It's a rainy Friday afternoon. Sassy is napping, and hopefully the dark sky will encourage a longer sleeping time today.
***
I am addicted to Craigslist. I've bought things through them before, but in the last couple weeks have started selling as well. I have a lady scheduled to come today to pick up more of my clutter and hand me cash for it. Yippie!
***
Sassy has been in rare form today. I wanted to pull my hair out by 10:00 a.m. Why, when given 99 choices of activities, will toddlers always choose the 100th thing that is off-limits?
***
We recently turned our dining room into a playroom. Because we play a whole lot more than we dine around here. I love the change, but now I have to find a new spot for unfinished projects to fall.
***
Have you tried the new dark chocolate Reese's cups? Oh... my... word. You MUST! I've eaten four this week, and I wish I had one right now!
***
On Monday, I get to take Sassy to her pediatrician's office for two vaccines she missed. One was not available due to a shortage when we were in last, and the other the nurse mistakenly did not notice she still needed. I really hate the thought of taking her there for the express purpose of getting shots (HATE it!), but I'm also really glad that I keep track of her medical records at home as well, or we might never have caught that.
***
My sister is getting married in a month. The wedding colors are ivory and gold. Beautiful, yes. But please do tell me where on EARTH I can find gold shoes for a one-year-old. In the summer. No white allowed. I can't even find ivory or cream!
***
Lots and lots going on in my head. Some adoption-related. Maybe portions of it will make it to the blog someday. :)
Friday, August 28, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
I need an iced coffee
I don't drink alcohol, but I do drink lots of iced coffees -- for a treat, to relax (ironically), as a dessert, or just because it tastes good.
This crazy year is getting even crazier.
I really need a caramel iced coffee. Like, right now.
This crazy year is getting even crazier.
I really need a caramel iced coffee. Like, right now.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Leaving on a jet plane (or trying to)
Today is the day I've been waiting for. I'm taking my twenty-month-old daughter (whom I've decided to call "Sassy" for the time being... because it fits) on her first airplane ride to go visit my best friend for a week. I look forward to these annual trips, because it's the only time all year we can get together. It's not that we do much of anything big or exciting, but just spending the time together, laughing about things, getting pedicures, going out for coffee, staying up late and then sleeping in the next morning, and now, watching our daughters play together all makes for a wonderful week that always goes way too fast.
Our flight was to leave at 11:14 a.m. It was delayed by about twenty minutes when we arrived at the airport this morning, but that was fine because it gave us time to find something to eat. Then, due to inclement weather, it was delayed again... and again... and again. I kept watching the estimated departure time creep further and further away. Eventually it became late enough that we would miss our connecting flight to our destination, and as we were the only two people transferring to that flight, they would not hold the plane. And the next connecting flight wasn't until 9:30 tonight.
So, our choices then became to either fly out later this evening (and catch that 9:30 flight), or try it all over again tomorrow. We opted to go with an evening flight tonight. Our great plan of arriving at our destination before dinnertime now becomes arriving close to 11:00 p.m. With a tired toddler. And a tired mommy. Oh, and the flights are booked fairly solid, so there's pretty much no chance of being the "lucky" one to have an empty seat next to us for Sassy to roam around a bit.
Fortunately, we do at least live within a reasonable distance of the airport, so my mother-in-law came to pick us up. Again, due to weather and some interstates that were shut down, she had to take the extra, extra long way to come get us. We spent a whole lot of hours waiting at the airport this morning for no good reason. I pulled Sassy away from more than one sleeping traveler, businessman's laptop cords, and random pieces of luggage, fed her snacks, soothed her with pacifiers, and made every attempt to distract her with the sights and sounds of an airport terminal with nothing to show for it.
Finally, when I was beginning to feel like Tom Hanks' character in the movie The Terminal, she arrived to drive us home. We kept Sassy awake during the trip so she would nap well in her own bed, instead of cat-nap in the car and not sleep at all at home.
As an aside, the original flight has only just minutes ago left... nearly four hours late. My connecting flight is long gone and will soon be approaching our destination without us.
There are worse things in the world. Much, much worse. My dad flew across the country yesterday to attend his brother's very unexpected funeral today. My heart is very heavy for many reasons in that situation.
