Adoption

As a baby, I was adopted.  I remember when my mom told me--I was 5, we were driving down the road in the family pick-up.  Dad was driving, my brother, Mom and I were all riding along.  I had seen something on the news that said children who are breastfed were healthier. 

Being not athletically gifted, I was one of the slowest runners in PE.  I was also one of the youngest in my class--an August birthday--so that probably had something to do with it as well.  Anyway, I made the connection that perhaps I ran slowly because I hadn't been breastfed.  I doubt I even knew what that meant. 

I asked Mom and she told me I had been adopted as a baby so no, she hadn't breastfed me.

I've always known I was adopted.  I've always understood that my birth mother did it because she loved me and knew she couldn't provide the best life for me.  She did it as a gift of love.

There came a time when I was about 14 that I realized that I felt like I had been rejected by her and because of it, I was unworthy of love.  When I realized that, I made the choice to give that insecurity to God and let Him fill that hole in my heart.  I forgave my birth mother (in my heart) and chose to accept God's full, complete love for me.

Wow.  That was 20 years ago now.  I had been warned that when I had children I could possibly have to deal with "adoption stuff" again.  I think if I would have had girls it may have been more of an issue.  But I still struggle from time to time.

I read a book last summer that says many Christians are like the older brother in the parable of the prodigal son.  We look down our noses on others who don't follow the rules or measure up to our standard.  We work to achieve salvation.  By doing so, we miss the whole point of Jesus:  he came to earth to save us.  Instead of accepting his free gift, we choose legalism.

I grew up trying to prove I was good enough.  As an adult, I accept that I'll never be good enough.  I can only give my best daily to follow Jesus so that His light can shine through me for others to see.

All this was stirred up by my silly Australian soap opera I watch.  The current storyline is that the heroine had a baby at 15.  (Ironically, about the age of my birth mother) and her dad forced her to give the baby to her sister to raise as her own.

Now, the girl is 14 and ticked that this secret was kept from her.  The thing that jarred me was the even as a child, I understood that my birth mother loved me more than herself by giving me away.  She made a very hard choice, and did it as a gift of love to me.  The teen on the show was just very mad that her aunt hadn't kept her. 

I realize that drama has to happen for good TV, but it made me wonder why it's so deep inside me that adoption was the best choice for me.  I think it had a lot to do with the fact that I was raised that way.  In my parents' eyes, financial security and godly values = a good home.  My birth mother, for whatever reason, chose to provide those things for me by choosing another family for me.

Mine was a closed adoption.  I know very little and what I do know was told to my parents by someone at the adoption agency.  As far as I know they never met her.  I know she is red headed, had a Czech descent and was "curvy."   She was short.  My birth father signed the paperwork, so we know he was in the picture.  I have the impression they were still in high school.  And she chose my parents for me.

I promised my Mom back in high school I wouldn't go about finding my birth mother.  For us to meet up, I would have to pursue her and she would also have to pursue me.  In many ways, it's easier not knowing.  I have a full life, filled with a family who loves me.  By marrying into Aaron's family, I have found such joy.  His family is wonderful and they accept me just as I am.  I always wanted a sister and in my sister-in-law, my wish came true.  Also, my church family is an amazing extended family to me that provides many fulfilling female relationships.

But sometimes I wonder.  I grew up fantasizing that Reba was my mom.  I later found out she's way too tall and not the right age.  I've heard this "Cinderella complex" is common for adopted kids.  Now I wonder if she's like me.  That would be nice.

More than anything else, I wish I could say thanks.  Almost 35 years ago she chose to provide for me in the best way she could.  That's an amazing thing.  May the Lord bless her richly for her decision and may He grant her His peace that I turned out just fine.

Meerkat peer pressure

I haven't posted for a while.  The main reason is that I was out of town for 10 days with my parents and kids.  While on vacation, I unplugged except for a few texts to friends and my husband who didn't go on the vacation.

