airport. It was certainly a trip to remember.
Saturday, August 11, 2018
Friday, July 27, 2018
Girls and Boys
I have to go back to school in a New York minute (thankfully, though, not before I actually go to New York next week) and if I think about it for too long I start to have some kind of panic attack and I hover on the verge of an all out toddler temper tantrum.
I love summer.
I never, ever, want it to leave me.
As I laid in bed thinking about my dwindling break, I decided we were definitely making today a pool day and we were definitely inviting friends.We ended up there with my friend, the boys' best buddies and another one of Garrett's friends from school. And so, it was a gang of two twelve year olds, an eleven year old, a ten year old, a nine year old, and a partridge in a pear tree who masquerades as a two year old.
They played and swam and soaked up the sun and one of them pooped a big disaster into a swimmy diaper. After that mess, in which I tried to wash him off in a shower that actually felt like needles were piercing skin and he cried and cried and screamed, "Mommy, no more!" and I finally had to make it work with a few baby wipes, I dried him off and declared it a day.
I'd been told that my nine year old was doing flips off the tall springboard and I needed to see this for myself. I walked over to the diving pool with my toddler in my arms and my friend at my side. As we walked past the springboard, I saw one of the girls from Garrett's grade. She is one of the kindest and most beautiful girls. She's also a giant and my son is a shrimp. As a teacher, I adore her. I pointed her out to Garrett. "Oh!" he said, "Yeah." And then my barely twelve year old marched right over to her and said hello.
I was so proud of his friendliness.
"Oh! Hi Garrett!" she said and she walked toward him with an arm extended in what could only be interpreted as the beginning of a side hug. Just as she began to say, "Let me give you a hu---" he turned on his heels and walked back to his friends.
Oh. Man. Rejected.
She mumbled, "Nevermind..." and then vacated that particular pool immediately. Garrett walked back and I explained that he likely, without meaning to, had really embarrassed her. I knew he wasn't trying to be a jerk. I don't think he even knew she was going to hug him. But she clearly felt burned. It was so obvious to this former sixth grader.
I told him to find her and make small talk. "You don't have to hug her, but at least make sure she knows you're friends. Smooth it over, in case she thinks you were trying to be mean."
He and his friends found her and hers. They stood together for a few minutes. I don't know what was said, but it was a glimpse into my future. This future of cute girls and my son. And his buddies. Eventually he told her he was going to New York next week. He said, "I'm going to a Broadway show." Apparently she responded jokingly with, "What? I hate you!" and then she jumped in the pool.
As we got our stuff packed up, his best friend sat across from him while they both ate a few cookies. "She keeps looking at you."
"She does?" he asked.
"Yeah," his other friend said. "She's staring over here."
"Maybe she likes shorter men," I said. They all broke into laughter. On the way out, I heard the boys teasing each other about girls and I looked at my friend. "They were three. Do you remember that? They were JUST THREE."
My son has been 12 for a week. When I was 12 years and 9 days old, a boy asked me to "go out" with him. For a solid year we never actually went anywhere. We just ate lunch together and, on rare occasion, held sweaty hands. I told Garrett today that I was 12 when I first had a boyfriend. His eyes got huge. "Don't worry," I said. "I didn't kiss him or anything like that. We just held hands."
He wrinkled his nose. "Gross."
Phew.
I love summer.
I never, ever, want it to leave me.
As I laid in bed thinking about my dwindling break, I decided we were definitely making today a pool day and we were definitely inviting friends.We ended up there with my friend, the boys' best buddies and another one of Garrett's friends from school. And so, it was a gang of two twelve year olds, an eleven year old, a ten year old, a nine year old, and a partridge in a pear tree who masquerades as a two year old.
They played and swam and soaked up the sun and one of them pooped a big disaster into a swimmy diaper. After that mess, in which I tried to wash him off in a shower that actually felt like needles were piercing skin and he cried and cried and screamed, "Mommy, no more!" and I finally had to make it work with a few baby wipes, I dried him off and declared it a day.
I'd been told that my nine year old was doing flips off the tall springboard and I needed to see this for myself. I walked over to the diving pool with my toddler in my arms and my friend at my side. As we walked past the springboard, I saw one of the girls from Garrett's grade. She is one of the kindest and most beautiful girls. She's also a giant and my son is a shrimp. As a teacher, I adore her. I pointed her out to Garrett. "Oh!" he said, "Yeah." And then my barely twelve year old marched right over to her and said hello.
I was so proud of his friendliness.
"Oh! Hi Garrett!" she said and she walked toward him with an arm extended in what could only be interpreted as the beginning of a side hug. Just as she began to say, "Let me give you a hu---" he turned on his heels and walked back to his friends.
Oh. Man. Rejected.
She mumbled, "Nevermind..." and then vacated that particular pool immediately. Garrett walked back and I explained that he likely, without meaning to, had really embarrassed her. I knew he wasn't trying to be a jerk. I don't think he even knew she was going to hug him. But she clearly felt burned. It was so obvious to this former sixth grader.
I told him to find her and make small talk. "You don't have to hug her, but at least make sure she knows you're friends. Smooth it over, in case she thinks you were trying to be mean."
He and his friends found her and hers. They stood together for a few minutes. I don't know what was said, but it was a glimpse into my future. This future of cute girls and my son. And his buddies. Eventually he told her he was going to New York next week. He said, "I'm going to a Broadway show." Apparently she responded jokingly with, "What? I hate you!" and then she jumped in the pool.
As we got our stuff packed up, his best friend sat across from him while they both ate a few cookies. "She keeps looking at you."
"She does?" he asked.
"Yeah," his other friend said. "She's staring over here."
"Maybe she likes shorter men," I said. They all broke into laughter. On the way out, I heard the boys teasing each other about girls and I looked at my friend. "They were three. Do you remember that? They were JUST THREE."
My son has been 12 for a week. When I was 12 years and 9 days old, a boy asked me to "go out" with him. For a solid year we never actually went anywhere. We just ate lunch together and, on rare occasion, held sweaty hands. I told Garrett today that I was 12 when I first had a boyfriend. His eyes got huge. "Don't worry," I said. "I didn't kiss him or anything like that. We just held hands."
He wrinkled his nose. "Gross."
Phew.
Wednesday, July 25, 2018
It's a Scary World or I'm Crazy
We live in a scary world. I suppose that, since Adam and Eve's eviction from the Garden of Eden, people have lived afraid. Afraid of other tribes and nations. Afraid of madmen. Afraid of anyone who wields power over us. But this world is terrifying. Because, in this world, I spend some time in Costco and wonder if the creepy man who is following us is targeting us for sex trafficking.
I first noticed him when the boys and I were waiting in line for a sample. He was staring at me and I wondered if we'd cut in front of him accidentally. "Sorry!" I said, in case we had. He gestured, as if to say, "No worries." I thought nothing of it. We walked up and down the aisles looking for samples. It was a sad sample day at Costco--despite being there at 12:30--and we were sorely disappointed in our hunt. I noticed the man because he seemed to be in every aisle we were. It dawned on me that he seemed to be alone and he didn't have a cart. I was only there for the optical department and free samples though, so I didn't dwell on this fact.
As we made our way toward the deli section, I stopped and looked at furniture. How odd that this man also wanted to stop and look at furniture, just a few feet away from us. It was this moment that I went into something-is-weird-here-and-I-am-feeling-uncomfortable mode. Now, honestly, this whole entire thing MIGHT be a strange coincidence and I'm on hyper alert because of #metoo and sex trafficking and modern horror stories. MAYBE he was a perfectly normal gentleman and the events that unfolded were just happenstance. But either way, my intuition flared and I started trying to lose this guy. I walked back by the chickens. As I crossed aisles, I could see him at the other end of each one. He was never looking at us. He was always VERY engrossed in whatever item happened to be right where he was.
"Come on!" I hissed quietly to my boys and we took off abruptly back the way we came. I whispered to my kids that I really thought this guy was following us. I walked quickly to the front, glancing to my right often. There he was, across the store but still keeping pace with us. I darted down a couple aisles, circling back. I finally lost him. As I had nothing in my cart except Will, I pushed through the checkout quickly and got in line at the food counter because I'd promised the boys and because I was fairly sure that this was somehow all in my head still. As we stood in a LONG line, I swiveled my head to the right again. Here came my shadow.
He walked right up to us and got in line directly next to us. Now, at this point, I definitely thought something was up and intended to not leave Costco until I'd told someone and we were assured that we were all safe. I also decided to memorize everything I could about him. Gray shirt. Black pants. Brown shoes. About 5'11". Balding in a patch on the back. I couldn't describe his face because I hadn't stared directly at him ever and I couldn't see his face in line because he'd turned his head and was scanning the mothers and children sitting at the tables. I made sure he knew I was watching him though. Because I thought that if he knew that I knew he was following me, his plan--whatever that was--might be foiled.