My dad has also had some pretty significant health problems for several months, and there have been some VERY scary potential diagnoses. Doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, test after test, and they still don't know what's wrong with him. It could be a very treatable condition, or it could be... something I'd rather not go into today.
A very sweet friend is watching her uncle as his body starts to shut down. What compares with the pain of losing a loved one?
I just received an email from a dear member of Sassy's biological family. She wants to know if I can talk to her about what it's like to go through infertility, and if I can relate to what she and her husband are starting to experience. It is a completely unique kind of pain, and even this week has crept up in some frustrating and surprising ways for me.
I'm still really frustrated that we are sitting at home now instead of being thirty minutes away from the end of our travels, and I'm really dreading going through the "good-bye" experience with my husband again at the airport in a few hours. I HATE doing that, and I'm not at all excited about crying and sniffling while going through security for the second time today.
But there are much, much worse things. In the grand scheme of life, it's truly no big deal.
Our flight was to leave at 11:14 a.m. It was delayed by about twenty minutes when we arrived at the airport this morning, but that was fine because it gave us time to find something to eat. Then, due to inclement weather, it was delayed again... and again... and again. I kept watching the estimated departure time creep further and further away. Eventually it became late enough that we would miss our connecting flight to our destination, and as we were the only two people transferring to that flight, they would not hold the plane. And the next connecting flight wasn't until 9:30 tonight.
So, our choices then became to either fly out later this evening (and catch that 9:30 flight), or try it all over again tomorrow. We opted to go with an evening flight tonight. Our great plan of arriving at our destination before dinnertime now becomes arriving close to 11:00 p.m. With a tired toddler. And a tired mommy. Oh, and the flights are booked fairly solid, so there's pretty much no chance of being the "lucky" one to have an empty seat next to us for Sassy to roam around a bit.
Fortunately, we do at least live within a reasonable distance of the airport, so my mother-in-law came to pick us up. Again, due to weather and some interstates that were shut down, she had to take the extra, extra long way to come get us. We spent a whole lot of hours waiting at the airport this morning for no good reason. I pulled Sassy away from more than one sleeping traveler, businessman's laptop cords, and random pieces of luggage, fed her snacks, soothed her with pacifiers, and made every attempt to distract her with the sights and sounds of an airport terminal with nothing to show for it.
Finally, when I was beginning to feel like Tom Hanks' character in the movie The Terminal, she arrived to drive us home. We kept Sassy awake during the trip so she would nap well in her own bed, instead of cat-nap in the car and not sleep at all at home.
As an aside, the original flight has only just minutes ago left... nearly four hours late. My connecting flight is long gone and will soon be approaching our destination without us.
There are worse things in the world. Much, much worse. My dad flew across the country yesterday to attend his brother's very unexpected funeral today. My heart is very heavy for many reasons in that situation.
My dad has also had some pretty significant health problems for several months, and there have been some VERY scary potential diagnoses. Doctor after doctor, specialist after specialist, test after test, and they still don't know what's wrong with him. It could be a very treatable condition, or it could be... something I'd rather not go into today.
A very sweet friend is watching her uncle as his body starts to shut down. What compares with the pain of losing a loved one?
I just received an email from a dear member of Sassy's biological family. She wants to know if I can talk to her about what it's like to go through infertility, and if I can relate to what she and her husband are starting to experience. It is a completely unique kind of pain, and even this week has crept up in some frustrating and surprising ways for me.
I'm still really frustrated that we are sitting at home now instead of being thirty minutes away from the end of our travels, and I'm really dreading going through the "good-bye" experience with my husband again at the airport in a few hours. I HATE doing that, and I'm not at all excited about crying and sniffling while going through security for the second time today.
But there are much, much worse things. In the grand scheme of life, it's truly no big deal.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Open Adoption Roundtable: One Small Moment
From the roundtable this time: write about a small moment that open adoption made possible.
When I first read this week's discussion topic, I must not have been paying close enough attention. I thought Heather was asking us to write about a small moment that made open adoption possible. My mistake. :)
But I think I'm on the right page now!
In thinking of our particular situation (and maybe others can relate), the entire relationship has been made up of a lot of small moments. In the past almost twenty months, we've had very few earth-shattering moments where our relationship with "A" is concerned.
And though I would still consider our adoption to be an open one, it is often more "semi-open," or even somewhat "closed" in practice. It's not for lack of trying; but, this is how things have more often than not played out.
