When I saw these band-aides at work I grabbed a whole box of them because, hey! Brown band-aides!
It never occurred to me that they might be odd or inappropriate. Then I read a post at A Little Pregnant where Julie said she was a bit offended to get a drug company band-aide when she had blood drawn.
So I don't know... Do you think it's okay for my boys to wear band-aides that advertise the HPV vaccine?
Lately I find myself surprised by things that have not happened in my life. It's not a depression, or really true regret. I'm just mildly shocked with myself.
I think it has to do with Sparkle turning five years old in just over a month. Five years is just one year short of 1/3 of the time he will be living in our home. Maybe by the time he's 16 I'll be thinking, "Lordy, how much longer is this crazy person going to be around? Can we move on, here?"
But right now I'm stunned by how freaking grown up he is, and wondering how this possibly could have happened. I'm realizing that we don't have forever to do some of the things I always thought we'd do.
This is kind of a silly example, but I always thought my kids would have pets. I grew up with three or four animals in our home all the time, in some combination of cats and dogs, with occasional fish and hamsters. It never occurred to me that we would be a pet-less household, yet that's what we seem to be. When the boys were babies we didn't have time for an animal, but I thought, "We'll get one when they're a little older." Well, here they are, a little older, but we don't seem to have any more time, and I still haven't given them a pet.
I can't believe they haven't been in more swimming lessons. I can't believe we haven't taken them to Glacier National Park. I can't believe they've both been in daycare at least four days a week since they were babies. I can't believe we don't have a sandbox (Are they past the age for sandboxes? Have we completely missed our sandbox opportunity?). I can't believe they only see their grandparents a few times a year.
Before the boys somehow grew into these crazy preschoolers, I never would have thought all of those things would still be true by time my kids were this age.
You know, having left this post alone for while and come back to it a few times, I think I'm also just a little stunned that possibilities I was holding for myself for "later" are actually passing.
It's silly because (hello?) it's impossible to have it all. Supposedly we can, but really? Not so much. Shouldn't I have truly realized that by now?
And not having it all isn't bad. I can absolutely be completely happy without having all the education, travel, money, career, time, or experiences I could ever want. I'm not even going to talk about the three kids/two kids issue, because even I'm tired of hearing myself rambling on about that. I'm sick of hearing myself think about it in my own crazy brain at this point, frankly.
I love my job, but I can't believe I'm working so much. I always thought I'd eventually back off my schedule to be home more. I can't believe how few books I've read in the last year. I can't believe our family hasn't been on a fun vacation longer than a weekend EVER (other than visits to see family, which kind of count, but not really). I can't believe I haven't taken any classes outside of my field since I finished school. I can't believe I stopped running, after running five days a week for forever.
Again, I'm not too upset, just surprised. Sometimes life just needs to pause briefly while you reassess where you're headed and make some adjustments. It's normal and healthy. You all do this, too, right?
I enjoy my life and my family. I'd like to make a few changes, but I'm not sure how to adjust without some other important things falling apart.
I'll be working on it...
Caucuses? Caucous? Caocus? Pretty sure it's not caulkus. Or cockus.
Whatever.
I have never been involved in a political caucus before, but today I participated in the Washington state caucuses. It was really, really amazing!
Washington state has both a primary and a caucus. Beloved and I got our ballots for the primary by mail, but we both actually threw them away! On purpose. If you want to vote in the Republican primary, you have to sign something that says you are officially a Republican, and we didn't want to do that. (We'd like to think we're independent.) Plus, the Republican party only uses the primary to assign 51% of their delegates. The Democratic party assigns absolutely none of their delegates based on the primary results. I do not understand the reasons for how either party organizes this, but it was apparent that if we wanted to have a voice, it would have to be through the caucus system.
I dutifully found the website that showed me what precinct we're in, and where the caucus would be held. I gave myself plenty of time to get there, because I wasn't sure exactly where it was or exactly what time I had to be signed in.
Well, it was a good thing to be early, because it was packed. Packed! When the official meeting started, the lady with the microphone said they had planned for twice as many people as the previous maximum attendance, but ended up with SIX TIMES as many people!
I teared up during the Pledge of Allegiance. People clapped and cheered.
Having been through it once now, I am much more likely to participate again. I learned a lot. For example, the number of delegates for each candidate ends up being determined by a formula with the ratio of votes per candidate combined with the population of each precinct.
Depending on where you live and how many other people from your area vote, the presence or absence of just a few people... or even one person... can change the number of delegates for each candidate.