Suddenly, after he'd waited in line for about three minutes, he turned and walked straight out the front door.
The man behind me in line immediately started talking to me about Will. He seemed nice and I engaged in conversation. We got our food and sat down. Eating Costco pizza with Will is a bit of a production and it took us a long time to finish lunch. It was weird to me--but then again I was on hyper alert--that the guy who'd talked to me in line was just sitting at a table near us, his food long finished.
At this point, I convinced myself that they were somehow working together. I had Garrett throw away the plates and we walked out ridiculously fast. I turned, as we all but sprinted out and saw the guy put his hat on and stand up immediately. I told both boys on the way out that if anyone tried to grab them in the parking lot to just start shrieking right away. Thankfully the van was close and there were a ton of people right by our car--women and children and the like. I had no groceries so I just tossed everyone in the van and locked the doors.
I saw the second man emerge from Costco. He didn't look around. He just walked to his vehicle. I have no idea if he was part of anything sketchy. For that matter, I don't know if the first guy was either. It was just a series of unfortunate events, perhaps.
But we live in a scary world. A world in which there is the possibility that it wasn't all in my head. I made triple sure I wasn't being followed as I drove away. Maybe they were the two nicest guys. Or maybe they weren't. It troubles me that I have to wonder.
I first noticed him when the boys and I were waiting in line for a sample. He was staring at me and I wondered if we'd cut in front of him accidentally. "Sorry!" I said, in case we had. He gestured, as if to say, "No worries." I thought nothing of it. We walked up and down the aisles looking for samples. It was a sad sample day at Costco--despite being there at 12:30--and we were sorely disappointed in our hunt. I noticed the man because he seemed to be in every aisle we were. It dawned on me that he seemed to be alone and he didn't have a cart. I was only there for the optical department and free samples though, so I didn't dwell on this fact.
As we made our way toward the deli section, I stopped and looked at furniture. How odd that this man also wanted to stop and look at furniture, just a few feet away from us. It was this moment that I went into something-is-weird-here-and-I-am-feeling-uncomfortable mode. Now, honestly, this whole entire thing MIGHT be a strange coincidence and I'm on hyper alert because of #metoo and sex trafficking and modern horror stories. MAYBE he was a perfectly normal gentleman and the events that unfolded were just happenstance. But either way, my intuition flared and I started trying to lose this guy. I walked back by the chickens. As I crossed aisles, I could see him at the other end of each one. He was never looking at us. He was always VERY engrossed in whatever item happened to be right where he was.
"Come on!" I hissed quietly to my boys and we took off abruptly back the way we came. I whispered to my kids that I really thought this guy was following us. I walked quickly to the front, glancing to my right often. There he was, across the store but still keeping pace with us. I darted down a couple aisles, circling back. I finally lost him. As I had nothing in my cart except Will, I pushed through the checkout quickly and got in line at the food counter because I'd promised the boys and because I was fairly sure that this was somehow all in my head still. As we stood in a LONG line, I swiveled my head to the right again. Here came my shadow.
He walked right up to us and got in line directly next to us. Now, at this point, I definitely thought something was up and intended to not leave Costco until I'd told someone and we were assured that we were all safe. I also decided to memorize everything I could about him. Gray shirt. Black pants. Brown shoes. About 5'11". Balding in a patch on the back. I couldn't describe his face because I hadn't stared directly at him ever and I couldn't see his face in line because he'd turned his head and was scanning the mothers and children sitting at the tables. I made sure he knew I was watching him though. Because I thought that if he knew that I knew he was following me, his plan--whatever that was--might be foiled.
Suddenly, after he'd waited in line for about three minutes, he turned and walked straight out the front door.
The man behind me in line immediately started talking to me about Will. He seemed nice and I engaged in conversation. We got our food and sat down. Eating Costco pizza with Will is a bit of a production and it took us a long time to finish lunch. It was weird to me--but then again I was on hyper alert--that the guy who'd talked to me in line was just sitting at a table near us, his food long finished.
At this point, I convinced myself that they were somehow working together. I had Garrett throw away the plates and we walked out ridiculously fast. I turned, as we all but sprinted out and saw the guy put his hat on and stand up immediately. I told both boys on the way out that if anyone tried to grab them in the parking lot to just start shrieking right away. Thankfully the van was close and there were a ton of people right by our car--women and children and the like. I had no groceries so I just tossed everyone in the van and locked the doors.
I saw the second man emerge from Costco. He didn't look around. He just walked to his vehicle. I have no idea if he was part of anything sketchy. For that matter, I don't know if the first guy was either. It was just a series of unfortunate events, perhaps.
But we live in a scary world. A world in which there is the possibility that it wasn't all in my head. I made triple sure I wasn't being followed as I drove away. Maybe they were the two nicest guys. Or maybe they weren't. It troubles me that I have to wonder.
Monday, July 23, 2018
To My Son Who Is Somehow Twelve
Dear Boy,
We're two thirds of the way to eighteen. I can pretty clearly remember when you turned six and I realized that you were one third of the way to eighteen and I momentarily freaked out a little. Maybe it's because I have your tornado toddler of a brother now and in some ways it feels like I'll be actively parenting for the rest of my life, but I'm not lamenting this twelve quite like I lamented six. Perhaps I've just given up on trying to keep you little. Or, perhaps, I'm looking forward, in some warped and demented way, to watching you become a man.
The eye rolling, looking at me like I'm a complete moron, phase of our relationship has begun. I don't love that, not gonna lie. However, I know a lot of preteen boys and, I'm not kidding when I say that I wouldn't trade you for a single one of them. Oh some of them are great, to be sure. It's just that none of them are you.
There are more athletic boys in the world. There are smarter ones and more talented ones. I don't say that to be mean. I say it because you have enough ego strength to handle it. You always have. You may not be the best baseball player and you may not set the curve on the math test but you are incredibly well rounded. And you are respectful and kind. This summer, in particular, I have had several people tell me what an amazing kid you are. People who meet you for an hour or hang out with you for half a day and then send me glowing messages about your maturity and your manners.
I recently received a compliment on my parenting (BY THE GRACE OF GOD ALONE, KID). I was told that we are doing a great job--that we are stricter than most but that's okay. I suppose, as I look around me, that that's true. I'm sure you don't enjoy being the kid who has the "stricter than most" parents. I hope, though, that some day, you look back on your life and appreciate the rules and the boundaries. I hope you are grateful that we do not allow disrespect or entitlement. I hope that you can find peace and joy in the fact that we ask you to try to live like Jesus did and that we try (and oh how we fail) to show that to you by example. And I hope that, under all that weight of strict parenting, you know that I see you.
When we were recently in the Redwoods, I was speaking to a volunteer ranger. It was hard to keep you and your brothers quiet. Will, because he's a maniac. You and Matt because your voices and your countenance were alive with the mystery and majesty of those giants. For dad and me, we feel silenced by the awe of those woody sentinels. But for you, there was adventure in every moment. I apologized to the ranger. "We're trying to keep them quiet--" I couldn't finish my sentence. He interrupted me.
"Why?" he interjected. "They can be quiet when they're old!"
His statement rocked this boymom. I try to let you live, to watch you climb trees because they are God's gift to boys, to allow you to be loud and assertive, to be rogue in this society of screens and quiet whispers. But I still find myself apologizing for my boisterous boys. No more. God gave me larger than life, noisy boys--and He started by giving me you. And you, my dearest one, can be quiet and contained when you are old. (Except when your teacher is talking. Please also be quiet when your teacher is talking.)
You have made me so proud. This year alone, as I sat in our end of the year assembly and heard your beautiful name so many times. Making it to Regionals in the science fair--you just kept doing extra work to make it ready for the next level. You and your dad sat and sat and worked and worked and fixed and fixed that project until you took it as far as you could and got second place at the highest level. You finished the 40 book challenge. You participated in Monster Math. You took second place in the geography bee, losing only to a sixth grader.
Beyond your academic accolades, your teacher told me, on so many occasions in the faculty room, what an amazing friend you had been to someone that day. You served on student council after having to interview for the position. Outside of the classroom, you had an incredible batting average on the baseball field and worked so hard on the football field. You earned your Tenderfoot rank in scouts and are well on your way to Second Class. You participated in Kids Club and always memorized all your verses and completed all your homework.
You love the outdoors and want to be in the military. A free spirit at heart. A boy who loves travel and adventure and discovery. Your eyes--still the most unique color I have ever, ever seen--are deep and wise even if you are telling dorky twelve year old boy jokes most of the time.