We've been home for 6 days now and I think I'm going through emotional post-traumatic stress disorder.  I mean no insult to soldiers or first responders who actual deal with this, but dude, being in a fish bowl with my very active little boys while my parents are watching just wears me out.

I have tons of fantastic memories of the trip.  We went to the beach and I got to see the wonder in my boys' eyes as they took in the vastness of God's amazing creation:  the ocean.  Wow.  I thought that moment would be neat, but it stands as one of my very favorite mom moments.

A quick side note--yesterday boy #2 asked what threatened means.  I explained briefly.  I asked "What do we do when we feel threatened?"  #2:  "Get out your gun and shoot."  I'm sure the NRA would be proud that Aaron has taught them so well.  I told him that's an option at certain times but not appropriate at others.  I asked specifically what I do when I'm threatened.  #1 melted my heart with "Mommy, you pray."  Wow.  That was one of those moments in time when I can see that the investment of my time and energy shaping my boys. 

Back to emotional coming-down.  On the trip, I felt this pressure to be "on" all the time, even sleeping in the same room as my boys, which I've never done before.  They still got up every morning at 5:30.  Yuck.  At home, I'm at peace with them getting up because they've figured out to play with each other and I've learned to do my quiet time and tune them out.  Not ideal, but it works relatively well. 

Not so in a hotel.  Suffice it to say I felt like I was keeping a lid on a tornado for much of the time of the trip.  My sweet parents did all they could to help out, but #2 became very clingy to me on the way back home which drove me crazy.

Now we're back home and I just want to draw a line around myself and not let anyone in.  I crave time alone.  I also would really like to spend time with friends but I just don't have the extra energy for their kids.  I'm just worn out of little people right now.

I've learned through the years that if I don't have the boys on a schedule I go crazy.  Left to their own devices too long they got really rough, loud and annoy me terribly.  Last week I tried to be all cool and relaxed, "enjoying summer."  What a joke!  I was not a happy woman.

By Thursday afternoon I knew something had to give.  A trip to the zoo seemed to be a perfect solution.  We met up with a friend there and had a nice time, except the boys kept getting upset we couldn't do everything we saw, like ride the carosel, the train, climb the climbing wall, etc.  They were way more enthusiastic about all of those things than the amazing animals. Their emotional outbursts wore me out as did the walking carrying a heavy bag.

I was really considering getting a season pass to the zoo.  However, after we got home, I thought through why I wanted to spend this very large quantity of money which we hadn't even budgeted.  Many of my friends have done it.  On Mondays in June, season pass holders can get in at 9 instead of 10 and do a special meerkat something.  I thought through this for a moment.  My boys don't care about meerkats and I don't really care to stoke that particular fire in them.  For it to be a savings, I have to take the boys 3 times in the next year.  It's been over a year since the last time I took them and we've lived happily.

So, here's the golden nugget:  instead of giving the zoo lots of money and feeling obligated to go numerous times this summer, I'm going to make a "home day" schedule for us.  The schedule will be loose, but it will include structured time, free time and I'll intentionally schedule things that I really enjoy, like reading Hank the Cowdog chapters and playing the piano.

When I'm not intentional, I find that I don't enjoy my days because my boys enjoy things that I really don't care for.  I get drained quickly and become really grouchy.  Yuck.  But this week I started working through Calm My Anxious Heart and it focused a lot on contentment.  The Lord promises that He gave me the cup big enough for the portion that comes my way.  Then why is it so hard to feel content?

I get that in a global sense my life is a peace of cake.  I have strong, smart, healthy boys.  We have plenty to eat, a lovely home and a comfortable lifestyle.  And yet I want to tear my hair out regularly.  How can that be?  This is just my thinking, but I think that by being so "comfortable" instead of concentrating on actual problems, like having enough food to feed our families, keeping clothes clean by exerting lots of manual labor, being concerned for the safety of our families, we fill that vacuum by being discontent.

It's time to fill the vacuum with good things.  Today I'm climbing out of my grumpy pit and prayerfully making a plan for the upcoming week that will include things that will honor God and be positive.