So, hello?!?! If you have not yet heard this message loud and clear from any of a thousand different sources, figure out how the process works where ever you live and participate!
It was interesting to see the demographics of everyone there (well, just the visual demographics, I suppose). There were lots of people in their 50s and a surprising number of people in their early 20s. There were definitely not many people with children there. Beloved stayed home with the boys today, because we didn't know what the environment or the process would be like. But next time, we will either find a babysitter or just take the kids with us.
I think it is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful that so many came, but it created some problems. There were SO many people that it was almost standing room only. People had trouble finding the assigned areas for their precincts. There were not enough chairs. It was hard to hear.
One thing that was really sad to me was that some people didn't get to participate because they came too late. The parking lot was completely full and people had to park up to two blocks away. A few people who normally would have been right on time ended up having to park farther away, then had trouble finding their precinct table because of the crowd, and didn't get signed in before the start of the caucus, even though the officials waited until absolutely the last possible minute. I don't know how that could have been prevented. I have not seen any articles this evening about record turn out overwhelming the capacity of the caucus sites around Washington state, so maybe it was just our area.
Are you bored with a whole post about caucuses?
I generally like to follow politics just sort of out of the corner of my eye. If I pay too much attention, it can really frustrate and upset me. Perhaps that's a cop out, but sometimes I feel like I can't emotionally afford to care too much about everything single thing that is important. It can easily overwhelm me. But I am finding myself reading articles about the presidential race and the individual candidates a lot lately. Where do you find objective and relevant information? Right now I tend to just click through AP news articles, but nothing is really too deep.
I'm kind of nervous and kind of excited.
Oh my. I have a few partially written posts saved, but no time to finish them.
1. Beloved has been gone for a week (a week!), and it's a good thing he's on his way home today because I am fried.
I've definitely noticed, though, that this week has not been nearly as difficult as it would have been even one year ago. It's so great to be able to say, "It's time to put on your pajamas and brush your teeth," and then just supervise and encourage rather than actually doing every step myself for both kids. It doesn't sound that hard, but it's so time consuming and frustrating to have to carry/herd two kids up the steps, get out the pajamas from the drawer, undress each child, lotion each child, put pajamas on each child, put away lotion and laundry, set each child on the toilet, wash everyone's hands, put toothpaste on each tooth brush, allow brief "brushing"/chewing on the toothbrush, brush both mouths, and carry/herd both kids to beds, etc, etc. It's still slow, with lots of distractions, but much easier. My boys, they are growing up.
2. Sparkle loves school. This is huge! Remember when he was having so much trouble at school, and begging not to have to go? It was awful and heartbreaking and horrible. Well, now he is eager to get there every morning and does not want to be left out of anything. He'll say, "Mom, how 'bout you don't come and get me until it's dark outside?" I usually keep the boys home with me on Fridays, but lately he's been begging to get to go to school. He'll say, "But, Mom! I have to know the new things my class is learning!" He tells me long stories about the excitement of playing Monster Tag at outside free play time. It's hard to be disappointed that he doesn't want to hang out with me, because it's so wonderful that he's enjoying school.
3. Sparkle looks forward to his Share Day (what we used to call Show and Tell when I was little). Today he is sharing the cardboard coasters he got at Red Lobster (a "grown up restaurant!"). It's always fun for me to hear from his teachers what he said in Share Time. One day he shared his winter boots, showing his classmates the velcro, the fuzzy inside and the rubber toe. At the end of their presentations, the kids get to ask, "Are there any questions?" and then call on classmates who raise their hands to ask things like, "Are they very warm?" and "Do you very like your boots?" That's Sparkle's favorite part.
4. When we made our adoption plans, I didn't think too much about the fact that there are not many families in the US who have adopted from South Africa. I find myself feeling a little jealous of families with a more automatic built in support system, like those who adopted from China, Korea, or more recently, Ethiopia and Haiti. Their kids often know each other, have similar backgrounds, the families are bonded by the shared wait, they celebrate holidays together, etc. There is only one blog I know of written by another family adopting from South Africa, and they live in Sweden. (Hi, Katie! Smooch!) So, whine, whine, whine... It would not have changed our decisions, but I wish I'd been a bit more prepared.
5. So, Mike Hukabee wants to change the Constitution to reflect "God's standards," and by "God's standards" I assume he means basically his own screwed-up standards. Certainly not Jesus' standards, as far I as can tell. Hello?! This is the Worst Idea Ever. (Even worse than gun locks distributed to preschoolers.) I am angry with him for making all Christians look like idiots. Please tell me there is no chance he could actually be elected, because the idea is completely frightening.