We're going to New York. You and me and Grandma. I promised you a trip at the end of sixth grade if you were respectful and kind and didn't turn into a raging preteen jerk. But then we sold puppies and had the money now. And so we're New York bound for this twelfth birthday of yours. We'll kick off your last year of elementary school and celebrate your eclectic self. You are excited to see the Statue of Liberty and your history loving side can't wait to go to Ellis Island and visit Hamilton's grave. But you're also excited to go to a Broadway show and wander Central Park. I'm so excited to spend a few days with just my one oldest son--making memories and seeing one of my most favorite cities through your eyes.
I love you. Don't get me wrong, there are days when I'd pay gypsies to take you, but they are not the norm. The reality is that I wouldn't trade you for all the money in the world. You are such a very, very good egg. I love you. And if you ever, ever doubt that, I hope you will read these words and know that you were worth the wait. You were worth the tears and the fears and every moment that it took to finally hold you in my arms. I am so thankful that you made me a mama.
Always, all of my love,
Mom
We're two thirds of the way to eighteen. I can pretty clearly remember when you turned six and I realized that you were one third of the way to eighteen and I momentarily freaked out a little. Maybe it's because I have your tornado toddler of a brother now and in some ways it feels like I'll be actively parenting for the rest of my life, but I'm not lamenting this twelve quite like I lamented six. Perhaps I've just given up on trying to keep you little. Or, perhaps, I'm looking forward, in some warped and demented way, to watching you become a man.
The eye rolling, looking at me like I'm a complete moron, phase of our relationship has begun. I don't love that, not gonna lie. However, I know a lot of preteen boys and, I'm not kidding when I say that I wouldn't trade you for a single one of them. Oh some of them are great, to be sure. It's just that none of them are you.
There are more athletic boys in the world. There are smarter ones and more talented ones. I don't say that to be mean. I say it because you have enough ego strength to handle it. You always have. You may not be the best baseball player and you may not set the curve on the math test but you are incredibly well rounded. And you are respectful and kind. This summer, in particular, I have had several people tell me what an amazing kid you are. People who meet you for an hour or hang out with you for half a day and then send me glowing messages about your maturity and your manners.
I recently received a compliment on my parenting (BY THE GRACE OF GOD ALONE, KID). I was told that we are doing a great job--that we are stricter than most but that's okay. I suppose, as I look around me, that that's true. I'm sure you don't enjoy being the kid who has the "stricter than most" parents. I hope, though, that some day, you look back on your life and appreciate the rules and the boundaries. I hope you are grateful that we do not allow disrespect or entitlement. I hope that you can find peace and joy in the fact that we ask you to try to live like Jesus did and that we try (and oh how we fail) to show that to you by example. And I hope that, under all that weight of strict parenting, you know that I see you.
When we were recently in the Redwoods, I was speaking to a volunteer ranger. It was hard to keep you and your brothers quiet. Will, because he's a maniac. You and Matt because your voices and your countenance were alive with the mystery and majesty of those giants. For dad and me, we feel silenced by the awe of those woody sentinels. But for you, there was adventure in every moment. I apologized to the ranger. "We're trying to keep them quiet--" I couldn't finish my sentence. He interrupted me.
"Why?" he interjected. "They can be quiet when they're old!"
His statement rocked this boymom. I try to let you live, to watch you climb trees because they are God's gift to boys, to allow you to be loud and assertive, to be rogue in this society of screens and quiet whispers. But I still find myself apologizing for my boisterous boys. No more. God gave me larger than life, noisy boys--and He started by giving me you. And you, my dearest one, can be quiet and contained when you are old. (Except when your teacher is talking. Please also be quiet when your teacher is talking.)
You have made me so proud. This year alone, as I sat in our end of the year assembly and heard your beautiful name so many times. Making it to Regionals in the science fair--you just kept doing extra work to make it ready for the next level. You and your dad sat and sat and worked and worked and fixed and fixed that project until you took it as far as you could and got second place at the highest level. You finished the 40 book challenge. You participated in Monster Math. You took second place in the geography bee, losing only to a sixth grader.
Beyond your academic accolades, your teacher told me, on so many occasions in the faculty room, what an amazing friend you had been to someone that day. You served on student council after having to interview for the position. Outside of the classroom, you had an incredible batting average on the baseball field and worked so hard on the football field. You earned your Tenderfoot rank in scouts and are well on your way to Second Class. You participated in Kids Club and always memorized all your verses and completed all your homework.
You love the outdoors and want to be in the military. A free spirit at heart. A boy who loves travel and adventure and discovery. Your eyes--still the most unique color I have ever, ever seen--are deep and wise even if you are telling dorky twelve year old boy jokes most of the time.
We're going to New York. You and me and Grandma. I promised you a trip at the end of sixth grade if you were respectful and kind and didn't turn into a raging preteen jerk. But then we sold puppies and had the money now. And so we're New York bound for this twelfth birthday of yours. We'll kick off your last year of elementary school and celebrate your eclectic self. You are excited to see the Statue of Liberty and your history loving side can't wait to go to Ellis Island and visit Hamilton's grave. But you're also excited to go to a Broadway show and wander Central Park. I'm so excited to spend a few days with just my one oldest son--making memories and seeing one of my most favorite cities through your eyes.
I love you. Don't get me wrong, there are days when I'd pay gypsies to take you, but they are not the norm. The reality is that I wouldn't trade you for all the money in the world. You are such a very, very good egg. I love you. And if you ever, ever doubt that, I hope you will read these words and know that you were worth the wait. You were worth the tears and the fears and every moment that it took to finally hold you in my arms. I am so thankful that you made me a mama.
Always, all of my love,
Mom
Sunday, July 22, 2018
Interview with a 12 Year Old
1. What is your favorite T.V. Show? NCIS.
2. What did you have for breakfast? Eggos.
3. What do you want to name your future son? Troy.
4. Favorite Food? Snow crab (Same as last year and the year before that and the year before that.)
5. What food do you dislike? Sushi.
6. What is your favorite color? Brown. (Some things never change. It's been brown forever. He calls it, "a good, solid color.")
7. Favorite lunch? Pizza.
8. What is your favorite thing to do? Go camping. (Last year he said, "Go on cruises." His taste has cheapened in his old age.)
9. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? A cruise to Cuba.
10. Favorite sport? Baseball.
11. What do you want to name your future daughter? I like the name Emily. (Last year he said, "Lori." I'm glad that ship sailed. I don't hate my name but it's a little dated. Emily though. Emily is timeless. I could absolutely get on board with an Emily.)
12. Are you a morning person or a night person? Either.
13. Pets? Hamster, dog, and cat.
14. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? Baby Declan. (His cousin had a baby. We met him on Thursday. He's adorable.)
15. What do you want to be when you grow up? A pilot in the Airforce.
16. What is your favorite candy? 3 Musketeers.
17. Where is the farthest place you've ever been from home? Israel. That will never change.
18. What is your favorite book? My favorite series right now is Rings of Fire.
19. What are you most proud of? I'm proud of learning how to surf.
20. What is your favorite movie? The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies.
21. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The chicken.
And, for fun, I asked him the same questions that James Lipton asks at the end of Inside the Actor's Studio.
1. What is your favorite word? Probably the. I also like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. (Ha ha. Bit of a difference between those two words but okay.)
2. What is your least favorite word? Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Ef you badness badness after that. (Okay. So, the F word.)
3. What turns you on? (I rephrased with, "What do you like?") Fishing and camping.
4. What turns you off? (I rephrased with, "What don't you like?") I don't like getting sick.
5. What sound or noise do you love? I like air raid siren.
6. What sound or noise do you hate? Styrofoam.
3. What do you want to name your future son? Troy.
4. Favorite Food? Snow crab (Same as last year and the year before that and the year before that.)
5. What food do you dislike? Sushi.
6. What is your favorite color? Brown. (Some things never change. It's been brown forever. He calls it, "a good, solid color.")
7. Favorite lunch? Pizza.
8. What is your favorite thing to do? Go camping. (Last year he said, "Go on cruises." His taste has cheapened in his old age.)
9. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? A cruise to Cuba.
10. Favorite sport? Baseball.
11. What do you want to name your future daughter? I like the name Emily. (Last year he said, "Lori." I'm glad that ship sailed. I don't hate my name but it's a little dated. Emily though. Emily is timeless. I could absolutely get on board with an Emily.)
12. Are you a morning person or a night person? Either.
13. Pets? Hamster, dog, and cat.
14. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? Baby Declan. (His cousin had a baby. We met him on Thursday. He's adorable.)
15. What do you want to be when you grow up? A pilot in the Airforce.
16. What is your favorite candy? 3 Musketeers.
17. Where is the farthest place you've ever been from home? Israel. That will never change.
18. What is your favorite book? My favorite series right now is Rings of Fire.
19. What are you most proud of? I'm proud of learning how to surf.
20. What is your favorite movie? The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies.
21. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The chicken.