So, maybe all the more because of that fact, I greatly treasure the one visit we have had since our sassy little girl was born. She was six months old at the time--the perfect age for still being a cuddly baby, and yet having so much awareness of her surroundings, responding to others, and being fully entertained (and entertaining) with smiles and laughter.
We spent the entire day with A, her family, and friends. We visited with those we had not see in six months, and we met others who had known our precious girl before she was born, not yet having had the opportunity to see her in person. She was passed from person to person, family member to friend, grandparent to grandparent, and mother to mother. She did beautifully the whole time, and on that day more than ever, I was SO grateful for her easy-going nature and flexibility in unfamiliar situations.
She was a baby, though, and naptime did come. I had wondered how we would manage to not push her past her limit, while still allowing A to savor every moment with her. I tried not to worry about it too much beforehand, and just decided we would take the day as it came.
It came time for a bottle, and A gladly did the honors. I loved that she got to snuggle her sweet baby as she ate. There's something so precious about feeding a baby--your baby. After mealtime was over, the room started to quiet down as others went into the kitchen to eat or went outside to chat and play games. People stopped coming and going as much, and the room became still for the first time all day. Maybe others sensed the need for a few quiet moments between A and the daughter she'd missed all these months, or maybe everything just fell into place.
She began to rock our sweet baby. She relaxed her arms so she would lay back in them. She cuddled her and stroked her face. She quietly "shhh'ed" her, just like all mothers do with their tired babies. It was the most natural thing in all the world, and in a way, I felt like I was intruding a bit by being present in the room. I quickly took a few pictures of the two, and then left to sit outside with my husband and enjoy the cookout. I told him what a precious thing was going on at that moment, and how I only wished our little girl would stop her attentive nature for just a few moments, so that she wouldn't be raising her head to look at me. We smiled at what a lovely day it really had been.
Days later, as A and I were corresponding via email about the visit we'd had, she noted that, among other things, she loved being able to rock our daughter in her sleepy state, and how it brought her such relief to see her craning her neck to watch Mommy. She commented that, as a "birth mom," she was so happy to see our girl safe and secure. She had been worried that their strong connection as a family, similar physical attributes, and other characteristics would make us feel sad or upset on that day, and how she hoped we understood that our parenthood wasn't being threatened.
I wrote back immediately and told her that, first of all, I had been worried that she had been upset by the neck-craning, and second, having a sense of acceptance and biological heritage for our daughter on that day was the thing I had most been hoping for on our visit. How funny that the things we were each fearing for the other were the very things that meant so much to us.
I will never forget the image of A rocking our baby girl. It was as if they'd never been separated. I'm so thankful to have the pictures from that day, but I'm also so thankful for the quiet moments between a mother and her child.
When I first read this week's discussion topic, I must not have been paying close enough attention. I thought Heather was asking us to write about a small moment that made open adoption possible. My mistake. :)
But I think I'm on the right page now!
In thinking of our particular situation (and maybe others can relate), the entire relationship has been made up of a lot of small moments. In the past almost twenty months, we've had very few earth-shattering moments where our relationship with "A" is concerned.
And though I would still consider our adoption to be an open one, it is often more "semi-open," or even somewhat "closed" in practice. It's not for lack of trying; but, this is how things have more often than not played out.
So, maybe all the more because of that fact, I greatly treasure the one visit we have had since our sassy little girl was born. She was six months old at the time--the perfect age for still being a cuddly baby, and yet having so much awareness of her surroundings, responding to others, and being fully entertained (and entertaining) with smiles and laughter.
We spent the entire day with A, her family, and friends. We visited with those we had not see in six months, and we met others who had known our precious girl before she was born, not yet having had the opportunity to see her in person. She was passed from person to person, family member to friend, grandparent to grandparent, and mother to mother. She did beautifully the whole time, and on that day more than ever, I was SO grateful for her easy-going nature and flexibility in unfamiliar situations.
She was a baby, though, and naptime did come. I had wondered how we would manage to not push her past her limit, while still allowing A to savor every moment with her. I tried not to worry about it too much beforehand, and just decided we would take the day as it came.