Wasn't Christmas nice?
I had plenty of vacation time, though now I'm back to work and things are crazier than ever. In some ways, it's nice that Christmas is over. I love having the house decorated for Christmas, but I also love getting it all put back together. I'm glad that the sweets are mostly out of the house now.
But it's hard to go back to work and back to "normal" life, knowing that the rest of the winter is just... well, cold dark long winter, with no more vacations until spring. Beloved will be traveling a lot, which is always hard for me. I wish we had something to look forward to in the next few months.
We were able to talk to R, Pumpkin's first mom, several times over the holidays. We thought there was a good chance we might actually get to meet her and Baby A a few days before Christmas, but her transportation didn't work out. We sent her and Baby A a box of Christmas gifts. She was really pleased with the gifts, which makes me happy. After Christmas, she told me that our gifts were the only ones she got this year! It's not that she doesn't have people who care about her, but I think they were expecting to see her, and so didn't send any gifts.
When Beloved saw me wrapping up all of the gifts to send to R and Baby A, he kind of thought that I/we were a little excessive in our giving to them. (Really, it was maybe a lot of individual gifts (like, about 8-10 things total), but nothing that was very expensive by itself, except for a $75 gift card to Wal-Mart.) When I told him that ours were the only gifts they had on Christmas day, he got kind of a shocked, sad look. Hmm, those gifts don't seem to so excessive now!
Sometimes it's not an easy thing to blog about our relationship with R, because so much of it feels private. But here's something I can share!
Beloved and I have somewhat different feelings about how best to support R and Baby A. He likes her well enough and feels somewhat connected to her through Pumpkin, but he prefers a less personal approach. He is happy to let me do most of the chatting and photo sending, for example. He would like to set up a fund to help her pay for school. I think that's a great idea, but I think that it might tell her that we only love and support her if she makes what we think are the best choices. Anyway, we're still looking into the option of helping her pay for school, but we do not have anything definite in the works.
For me, I struggle just a little bit with feeling personally responsible for R, and especially for Baby A. This first parent/adoptive parent relationship is a unique thing, and I'm not sure I've got a great handle on it. We are not just her friends. We are family, but not in the same way as siblings or cousins. And we are definitely not her parents. I am interested in her and in her life, I'd love to be the best possible support person for her, but I'm not sure exactly what that should look like. So far, I think I know what would be inappropriate. Inappropriate would be asking her how her grades are, how she's managing her finances, or if she's taken the baby for her well child visits, for example. Sometimes it seems like a bit of a tricky thing to let her know that I am genuinely interested in knowing her, without making it seem like I can't mind my own business. (Wow, I'm not explaining this very well. I hope I'm making some sense.)
Another thing that makes the relationship different is that we are maintaining it for Pumpkin, and not just for ourselves. I hope that we would still care about R. if she just any other single mom we knew. But I'm always aware that Pumpkin will be in charge of this relationship someday, and we are keeping things as open and positive as possible until he's ready to take over (with some help, of course, for a while). I don't know how much affect this has on our interaction, but to me it feels unique compared to any other relationship.
So far, we tend to just try to write or call on a regular basis, keep her updated on Pumpkin, and occasionally send her small gifts, like a little toy or outfit or book for Baby A. So far, I think she knows we care about her.
So far, I think we're doing okay.
My sons were my grandmother's only great grandchildren, and she loved them so much, it actually surprised me a little.
I thought, maybe, that with four children and bunches of grandkids and their partners... I don't know, that maybe once the family got that big, two more little people who lived far away wouldn't mean that much to her.
Before she even met Sparkle, I realized that I had underestimated her. She and my Grandpa were some of the first to send Sparkle a gift. They sent him a sweatsuit, size 18 months, with various tools embroidered on it. At the time I thought it was funny that she had sent my brand-new five-month-old son a toddler sized outfit. Obviously, as a long-time mother and grandmother, she knew better than I how quickly he would grow into it. Both Sparkle and Pumpkin wore the outfit, and it is one of the twenty or so "little boy" outfits that I saved once both boys had outgrown it.
In the same package with the clothes was a casette tape. On it was a recording of the radio broadcast of their church service from the Sunday after we had called them about Sparkle's referral. They had sponsored the broadcast in his honor.
My grandma used to make this absolutely yummy Chocolate Ice Box Cake. I only remember having it for birthday celebrations. The recipe is kind of a secret. Like, my aunts and uncles joked about it being a secret family recipe as if (ha, ha!) our family would be so smug as to have a secret recipe. But yet... no one else did have the recipe... I think she gave it to her kids, though, a few years ago.