And, for fun, I asked him the same questions that James Lipton asks at the end of Inside the Actor's Studio.
1. What is your favorite word? Probably the. I also like supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. (Ha ha. Bit of a difference between those two words but okay.)
2. What is your least favorite word? Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Ef you badness badness after that. (Okay. So, the F word.)
3. What turns you on? (I rephrased with, "What do you like?") Fishing and camping.
4. What turns you off? (I rephrased with, "What don't you like?") I don't like getting sick.
5. What sound or noise do you love? I like air raid siren.
6. What sound or noise do you hate? Styrofoam.
7. What is your favorite curse word? Crap.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? A Navy SEAL.
9. What profession would you not like to do? Plumber.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? A Navy SEAL.
9. What profession would you not like to do? Plumber.
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? (I omitted the "If Heaven exists" part)? Hello.
Tuesday, July 17, 2018
Home
When I was nine, my family went on a three week vacation through National Parks and into Canada. Then we came down through Washington, Oregon and California, finally reaching home in San Diego county.
When we arrive home on Saturday, we'll have been gone for 20 days. What an adventure we've had! Still, there is no place like Home, wherever that happens to be. Even ten years later, my hometown still feels like home. But Home is where my stuff is. Home is where my family lives and breathes and does the majority of our life.
I'm so thankful to have married a man who values vacation. And not just vacation to a place an hour or two away but real adventure where we see the world and spend long hours in the car. I'm thankful we share the same ideas on that. But oh boy, will I be glad to have more than five shirts to rotate through. I'm pretty ready to not be living out of a suitcase and trying to keep my toddler from destroying everyone's house.
I wonder if there was a time on our trip when I was kid when my mom said, "Hey. I'm ready to get on home now."
We've had a great time hanging out with family, seeing the Redwoods, exploring the northern California coast, driving on roads we've never been on before. Our kids saw San Francisco and Coos Bay, lighthouses and wildlife. They saw each of their 10 cousins. It has been good.
We're still going to hang with family, visit some friends, and celebrate Garrett's 12th birthday in Boise, on our way home.
But Home is waiting on Saturday and I'm thankful.
When we arrive home on Saturday, we'll have been gone for 20 days. What an adventure we've had! Still, there is no place like Home, wherever that happens to be. Even ten years later, my hometown still feels like home. But Home is where my stuff is. Home is where my family lives and breathes and does the majority of our life.
I'm so thankful to have married a man who values vacation. And not just vacation to a place an hour or two away but real adventure where we see the world and spend long hours in the car. I'm thankful we share the same ideas on that. But oh boy, will I be glad to have more than five shirts to rotate through. I'm pretty ready to not be living out of a suitcase and trying to keep my toddler from destroying everyone's house.
I wonder if there was a time on our trip when I was kid when my mom said, "Hey. I'm ready to get on home now."
We've had a great time hanging out with family, seeing the Redwoods, exploring the northern California coast, driving on roads we've never been on before. Our kids saw San Francisco and Coos Bay, lighthouses and wildlife. They saw each of their 10 cousins. It has been good.
We're still going to hang with family, visit some friends, and celebrate Garrett's 12th birthday in Boise, on our way home.
But Home is waiting on Saturday and I'm thankful.
Saturday, June 30, 2018
A Zebra!
We just returned from several days in Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. My favorite moment of the entire trip went something like this...
We'd driven into the park after dinner. It was evening and the park was alive with wildlife. We'd see many cars pulled over and a crowd of people pointing and taking pictures. As we looked to see what they saw, one of us would yell something like, "Oh! I found it. It's a deer!" or, "There it is! A buffalo." This went on for some time.
At one point, we were driving along. There wasn't an animal in sight. Suddenly, our barely two-year-old screams, " Found it! A zebra!"
We all basically died laughing and have repeated the phrases no less than 500 times. Toddlers are the best.
We'd driven into the park after dinner. It was evening and the park was alive with wildlife. We'd see many cars pulled over and a crowd of people pointing and taking pictures. As we looked to see what they saw, one of us would yell something like, "Oh! I found it. It's a deer!" or, "There it is! A buffalo." This went on for some time.
At one point, we were driving along. There wasn't an animal in sight. Suddenly, our barely two-year-old screams, " Found it! A zebra!"
We all basically died laughing and have repeated the phrases no less than 500 times. Toddlers are the best.
Friday, June 22, 2018
Make Today Your Day
In creating the Facebook community TRIBE, I have found myself thinking about many aspects of adoption lately. While this blog isn't intended to be only about adoption, it is a topic that I feel called to discuss with some frequency. It is my hope that even those who remain untouched by adoption on a personal level, can learn and grow through what is found here and within the TRIBE community.
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It was obvious, from moment one of Matthew's life, that we'd be talking openly about adoption right from the start. There's simply no hiding the fact that I didn't give birth to him--not that I would want to.
We had to figure out what to say to Matthew--from day one--so that he wouldn't have a, "WAIT, WHAT? I'm ADOPTED?" moment. And, let's face it, being Black, that moment would have come sooner than it does for some. After reading A LOT, I believe that parents should start early, be honest, and keep it simple. (But keep reading because if you didn't start early or you weren't honest, YOU CAN FIX IT!)
In an article in Paediatrics Child Health, Dr. Cecilia Baxter writes:
Telling a child his or her adoption story at this early age may help parents
to become comfortable with the language of adoption and the child's birth
story. Children need to know that they were adopted. Parents' openness
and degree of comfort create an environment that is conducive to a child
asking questions about his or her adoption.
to become comfortable with the language of adoption and the child's birth
story. Children need to know that they were adopted. Parents' openness
and degree of comfort create an environment that is conducive to a child
asking questions about his or her adoption.
I was terrified of the moment when we sat our son down and broke it to him that he had another family. And so I sought to avoid that altogether. From day one, I told him his story. It varied slightly and was certainly scaled down to his level. Could he understand as a newborn? Absolutely not. But I wasn't sure when he would understand and when he would be cognitively ready to comprehend that information. I had no clue what to say and so I simply told him his story.
Once upon a time, there was a mommy and she had a baby in her tummy. That baby was you. She wanted the very best for you and that meant finding a family with a mommy AND a daddy. She looked and looked and she found mommy and daddy and Garrett. We wanted another baby in our family so so much. One day, your mommy went to the hospital and you were born. She gave you to us and that is called adoption.
That was a very abridged version of the story, obviously. But, also, he was a newborn. I whispered it to him on occasion. Over time, the story got longer and filled in with more details. As a preschooler, sometimes, he would beg me to tell his story. Sometimes, he would tell parts of it to me from memory. His favorite part was always when I told him that, when he was born, he locked eyes with me. I would always dramatically make a face where I bugged my eyes out as far as I could, just to be silly. This turned into a version of the story where I would pause and then whisper, "You popped out and stared at me just (pause) like (pause) this..." and then both of us would turn our heads, in the dark of his room, and open our eyes as wide as we could, our noses nearly touching. He would then dissolve into a fit of laughter. He also always loved the part where Garrett did a happy dance when they met.
I haven't told Matthew his story in a long time--we've graduated to discussing much deeper adoption concepts in his old age. He is, after all, a wise nine year old. But telling him that story opened up communication at a toddler level and then a preschool level and finally an early elementary level. It showed him that we're willing to talk about his adoption openly. It allowed him to ask questions on his terms and at age appropriate levels. "Is she brown yike me?" "What does she look like?" "Why did she not want me?" It allowed us to answer honestly but always positively. "Yes." "She looks like you except she's grown up and a girl and I'll show you a picture in the morning." "She did want you. Oh, sweet boy, she wanted you so much..."
We also pray with our children. Thanking God for our adoptions is just one part of those prayers. I occasionally tell Will his story. But I ALWAYS pray for his birth parents and thank God that they chose us to ADOPT him into our family. I make sure to use that specific word in conjunction with the concept of him being our son. Sometimes I show Will the one picture I have of us with his birth parents. I explain who they are and how happy I am that they picked us.
These are easy ways to talk about adoption before it gets awkward. We can build on what they understand and use a scaffolding method to increase their knowledge as they grow and begin to think clearly for themselves. If you are considering adoption or have a very young adopted child, I would highly suggest beginning by telling them their story. Or even just whispering into their ear, "I'm so glad we were able to bring you into our family through adoption."
If your children are older, it's obviously never too late to start talking to them. I know of a family who, when they met our family, were able to tell their 4th grader that he was adopted. They'd never mentioned it to him before. He said something about Garrett having a black brother and they used that perfect opportunity to explain adoption and share with him that he'd come into their family the same way. He handled it so well. She later shared with me and I was so grateful to have played some small role in their journey of full disclosure to their son.