It came time for a bottle, and A gladly did the honors. I loved that she got to snuggle her sweet baby as she ate. There's something so precious about feeding a baby--your baby. After mealtime was over, the room started to quiet down as others went into the kitchen to eat or went outside to chat and play games. People stopped coming and going as much, and the room became still for the first time all day. Maybe others sensed the need for a few quiet moments between A and the daughter she'd missed all these months, or maybe everything just fell into place.
She began to rock our sweet baby. She relaxed her arms so she would lay back in them. She cuddled her and stroked her face. She quietly "shhh'ed" her, just like all mothers do with their tired babies. It was the most natural thing in all the world, and in a way, I felt like I was intruding a bit by being present in the room. I quickly took a few pictures of the two, and then left to sit outside with my husband and enjoy the cookout. I told him what a precious thing was going on at that moment, and how I only wished our little girl would stop her attentive nature for just a few moments, so that she wouldn't be raising her head to look at me. We smiled at what a lovely day it really had been.
Days later, as A and I were corresponding via email about the visit we'd had, she noted that, among other things, she loved being able to rock our daughter in her sleepy state, and how it brought her such relief to see her craning her neck to watch Mommy. She commented that, as a "birth mom," she was so happy to see our girl safe and secure. She had been worried that their strong connection as a family, similar physical attributes, and other characteristics would make us feel sad or upset on that day, and how she hoped we understood that our parenthood wasn't being threatened.
I wrote back immediately and told her that, first of all, I had been worried that she had been upset by the neck-craning, and second, having a sense of acceptance and biological heritage for our daughter on that day was the thing I had most been hoping for on our visit. How funny that the things we were each fearing for the other were the very things that meant so much to us.
I will never forget the image of A rocking our baby girl. It was as if they'd never been separated. I'm so thankful to have the pictures from that day, but I'm also so thankful for the quiet moments between a mother and her child.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Warning
Today I decided to clean the top of the fridge. Why? I'm not really sure. No one sees it ever. It's not like someone is going to walk into my house and say "My, what a clean refrigerator top you have there." But it's one of those things that, when the mood strikes you, why not?
I've been trying to use less chemically-based cleaners and more natural, everyday ingredients for household cleaning. But my vinegar and water (the "all purpose" cleaner) wasn't cutting through the grime that somehow lands on refrigerator tops.
I remembered I had bought these some time ago:
I had never tried them on anything, but figured this was the perfect opportunity. And it really turned out to be. Just dampen the scrubby pad, work it around a bit in your hand, and it starts to foam. One side is like a scouring pad and the other is like a cloth. Works great, especially for removing sticky kitchen grime.
But, I noticed this warning on the side, listed after all the usual warnings of not using it on marble or aluminum, and testing it first in a small area:
NOT FOR CLEANING SKIN. DO NOT USE AS A BABY WIPE OR FOR PERSONAL CLEANING.
Was this really a concern? Was there really some person out there who ran out of shower gel and thought this was a good replacement? Are there really parents out there who think "You know what would get this poop of my child's legs (and crib, and bedding, and pajamas...) in the quickest and least painful way? A Soft Scrub Scrubby Pad, of course!"
So... using Scrubby Pads for splattered kitchen grease? Good idea. But, ladies, the next time your special time of the month rolls around, please do refrain from using these to help yourself feel fresh and clean. Just in case the warning was needed.
What other funny warning labels have you seen?
I've been trying to use less chemically-based cleaners and more natural, everyday ingredients for household cleaning. But my vinegar and water (the "all purpose" cleaner) wasn't cutting through the grime that somehow lands on refrigerator tops.
I remembered I had bought these some time ago:
I had never tried them on anything, but figured this was the perfect opportunity. And it really turned out to be. Just dampen the scrubby pad, work it around a bit in your hand, and it starts to foam. One side is like a scouring pad and the other is like a cloth. Works great, especially for removing sticky kitchen grime.But, I noticed this warning on the side, listed after all the usual warnings of not using it on marble or aluminum, and testing it first in a small area:
NOT FOR CLEANING SKIN. DO NOT USE AS A BABY WIPE OR FOR PERSONAL CLEANING.
Was this really a concern? Was there really some person out there who ran out of shower gel and thought this was a good replacement? Are there really parents out there who think "You know what would get this poop of my child's legs (and crib, and bedding, and pajamas...) in the quickest and least painful way? A Soft Scrub Scrubby Pad, of course!"