Losing my head

Our lovely dog made the above picture happen this morning.  A free haircut for Blondie.  Glad my boys don't care much for her--they pretty much just use her as a launching tool.

My parents are coming in this afternoon so we can pack up their car.  We head out to the beach tomorrow.  Husband is staying home so it's me, my parents and my 3 very lively boys for 2.5 days in the car both ways.  Yikes.  I wish I could be strapped to the top of the car, but that would be the easy way out.

Today I pack.  I packed all the clothes on Monday--laundry day--so today I just need to gather toys, life jackets, tooth brushes, etc.  I will make a very wonderful list in a bit.

I had a wonderful quiet time this morning.  The Lord reminded me that in this day, my job is to be pleasant, loving and kind to my kids.  My house can be a bit dirty when my parents get here.  The boys can watch more TV than normal.  My attitude is more important than the rules I try so hard to follow.  Who made those rules anyway?

This trip isn't a vacation for me.  It's a chance to explore a really beautiful part of God's creation with my boys. It's time for them to share experiences with my parents.  That's a blessing.  Will it be easy on me?  No but I can decide to not expect perfection.  I can choose to smile and roll with the punches.

I look back at hairless generic Barbie and imagine maybe she wanted a haircut.  Perhaps she was tired of her glorious locks.  Today I am going to work at letting go of control of every detail of my day and look for moments to laugh, love and enjoy my family.

Pride in sushi

Yesterday I went to the swanky (I love that word.  If you're unfamiliar, it's my way to say something is super fancy) grocery store on the other side of town.  The whole place just exudes this cool vibe, like I've walked into a really neat music video or something.

I don't go there often, but it's fun to pop in from time to time.  They also have a great sushi bar.  I love sushi, so I happily got lunch there.  The sushi chef was an inspiration to me.  We'll call him Yuri.  Not sure that's his name, but I think I saw it on his name tag.  His English wasn't great which always frustrates me. 

Since I speak Spanish, when there's a language issue, I always think I can speak Spanish and fix the communication barrier.  Clearly, this is unwise.  I did this once with a neighbor who was deaf.  Not helpful.  I also did it once at the elementary school where I worked.  I was answering the phones one day for the secretary, thinking I was great at it until a got a phone call with communication trouble.  I immediately went into Spanish.  Didn't help.  I spoke louder and slower in Spanish.  Still didn't help.  I finally realized the man was speaking in English with an Indian accent.  I felt super foolish.  Oh well.

I'm proud to say I've learned from my mistake and didn't try to speak to Yuri in Spanish.  He asked if I wanted this roll or that roll but I never quite figured out what kind they were.  I caught that one was spicy and the other not.  When I asked about it, he automatically assumed I wanted it and with impressive flourish, he fancified it and made it was beautiful.

Instead of making a big deal about not wanting that roll, I chose to try it, whatever it was.  If he was that proud of it, it couldn't be bad.  I chose not to blow the situation out of proportion and admire the pride Yuri had in his craft.  Very cool.

It made me think of my own sons and how proud they are of the projects they work on.  Mine are fixers and they love nothing more than creating a way to repair a situation. 

It made me wonder what I do in my life that I'm proud of.  Am I like Yuri, that beams with pride in my creations?  I was convicted that more times than not, my attitude is rather negative and I drag my feet through my days.  Why?  With all that God has blessed me with, I should be a songbird chirping joyfully all day long.

In this moment, I choose to be thankful and I'll try to be thankful in the next moment, too.

Slowing down

Last week 3 of the 5 of our family was sick.  I got taken down the hardest and I'm about 90% back to my usual self.  The problem is I'm not good at slowing down and accepting that I'm still 10% on the mend.

Mondays are our home day.  We clean the house, do laundry and enjoy a slower pace.  Yesterday I spent some time outside helping Aaron plant in the garden.  He loves it when I do that.  I'm not sure if he loves it because he enjoys spending the time together or if I'm just a good field hand and way more helpful than our sons.  Regardless, I did it and it was nice but it didn't help me rest much.