You may not be able to tell your older child a super basic story anymore--their cognitive development is way too advanced--but you can still use the storytelling method. Kids LOVE stories and they're narcissistic little buggers so they love stories about themselves even more. "We are going to tell you the story of how you joined our family. It's a beautiful story filled with love and waiting..." Tell them how desperate you were for them. Because if we adoptive parents share anything, it's a knowledge that we all lived in blind desperation for the children we longed for and now have. Be completely honest with your children. This doesn't mean telling them everything if parts of their stories are painful or detrimental to their psychological well being. It just means that you don't lie. EVER. If you lie to them, and they ever find out, you have discredited yourself entirely. If you find that you have lied to your child regarding their adoption story, own it. Kids FORGIVE. "I'm sorry. I wasn't honest because this is sometimes hard for me. Can you forgive me. Let me tell you what really happened..."
And finally, be okay with the questions and the statements. If they hurt your heart, so be it. You are bigger and older and more mature and you can handle a little, "I want to live with my mom and sisters." I promise you can handle it. I did. My son told me this very thing when he was about six. I knew he didn't want to leave me or the only life he'd ever known. He just wanted to meet them and know them and his language skills could only go so far in conveying his emotions. I recognized this and survived it and, I'm certain my son is better for my not having freaked out on him. "YOU WANT TO DO WHAT?"
It's never too soon to talk to our children. Day 1. Day 2,792. Make today your day. If you already talk honestly with your children, bring it up again today. Allow them to set the tone but make sure that you always have open lines of communication. If they are hesitant to talk about it, do not force them. Simply tell them that you are always, always willing to hear from them about this subject. In allowing them the chance to discuss their adoptions, we create foundations of trust and hem them in tighter to the family God has placed them in.
1. Baxter, Cecilia, MD. "Understanding Adoption: A Developmental Approach" Paediatrics Child Health. 2001 May-Jun; 6(5): 281-283. Web. 22 Jun. 2018. <https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2804559/>
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
Tribe
TRIBE n.
1. a social group comprising numerous families, clans, or generations
2. a group of persons having a common character, occupation, or interest
I recently started a Facebook community designed for adoptive/foster families, birth families, adoptees, and those who love them. All are welcome! It is a place where we can learn, inquire, and grow as we share our stories, relate to one another, and seek to understand.
The members differ in situation, position, religion, location, political views, approach, and opinion, but we show respect to every member of the adoption triad as we strive for growth. We practice empathy and love, knowing that we can gain a wealth of knowledge through the gift of one another. It is a place where you can find an adoption tribe as you strive to build your child's familial one. Members are invited to contribute, discuss, and explore as well as invite others to join.
I have been a mother through adoption since 2009. The deeper into my journey I get, the more I realize that I want to use my own voice to advocate for healthy adoptions. In order to shape others, I must first be sure that I am growing and gaining knowledge in my own relationship with the sons who came to me through adoption. I feel that the very best way to do this is to listen to the voices of adult adoptees, birth families, and other adoptive families.
In May of this year (2018) my nine-year-old son and I traveled to Texas to see his birth family (maternal side). He hadn't seen them since he was an infant. The experience had a profound impact on us both and I returned home wanting to do more to be a voice for healthy open adoption. I have been blessed to have had the friendship of a now adult adoptee for the past 29 years. Her perspective and insight has been invaluable as I walk through the parenting of my children. I have also been given the gift of friends who have placed children for adoption. When we open dialogue with members of each point of the adoption triad, we enrich our lives, gain perspective, and learn from one another.
If you feel you would benefit from a community in which you can share, ask questions, seek advice, and meet other people involved in adoption, please consider joining us.
Tribe is a closed community designed to protect its members and the sometimes sensitive things they share. If you would like to join, please send an email to loribassham@yahoo.com . I will use your email address to send you an invitation to join our group.
I look forward to "meeting" you and learning more about your adoption story.
Sunday, June 17, 2018
The Day He Came
What is born in the sea
even if carried deep into
the breast of land
made dry in the desert
sage in the mountains
or sweetened in the orchards
shall yet and always carry that
old and familiar salt
-Jaiya John
Matthew is an introvert. He doesn't get that from me and he doesn't get it from his mother. But there you have it. He is quiet, shy, and anxious around others until he becomes completely comfortable in a situation. Then, and only then, does that funny and bubbly boy emerge. To this end, he doesn't make friends easily. He'd rather have one or two good buddies--or a backyard and his own imagination--than a room full of friends.
And so, I worried about our trip to Texas. I didn't lose sleep but I was prepared to watch my boy "turtle up" as we met his family. His quietness has, on more than one occasion, been perceived as rudeness and that was the last thing I wanted him equated with on this trip.
I needn't have worried. "What is born in the sea...shall yet and always carry that old and familiar salt." It was as though he'd known them forever. And, in some way, he had. All those 40 weeks spent dwelling inside her body. Swimming. Growing. Kicking. Hearing her voice. Knowing the gentle sway of the steps taken by her feet. His older sisters were there those 280 days. Buried somewhere in the recesses of his mind, is there the memory of Mama singing them to sleep while he struggled to Begin? Has he known them all these years because he knew them then?
He is there, in the car with me. Every step he has taken to this point has been difficult. He has only shared moments with me but it is there on his face when we board the plane. It is there over his eggs and bacon in the hotel--he seems somehow smaller and he uncharacteristically asks me to help him. It is heard in the nearly inaudible sigh from the backseat as we make the drive. And yet, his eyes dance with the excitement of what is finally coming.
"I'm really nervous," he says as we pull up in front of their home. I have every intention, the moment those words hit my ears, to take his hands, look him in the eyes, and tell him to breathe. I will pray over him. I will let him take as long as he needs before we make the journey from car to front door. But she appears from thin air, bending down, her face at the driver's side window. Her smile, broad. It is the smile I remember from our time together in years gone by, identical to the one that spreads joy across the face of our boy.
As I open the door I say, "Well she's here..." We throw arms around each other and, like water over stones in a brook, she spills, "I had to take a walk. I got so nervous."
I whisper, almost silently, into her ear, "He's nervous too." Whether to give him time or out of sheer excitement, she turns and runs up the walkway, yelling to her daughters. Two of them pour from the house. Everything is happening so quickly. I glance at Matthew and he is stoic. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth but he walks cautiously, a trait that comes from his father, no doubt, because it isn't from this maternal side of the family.
One sister calls to another, "Get out here! It's Matthew, he's really here!" and then, before speaking to him, she runs back inside. "Come on!" I hear her yell, "Matthew's here!" I realize I'm holding my breath. It is as though she's played this moment so many times, but he was always just a figment of her imagination.
This day, though. This day he has come.
They bubble. All of them extroverted and clamoring for his attention. He is the audience they have waited for all these years.
They bubble. All of them extroverted and clamoring for his attention. He is the audience they have waited for all these years.
There are hugs and introductions. The littlest one, no doubt the most confused by all of this, is enamored and spends the better part of two days touching him. Holding his hand. Kissing his face. Glued to his side. Matthew slides into the role of big brother. I've seen it with Will. It's the role he was born to play.
My boy has always hated germs. Slobbery kisses from five-year-old girls, forget about it. Unless it's his little sister. She is not a stranger. She is instantly his girl.
He finds his family hilarious. I can tell by the soft chuckle he emits and the coy smile he employs when they say something funny. He is hilarious, too, and it seems to dawn on him that his silly sense of humor might run through the blood in his veins. He hears stories and sees pictures that make him smile.
At the end of the first day, we are both exhausted. He falls fast asleep while I'm in the shower. I crawl into bed next to him and place my hand on his soft cheek. I feel like the luckiest mom in the world--this amazing kid is asleep on the pillow next to mine. I'm processing things I didn't plan to process. Like the fact that when he says, "Mom," he means me and it makes me bristle a little. I feel like I've stolen the title and a part of me wants to sit down and really explain that I know how blessed I am that she allows me to use it. She is so easy on me and with me and she always has been. Whatever she has struggled through behind closed doors, I have been shown great grace and mercy and love. I stare at his face and I start to cry.
I can't decide if it's exhaustion or life or both.
The next day he makes more memories. Little Sister hangs on to him as though he'll disappear if she lets go. Big Sister asks me to promise to come back next summer and I swallow the lump in my throat. Because I cannot make promises even though I want to. For these siblings. For this mother. For this boy. But I have always said that in adoption we must take it one moment at a time. I cannot plan for 525,600 moments from now. Mama spins him in a circle and says she won't ever let him go. I can't possibly know the feeling. Biggest Sister hitches a ride from me to a friend's house and shares an extra five minutes with him. This doesn't surprise me at all. She's an adult now but I will always see the nine-year-old girl who wanted her unborn baby brother to have a golden retriever and a good life.