So... using Scrubby Pads for splattered kitchen grease? Good idea. But, ladies, the next time your special time of the month rolls around, please do refrain from using these to help yourself feel fresh and clean. Just in case the warning was needed.
What other funny warning labels have you seen?
Thursday, July 23, 2009
It was bound to happen
My toddler woke up this morning and, instead of politely requesting "Mommy, please come get me up now," she sat and played. By taking off her diaper. And playing in her poop.
Poop on her pajamas, poop on the crib rails, poop on her bedding, poop on the pacifier... still in her mouth. DISGUSTING!!
It took nearly an hour to bathe her, strip the crib of the bedding (including the bumper), scrub the poop off the crib itself, disinfect everything, wash the bumper, hang it out to dry, and wash the rest of the bedding. Just what I wanted to do this morning.
Now the last load is in the dryer, she is napping in a freshly-cleaned crib, and I just remembered I still need to clean the tub.
I've always heard stories like this and hoped my child would never do that. At least I made it this long!
Poop on her pajamas, poop on the crib rails, poop on her bedding, poop on the pacifier... still in her mouth. DISGUSTING!!
It took nearly an hour to bathe her, strip the crib of the bedding (including the bumper), scrub the poop off the crib itself, disinfect everything, wash the bumper, hang it out to dry, and wash the rest of the bedding. Just what I wanted to do this morning.
Now the last load is in the dryer, she is napping in a freshly-cleaned crib, and I just remembered I still need to clean the tub.
I've always heard stories like this and hoped my child would never do that. At least I made it this long!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Open Adoption Roundtable: Wish List
The theme this time is: share your wish list for your open adoption. See the other responses here!
I feel like someone has just given me the permission to dream of my "ideal" situation, all that I hope for our relationship with our daughter's first family to be, and even some of what I fully expect it will not be. I'm continually learning (and re-learning) that this relationship -- not unlike any other -- is a two-way street. I am only in control of my half of the road, but there is a great responsibility in that.
If I could make a wish list in our situation, it would include things such as:
That my daughter will be completely fulfilled, happy, and at peace with her life and its unique circumstances.
That's really all any parent could ask for, isn't it? We all want our kids to be happy, healthy, well-adjusted. We want them to be kind, respectful, honest, and responsible individuals. We do our best to mold them into the people they were born to be, and to be what God created them to be. We never, ever want to see them hurt from something outside of their (and our) control, and that is often times a real and present fear in the adoptive family.
So, even if our adoption never achieves the new heights of openness that I myself would desire, I wouldn't change it, as long as my sweet girl can understand why she was placed, who she was meant to be in life, and how much she is loved by all who are blessed to call her part of their family.
I feel like someone has just given me the permission to dream of my "ideal" situation, all that I hope for our relationship with our daughter's first family to be, and even some of what I fully expect it will not be. I'm continually learning (and re-learning) that this relationship -- not unlike any other -- is a two-way street. I am only in control of my half of the road, but there is a great responsibility in that.
If I could make a wish list in our situation, it would include things such as:
- More frequent visits
- Consistent and reciprocal communication
- Sharing my daughter's birthdays with her first mom in person rather than via letters, cards, packages sent, and late night emails (but, I feel I should note that I AM thankful for those things as well)
- More honest and open discussion of feelings and emotions -- a throwback to what it once was
- Clear answers for my daughter about some fuzzy areas of her story
- Communication from her biological father that comes with a pure intent
- Medical, social, and family information from the paternal side
- An open relationship with her biological father's side... someday... maybe...
- The ability for my child to pick up a phone, write an email, or send a letter to either of her first parents, and the expectation that her communication will not go unanswered
- A feeling of acceptance and love for her in ANY part of her biological family
That my daughter will be completely fulfilled, happy, and at peace with her life and its unique circumstances.
That's really all any parent could ask for, isn't it? We all want our kids to be happy, healthy, well-adjusted. We want them to be kind, respectful, honest, and responsible individuals. We do our best to mold them into the people they were born to be, and to be what God created them to be. We never, ever want to see them hurt from something outside of their (and our) control, and that is often times a real and present fear in the adoptive family.
So, even if our adoption never achieves the new heights of openness that I myself would desire, I wouldn't change it, as long as my sweet girl can understand why she was placed, who she was meant to be in life, and how much she is loved by all who are blessed to call her part of their family.
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