So today I'm going to.  I'm allowing my boys to watch an extra dino documentary while I'm writing this, before making breakfast.  I'm allowing myself that luxury.

On Saturday morning we met up with my parents.  Meeting up with them is wonderful, but it always takes me for an emotional turn.  I want them to enjoy their grandchildren, but my boys are typical boys--they are loud, fast and full of energy.  They behave at church and MDO so I really do think they'll be fine for school, but somehow my parents see their misbehavior and my inadequacies as a parent.  Ouch.

I know I'm not a perfect mom.  I'm reminded very often.  #2 challenges my authority a lot in front of my parents.  I hold my ground and am consistent with what I believe is the way to handle him.  I stay calm, refuse to wager or argue and it's unpleasant, especially with an audience.  But I know my kid and I know I'm the one God chose to raise him (along with Aaron).  I do it differently than my parents did and that's OK.

Then why do I feel like I failed?

Crossing the river

This picture describes a bit of how I feel today.  I found this toy on the floor just like this and thought I would share it.

Now on to the title of today's post.  #1 was sick last week.  I got it (strep) Sunday morning.  #3 got it Monday.  It's been a fun few days.  I tried really hard to keep it together all day Monday and my boys were as good as can be expected.  When Aaron got home at 6, I was done.  I was laying on the couch, miserable.  He took one look at me and said, "Go.  Now.  I've got this.  Get yourself to the minor emergency clinic."  I did.  2 hours later I had meds for the horrible sore throat.  2 days later I feel fine again.  Such wisdom he has.

I told him last night that I wanted to give him a back-handed compliment.  There are days when I wish he was more romantic.  A bit smoother around the edges.  A tad bit more refined.  But then life hits and he's really, really wonderful.  He'll help with sick boys in the middle of the night.  He'll clean up throw up.  He'll do what needs to get done and not whine.  So very cool.  I'm really glad he's my partner on this road of life.  If I had to choose between a showy guy or him, I would choose him any day of the week.

After this, he told me that in "cowboy talk" I had just told him I would cross the river with him.  On cattle drives, you didn't cross rivers with just anyone.  You could lose cattle, supplies, horses or your life.  You only crossed rivers with someone you knew you could depend on.  He took the compliment to heart.

When God created Aaron, he knew I would be his perfect match.  He knew it would be bumpy and not smooth waters every day, but he created us to cross the rivers of this life together.  What a blessing to know that he's by my side.

Communication

This afternoon I did something very silly.  I wrote my husband a note pretending to be Jar Jar Binks.  He will laugh.  A few days ago I went to the Just Between Friends consignment sale and got the boys a tub of dinos (huge hit by the way--go me!) and amongst the differing dinos was Jar Jar.  Aaron was offended by his presence there.  I thought it was fine.  I'm not sci fci-ish enough to go into the reasons Aaron is so bothered by Jar Jar.  I thought he was a nice addition to the Star Wars movies, but what do I know?  Not much about that whole genre. 

As the boys were playing with the dinos today I told them about my idea for Jar Jar.  I didn't read them to the note I wrote to Aaron, but #3 helped me find a spot to put it so Aaron will see it tonight when he gets home.  #3 took this very seriously.  He said, "I will protect it."  Cute!

The boys and I are going to join my parents for a trip to the beach in about a month.  There are excellent vacationers out there.  I'm not one.  I'm one of those irritating people that has a hard time relaxing.

I found myself getting nervous yesterday as I started thinking through how this whole trip would go.  Worst case scenarios immediately flooded my mind.  Instead of living in worryville I decided to take some action.

I called my mom and just asked for more details.  I told her my concerns and we talked through them.  After the chat I felt much, much better.  There's still much to do to get ready but it's doable.  Worryville is an uncool place to stay.  Good thing I get to choose to leave it.