Our adopted children are their families. They look like them. They sound like them. They share character traits and blood. If they are born in the sea, they may leave and prosper and grow and change in remarkable and wonderful ways but, they will always carry with them the ocean's salt.
We fell right back into our life here when we returned. At nine, my son seems content to live in the world he's always known. This is, of course, a current peace that I will not take for granted. When an adult adoptee friend found out we were going to see Matthew's family, she said, "I promise you are...creating the strongest foundation of trust with him."
My hope is that he finds a way to thrive in the sage of the mountains or the sweetened orchards but that he always feels accepted as the savory salt of the sea.
Thursday, June 7, 2018
Who Does This Child Belong To?
"We should not be asking who this child belongs to, but who belongs to this child." -James L. Gritter
I'll lay it out for you. Nice and honest. I felt defensive and threatened when I first started learning about open adoption. But this will be MY child. I will change this baby's diapers. I will kiss this child's boo-boos. I will rub this kid's back when the flu strikes and the vomit flows. I didn't really want to share. Somewhere along the way, someone told me that open adoption is biblical adoption and somewhere along the way I began to research the effects of open adoption on children and somewhere along the way, my views began to change.
But what would it look like?
Pictures and letters.
It would look like pictures and letters because my child would need the comfort and stability of knowing that we are his family.
Right?
You see, I hadn't met my child yet. And I hadn't met his mother.
Every circumstance within adoption is unique. Some children are taken by the state for reasons. Some parents are absolutely incapable of raising their kids. Sometimes there is abuse and it is not in the best interest of the child to see his parents. I know this. I am so thankful that isn't Matthew's story but I know it's the story of countless children.
Perhaps, in those situations, open adoption does look like pictures and letters only. And that's okay. But what's vital, for our children, is that we do not shame their first family. For in shaming the family, we inadvertently shame the child. In refusing to talk about the first family, we silence the child. In failing to discuss adoption openly and honestly, we express to our child that their past cannot be a part of their future--that it is to be forgotten. In waiting to tell our children about adoption at all, we suggest that it is something of a secret. We turn our trust into a bomb waiting to detonate.
From the moment I laid eyes on my newborn son, I wanted the very best for him. I wanted what was best for him at one, four, five, nine years of age but I wanted to make every decision based on what was best for him at eighteen, twenty, thirty years old as well. If I can make a decision now that will help him to create positive relationships with his family when he's an adult then I'm going to do it. People have asked me if it's hard. People have told me that they could never "share" their child. I'm sure it is nothing less than the Spirit in me--guiding me, convicting me, growing me, sanctifying me--but I can't imagine not sharing my child. I believe, simply, that it is impossible to be loved too much. Why would I deny my child more love? From the woman who bore him, no less.
And so, when Matthew's mom called me up and invited us to his older sister's high school graduation, my heart screamed yes. He's been longing to meet them and this presented the perfect opportunity. There were hurdles to leap, schedules to arrange, bosses to ask for time off work, but I would have lassoed the moon to get him there.
It would look like pictures and letters because my child would need the comfort and stability of knowing that we are his family.
Right?
You see, I hadn't met my child yet. And I hadn't met his mother.
Every circumstance within adoption is unique. Some children are taken by the state for reasons. Some parents are absolutely incapable of raising their kids. Sometimes there is abuse and it is not in the best interest of the child to see his parents. I know this. I am so thankful that isn't Matthew's story but I know it's the story of countless children.
Perhaps, in those situations, open adoption does look like pictures and letters only. And that's okay. But what's vital, for our children, is that we do not shame their first family. For in shaming the family, we inadvertently shame the child. In refusing to talk about the first family, we silence the child. In failing to discuss adoption openly and honestly, we express to our child that their past cannot be a part of their future--that it is to be forgotten. In waiting to tell our children about adoption at all, we suggest that it is something of a secret. We turn our trust into a bomb waiting to detonate.
From the moment I laid eyes on my newborn son, I wanted the very best for him. I wanted what was best for him at one, four, five, nine years of age but I wanted to make every decision based on what was best for him at eighteen, twenty, thirty years old as well. If I can make a decision now that will help him to create positive relationships with his family when he's an adult then I'm going to do it. People have asked me if it's hard. People have told me that they could never "share" their child. I'm sure it is nothing less than the Spirit in me--guiding me, convicting me, growing me, sanctifying me--but I can't imagine not sharing my child. I believe, simply, that it is impossible to be loved too much. Why would I deny my child more love? From the woman who bore him, no less.
And so, when Matthew's mom called me up and invited us to his older sister's high school graduation, my heart screamed yes. He's been longing to meet them and this presented the perfect opportunity. There were hurdles to leap, schedules to arrange, bosses to ask for time off work, but I would have lassoed the moon to get him there.
Our two days were filled with family fun. I had thought that I would be in full time therapist mode as I helped Matthew through whatever this experience meant for him. Instead, he sailed through, in some ways, as though he'd always known them all. As for myself, I had to unpack a little more psychologically but it was absolutely worth it. Because whatever we have to wrestle with--as adoptee, as adoptive parent, as birth mother, as birth siblings--the smiles and the laughter, the memories and the stories influence it all.
I can tell you that no question and no feeling and no expression of that feeling is off limits for Matthew. Over the course of his life, there have been nights of hysterical tears and questions I can't answer and questions I try to answer. My friend, an adult adoptee, who was once the only seven-year-old I knew who'd been adopted, said, "No matter how young, adopted children experience a loss that every cell in their body experiences, even if mental cognition is too young to consciously grasp it yet."
I have always wanted to acknowledge the primal wound and the adoption related grief--to never force my child to be quiet or to process it like an adult would. I'm sure I'm screwing up on a daily basis, but I want to be a part of the solution and never a part of the problem.
The school my children attend happens to be the school that employs me and happens to be a Leader in Me school. We use Dr. Covey's The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People to teach and inform our students. Habit #5 says, "Seek First to Understand, Then to be Understood."
The essence of this habit is a temperament that favors curiosity,
open-mindedness, empathy, and patience--all rolled into one.
In order to really seek to understand, you cannot have already
judged a person or situation. You need to develop a desire to
understand--meaning a desire to see things from others' point
of view, to see their reasons, and feel what they feel. --Mike Strum
open-mindedness, empathy, and patience--all rolled into one.
In order to really seek to understand, you cannot have already
judged a person or situation. You need to develop a desire to
understand--meaning a desire to see things from others' point
of view, to see their reasons, and feel what they feel. --Mike Strum
The children who have come to me through adoption need to know that my shoulders are broad enough to hold their pain. They need to understand that I am mature enough to put their insecurity before my own. They need to believe that I am confident enough to handle their emotion without making it about me. They need to know that I will seek to understand them before I insist on being understood.
I am an advocate for adoption and for adoption reform. That means that I will honor their first family's place in their lives. I wish that more adoptive parents understood that sharing the title of mother and father with another--in whatever way that manifests itself within their unique situation--is not a threat. It is absolutely vital for our children.
I want to reiterate that this looks different in every situation. It will look different for my two-year-old than it does for my nine-year-old. Some birth parents will desire distance and some will long for closeness. Some adoptees will push for connectedness while others push against it. Some birth parents have made egregious mistakes from which there is no turning back. Some have made choices due to circumstance and situation and they will learn and grow and change. We must understand that adoption is like the ocean, ebbing and flowing, twisting and turning. It is new every morning. The adoptive parents must adjust and process and accept that the only way to navigate this is to be willing to listen, to understand, and to take each moment at a time.
Open adoption is not what I thought it was. Praise God. It is not the threat to my family that I once imagined. It is his shy smirk when she tells him he ferociously kicked her morning, noon, and night in the womb. It is his birth mother giving him the things that I cannot. It is me giving him what she cannot. In truth, it is the beautiful white flash of the identical smiles of my son and his mother. And it is the mess of the life we all live and the child we all love.
Monday, June 4, 2018
Interview on Behalf of a Two Year Old
I interview each of my kids on their birthdays and keep record of that here on my blog. Will, while a grand talker, isn't quite communicative enough to answer interview questions although I have high hopes for next year. So this is not actually an interview. It's just me filling in the blanks for him. Here goes nothing.
1. What is your favorite T.V. Show? Daniel Tiger. Although he now thoroughly enjoys Peppa Pig and Paw Patrol.
1. What is your favorite T.V. Show? Daniel Tiger. Although he now thoroughly enjoys Peppa Pig and Paw Patrol.
2. What did you have for breakfast? Yogurt. (In case I'm reading this later in life and wondering why I only gave my toddler son yogurt, he has a sore throat. The remnant of an icky virus.)
3. What do you want to name your future son? He'll probably follow recent horrible naming trends and do something like Jagger or Basil.
4. Favorite Food? Pizza and blueberries.
5. What food do you dislike? Avocado. Anything he simply doesn't feel like eating at the time.
6. What is your favorite color? I have no idea.
7. Favorite lunch? He likes PB&J usually.
8. What is your favorite thing to do? Undo whatever we've just done. Also, baseball is a pretty intense obsession.
9. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? Anywhere with his family, I'm sure.
10. Favorite sport? Baseball.
11. What do you want to name your future daughter? See #3. Probably McKindrie. Or Basil. I feel like Basil works (read: DOES NOT WORK) for a boy or a girl.
12. Are you a morning person or a night person? Morning.
13. Pets? Tessie. Hamilton. Ollie. And currently a golden retriever puppy who hasn't gone to her new home yet.
14. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? He talk talk talks all the time.
15. What do you want to be when you grow up? A baseball player.
16. What is your favorite candy? ALL OF THEM. But he really enjoys M&Ms and Skittles.
17. Where is the farthest place you've ever been from home? Phoenix, I think.
18. What is your favorite book? It changes often. Currently, it's probably a book about a helicopter.
19. What are you most proud of? Learning new things every day.
20. What is your favorite movie? He does not even remotely have the attention span involved in movie watching.
21. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? He doesn't care. I'm just glad I can finally get him to eat the occasional bite of egg.
And, for fun, the questions that James Lipton asks at the end of Inside the Actor's Studio.
1. What is your favorite word? NO! I mean, it must be. He says it 82,000 times a day.
2. What is your least favorite word? No. (If it's being said to him.)
3. What turns you on? (I rephrased with, "What do you like?") Baseball and Daniel Tiger
4. What turns you off? (I rephrased with, "What don't you like?") Having to go to bed before everyone else.
5. What sound or noise do you love? Music.
6. What sound or noise do you hate? His parents when we are disciplining him.
3. What do you want to name your future son? He'll probably follow recent horrible naming trends and do something like Jagger or Basil.
4. Favorite Food? Pizza and blueberries.
5. What food do you dislike? Avocado. Anything he simply doesn't feel like eating at the time.
6. What is your favorite color? I have no idea.
7. Favorite lunch? He likes PB&J usually.
8. What is your favorite thing to do? Undo whatever we've just done. Also, baseball is a pretty intense obsession.
9. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? Anywhere with his family, I'm sure.
10. Favorite sport? Baseball.
11. What do you want to name your future daughter? See #3. Probably McKindrie. Or Basil. I feel like Basil works (read: DOES NOT WORK) for a boy or a girl.
12. Are you a morning person or a night person? Morning.
13. Pets? Tessie. Hamilton. Ollie. And currently a golden retriever puppy who hasn't gone to her new home yet.
14. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? He talk talk talks all the time.
15. What do you want to be when you grow up? A baseball player.
16. What is your favorite candy? ALL OF THEM. But he really enjoys M&Ms and Skittles.
17. Where is the farthest place you've ever been from home? Phoenix, I think.
18. What is your favorite book? It changes often. Currently, it's probably a book about a helicopter.
19. What are you most proud of? Learning new things every day.
20. What is your favorite movie? He does not even remotely have the attention span involved in movie watching.
21. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? He doesn't care. I'm just glad I can finally get him to eat the occasional bite of egg.
And, for fun, the questions that James Lipton asks at the end of Inside the Actor's Studio.
1. What is your favorite word? NO! I mean, it must be. He says it 82,000 times a day.
2. What is your least favorite word? No. (If it's being said to him.)
3. What turns you on? (I rephrased with, "What do you like?") Baseball and Daniel Tiger
4. What turns you off? (I rephrased with, "What don't you like?") Having to go to bed before everyone else.
5. What sound or noise do you love? Music.
6. What sound or noise do you hate? His parents when we are disciplining him.
7. What is your favorite curse word? Well, I mean, he says a certain one A LOT when he is attempting to say Fork.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Baseball player or Lead Singer in the Band.
9. What profession would you not like to do? Anything where he'd have to sit still.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Baseball player or Lead Singer in the Band.
9. What profession would you not like to do? Anything where he'd have to sit still.
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? (I omitted the "If Heaven exists" part)? On behalf of my child, I hope that he leads a life worthy of the response, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."
Sunday, June 3, 2018
On Your Second Birthday
Dear Will,
I don't know why I find it surprising that time flies when you're raising kids. Your brother is already nearly two thirds of the way to 18 so the fact that you are two should come as no earthly surprise. But it kind of still feels like that moment when the very first picture I'd ever seen of you came flashing onto my cell phone screen.
I don't know why I find it surprising that time flies when you're raising kids. Your brother is already nearly two thirds of the way to 18 so the fact that you are two should come as no earthly surprise. But it kind of still feels like that moment when the very first picture I'd ever seen of you came flashing onto my cell phone screen.
My goodness, I was instantly in love. I am and will always be so thankful that your mom chose us--out of all the families--to be yours. You are perpetual motion and everlasting energy. You're busy. You're crazy. You're a handful and a half. But in all the chasing and wrangling and "no" yelling and time outing, you bounce through life--this little extroverted, outgoing, friendly ball of joy. Your smile and giggle are infectious. Your hugs, tender and heartfelt. Your curls, perfect. I love every inch of you so very much.
You are so tiny but intensely mighty. There really isn't an ounce of fat on your skinny-highest-metabolism-ever body. Yet, there is a fierceness to the way you live your live. On fire with an energy that cannot be contained.
You talk SO MUCH BETTER than either of your brothers did at two. I just didn't even know boys could be this verbal this early. I know that's a gross generalization and stereotype but honestly. I just didn't know a not-even-two-year-old could look at me and say, "Mommy, my mouf* hurt." Like. What? How are you basically fully communicating with me at two?
I exaggerate. I can actually only understand about a third of what you say. But, as soon as those other two thirds become clear, you'll have full command of the English language. It's adorable. Your little voice is, quite simply, the world's cutest thing.
Baseball. My goodness, kid. You're obsessed. You spend all of your brothers' games trying to steal equipment so that you can swing bats, wear batting helmets, throw balls, and wear gloves. You LOVE to run the bases which basically means that you swing the bat, drop the bat, and run a series of quick circles wherever you're standing. You will straight up sit on the couch and watch A GOOD AMOUNT of a baseball game which is astounding given your short attention span and the fact that, only very recently did you start to watch any television at all.
Really. As for movies, there's no way you'll sit still long enough to watch an entire movie. I think we got through the first five minutes of Cars before you abandoned it. Ever so thankfully (to my own sanity and because I'm never in the running for mama of the year) you have finally started watching Daniel Tiger, Peppa Pig, and Paw Patrol.
You sleep SO well. I recently took away your beloved pacifier, telling you that they're for babies and you're a big boy. You cried for all of fifteen minutes total and that was that. Bye bye, Paci. Even without it, you sleep from about 7:30-7:00 and you nap for 2-3 hours. I don't know why I complain about your ability to climb the walls during your waking hours. I'd climb them too if I was sleeping roughly 14 hours out of every day. But boy howdy kiddo do I ever need those 14 hours because you are actually like a pinball when you're awake--darting from here to there and everywhere.
I love you so much. I love the laughter and joy you bring to our family with your excited spirit. I love how you say hi to everyone and wave to everyone and believe that everyone is your very best friend. You are so incredibly amazing. I thank God for you. I thank Him for showing me that, "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning." Thank you for being YOU. Crazy, amazing, wonderful, you.
Love,
Mom
*Mouth.
Friday, May 25, 2018
Puppy Update
Oh my goodness. I'm ashamed of my lack of blogging. I mean, the least I could do is throw up a limerick or something to let people know that I'm still alive. I have been buried under END OF THE SCHOOL YEAR and EIGHT TODDLER PUPPIES and ONE TODDLER WILL and planning summer trips and I honestly feel like every single plate I'm spinning is about to teeter off and shatter into a million pieces.
Here's an update on our adorable puppies for anyone who cares. Currently, the puppies are 7 and a half weeks old and 4 of them remain in our home.
Puppy One, Leia, as we called her has gone to her new family. We just love them. She was the first to go and they've been so good about sending pictures. Her new name is Sky and she went to a family with three kids. Since she went first, I shed a few tears snuggling her close before her family came.
Puppy Two, Chewbacca, joined his new family tonight. They also have kids and had to put their beloved golden down last fall. He'll be so well loved with them. I don't know his new name yet but letting him go was hard. I didn't cry but he had so much personality that there were moments where I wondered if I might cave and keep him.
Puppy Three, Skywalker, is still here with us and still for sale. He's, in my opinion, our most gorgeous puppy although they are seriously all so adorable. He's calm and snuggly and I am baffled that no one has snatched him up yet.
Puppy Four, Jyn, is loved and adored by her new family but she's still living with us. She has to stay here until they're back in Salt Lake in a few weeks. We love her tons but we'll be happy when she is reunited with her forever family and her sweet kid sister. Her new name is Daisy.
Puppy Five, Sabine, left on Wednesday to join her forever family. They're grandparents with no kids left at home. Khloe, as she is called now, will be well loved. Her new family couldn't wait to get her home. They've sent a picture and video and she's doing well.
Puppy Six, Obi, went to his new family--our good good friends--yesterday. She has a big golden sister and lots of daycare kids (including my own Will) to shower him with love. We're so happy that we get to see Wesley whenever we hang with them and whenever they go on vacation since we swap dog sitting duties with them.
Puppy Seven, Finn, is still with us and still available for purchase. He's an adventurous fellow who loves to explore. But he's still happy to snuggle and cuddle. He looks a lot like Skywalker and will be a great asset to his forever family.
Puppy Eight, Rey, leaves us on Tuesday. She is flying to Massachusetts and she'll be missed. Her new family cannot wait for her though and she is going to be a swimming, hiking, possibly hunting dog. They have a toddler and another dog already so she will have a great life. Stella, as they'll call her, is the spitting image of Tessie.
So there you have it. We're down to four in our home but two of them are already sold. With two to go we're hoping to find them their forever homes this weekend.
Here's an update on our adorable puppies for anyone who cares. Currently, the puppies are 7 and a half weeks old and 4 of them remain in our home.
Puppy One, Leia, as we called her has gone to her new family. We just love them. She was the first to go and they've been so good about sending pictures. Her new name is Sky and she went to a family with three kids. Since she went first, I shed a few tears snuggling her close before her family came.
Puppy Two, Chewbacca, joined his new family tonight. They also have kids and had to put their beloved golden down last fall. He'll be so well loved with them. I don't know his new name yet but letting him go was hard. I didn't cry but he had so much personality that there were moments where I wondered if I might cave and keep him.
Puppy Three, Skywalker, is still here with us and still for sale. He's, in my opinion, our most gorgeous puppy although they are seriously all so adorable. He's calm and snuggly and I am baffled that no one has snatched him up yet.
Puppy Four, Jyn, is loved and adored by her new family but she's still living with us. She has to stay here until they're back in Salt Lake in a few weeks. We love her tons but we'll be happy when she is reunited with her forever family and her sweet kid sister. Her new name is Daisy.
Puppy Five, Sabine, left on Wednesday to join her forever family. They're grandparents with no kids left at home. Khloe, as she is called now, will be well loved. Her new family couldn't wait to get her home. They've sent a picture and video and she's doing well.
Puppy Six, Obi, went to his new family--our good good friends--yesterday. She has a big golden sister and lots of daycare kids (including my own Will) to shower him with love. We're so happy that we get to see Wesley whenever we hang with them and whenever they go on vacation since we swap dog sitting duties with them.
Puppy Seven, Finn, is still with us and still available for purchase. He's an adventurous fellow who loves to explore. But he's still happy to snuggle and cuddle. He looks a lot like Skywalker and will be a great asset to his forever family.
Puppy Eight, Rey, leaves us on Tuesday. She is flying to Massachusetts and she'll be missed. Her new family cannot wait for her though and she is going to be a swimming, hiking, possibly hunting dog. They have a toddler and another dog already so she will have a great life. Stella, as they'll call her, is the spitting image of Tessie.
So there you have it. We're down to four in our home but two of them are already sold. With two to go we're hoping to find them their forever homes this weekend.
Monday, May 7, 2018
When You're Raising Hurricane William and Eight Puppies at the Same Time
Whew. It's been forever. I'm a terrible blogger. To my two loyal readers, thank you for sticking around and waiting for me to post once every moon cycle. It's just...busy. I'm in my final month of my first year of part time teaching. I have a toddler who is better described as Hurricane William. AND WE HAVE EIGHT FIVE WEEK OLD PUPPIES. Have you ever met eight five week old puppies? Have you ever tried to take care of eight five week old puppies and a toddler? Have you ever tried to do this while your older two boys play baseball like every night?
Good times.
About Hurricane William, I posted this to Facebook the other day.
While I was vacuuming two rooms, my not-quite-two-year-old managed to flood the entire bathroom while he practiced brushing his teeth with his brother's toothbrush. While I cleaned that mess, he got hold of the bible study book that I'm working through. The book didn't stand a chance against the combination highlighter/ink pen he'd also found. "Mom Set Free: Good news for moms who are tired of trying to be good enough." My kid wrecked the cover of a study about moms not living up to the standard we have in our own minds. I had to laugh at that while also instructing my son more perfectly about where we do and do not color. I put him into his seat with a piece of paper, a pencil, and an apple. Naturally, he's stabbing the apple with the pencil and ignoring the paper. Welcome, folks, to the William Administration.
(A lot of bonus points if you correctly identify the fun reference in the paragraph above.)
He's a total joy and a half. Don't get me wrong at all. He's just a very energetic joy. He's incredibly fun because I've never had a child who exploded with language before their second birthday. This kid will repeat anything and speaks roughly a million words unprompted. Tonight he announced, "My pickle!" The other night, after a baseball game, he yelled to our friend, "Bye-bye, Jeremy!" Whenever any of my kids start talking, I tend to think they're the only human being who ever had the capacity to learn language. It doesn't matter that this is number three. Each one blows me away.
PUPPIES!
The puppies were born looking like partially furry rats. Now, just five weeks later, they are at full blown adorable golden retriever puppy capacity. I am fairly certain they cannot and will not ever be cuter than they are right now. They bound after us which causes endless toddler squeals all day long. They wrestle and hop and pounce and fall asleep all over each other. We've found a forever home for one of them and are still looking for 7 more.
They are fantastic. We love every single one. If we can't sell them and you're reading this blog, chances are there's a free golden retriever coming your way. YOU GET A PUPPY AND YOU GET A PUPPY AND YOU GET A PUPPY!
But look at them...
Also, they are great with cats and toddlers. Even energetically joyful toddlers. Come to think of it, Will is a lot like a golden retriever puppy.
Good times.
About Hurricane William, I posted this to Facebook the other day.
While I was vacuuming two rooms, my not-quite-two-year-old managed to flood the entire bathroom while he practiced brushing his teeth with his brother's toothbrush. While I cleaned that mess, he got hold of the bible study book that I'm working through. The book didn't stand a chance against the combination highlighter/ink pen he'd also found. "Mom Set Free: Good news for moms who are tired of trying to be good enough." My kid wrecked the cover of a study about moms not living up to the standard we have in our own minds. I had to laugh at that while also instructing my son more perfectly about where we do and do not color. I put him into his seat with a piece of paper, a pencil, and an apple. Naturally, he's stabbing the apple with the pencil and ignoring the paper. Welcome, folks, to the William Administration.
(A lot of bonus points if you correctly identify the fun reference in the paragraph above.)
He's a total joy and a half. Don't get me wrong at all. He's just a very energetic joy. He's incredibly fun because I've never had a child who exploded with language before their second birthday. This kid will repeat anything and speaks roughly a million words unprompted. Tonight he announced, "My pickle!" The other night, after a baseball game, he yelled to our friend, "Bye-bye, Jeremy!" Whenever any of my kids start talking, I tend to think they're the only human being who ever had the capacity to learn language. It doesn't matter that this is number three. Each one blows me away.
PUPPIES!
The puppies were born looking like partially furry rats. Now, just five weeks later, they are at full blown adorable golden retriever puppy capacity. I am fairly certain they cannot and will not ever be cuter than they are right now. They bound after us which causes endless toddler squeals all day long. They wrestle and hop and pounce and fall asleep all over each other. We've found a forever home for one of them and are still looking for 7 more.
They are fantastic. We love every single one. If we can't sell them and you're reading this blog, chances are there's a free golden retriever coming your way. YOU GET A PUPPY AND YOU GET A PUPPY AND YOU GET A PUPPY!
But look at them...
This little one found her forever family and I couldn't be happier. We have been hoping and praying that we'd just have a real peace about the people who are interested in our puppies. This one is going home to a family who has owned goldens in the past. They have kids and a yard. I know she'll be well loved. That will make it so much easier to say goodbye.
I really do love each and every one of them so much. But owning a whole litter of golden retrievers is a tad bit excessive so if you or someone you know is interested in a pure bred, AKC puppy with OFA certified parents, let me know! They come with full breeding rights. We're willing to relocate them if we find a great home.
Also, they are great with cats and toddlers. Even energetically joyful toddlers. Come to think of it, Will is a lot like a golden retriever puppy.
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