It takes forever to make and is kind of complicated, however, and as she got older other people took over the making of family birthday cakes. No Chocolate Ice Box Cakes, though; that was still her thing.
I had not had Chocolate Ice Box Cake for years and years. Then when we visited family for my sister's wedding last April, my grandparents came over one day to celebrate Sparkle's birthday. (He had already had two mini-birthday parties, but he was still really excited.) And my grandma brought Sparkle a Chocolate Ice Box Cake!
My mom made the whipped topping in the kitchen, and Grandma sat in the dining room. When the cake was ready we all sang Happy Birthday to a self-concious Sparkle.
That evening was the last time we saw her. All of my grandparents are getting quite old, and we live far away. So for years, I've felt like every time we see them I needed to make the most of it. Sort of morbid, but I didn't want their deaths to "sneak up on me" I suppose.
I remember that evening trying to make sure to take a few snapshots of the boys with their great grandparents, and getting a little frustrated because they weren't really turning out. But what was I going to say? "Boys! Sit still! Grandma, hold my crazy wiggling two-year-old! I want to get a good picture in case we never get another chance!"
It seems a little silly of me, but I'm surprised by how important it's been to me that my Grandma made my son a Chocolate Ice Box Cake. I suppose after a person dies, you realize then what memories were really meaningful to you.
Anyway, I've been thinking about her and my grandpa a lot lately. Hoping Grandpa is okay. Hoping my boys will remember their great grandparents. Just remembering random things. And then I feel weird for getting all nostalgic and stuff.
So here's a picture of Sparkle, blowing out the four candles on his Chocolate Ice Box Cake. And that's my amazing Grandma behind him, smiling a little and loving her great grandson very much!
You know which book the boys love? It's this one: Luke Goes to Bat by Rachel Isadora. (Here's a summary: Luke's hero is Jackie Robinson. Luke wants to play baseball, but he isn't great at it, though he tries really hard. Jackie Robinson tells him never to give up, and Luke gets better at baseball.)
We have hundreds of children's books. We definitely buy more books than toys for the boys. It's not because we're snobby "we're-such-great-parents-we-only-buy-books" type of people, but mostly because books are entertaining and they don't take up too much space and they don't make noise.
Of course we have been deliberate about reading books with characters of many races, ages, genders, and family types. Most of them are actually good books. We don't buy a book that's not good just to add "diversity" to our collection.
Even though we have lots and lots of books, we specifically don't have any books (until now) where the focus of the book is on the athletic ability of a Black male character. I guess I just figured the boys would get enough of that "Black men as hero athletes" stuff.
Luke Goes to Bat is not a book we bought. It came in the mail as a part of a kindergarten readiness program in our school district. And the boys both love it!
Their response to the book surprised me. It isn't really a great book, I don't think. In fact, it's kind of confusing because Jackie Robinson shows up as a ghost-type-guy, tells Luke to never give up, and then disappears. Not something I would expect a toddler to get.
But they both want to read "Jackie Robinson!" and we've looked for pictures online, and they know that he was the first Black American to play major league baseball.
Neither of the boys could tell you who Martin Luther King, Jr. or Nelson Mandela are. If you're at my house, and you'd like to gauge our success as parents of Black boys by quietly taking them aside and checking their knowledge of Black male world leaders... Please don't judge us based on the blank looks my boys will give you if you ask them anything about MLK. Because blank looks there will be. Hey, we're working on it.
I'm not sure what to make of it. Do they just like the book because they're toddlers/preschoolers, and they have strange and changing tastes in literature? Have they already been exposed to the Black male as hero athlete stuff more than I realized, and are somehow identifying with that idea (oh, crap...)?
Should I encourage their interest, or should we work on developing an engaging puppet show about the life of Harriet Tubman?
Beloved and I are still in discussion on whether or not to have a third child. I hope we can just make a decision soon, because I'm emotionally tired from going over and over it.
(For background, you can read older posts one, two, three, four, and five.)
Neither of us is sure that we should have another kid, so the default decision is that we shouldn't. Yet I'm not sure of that as a decision either.
Yesterday I was quite confident that we don't need another child in our family.
My work schedule would have to change, daycare costs would go up, and the house would definitely feel cramped. We've been buying diapers continuously for over four years now, but Pumpkin is almost ready to be done. It's amazing how much freedom there is to do things when you don't have to carry twelve hundred million things with you every time you leave the house. The boys can both buckle their own car seats. They both do OK if their nap or meal schedule is a little off. They are amazing, engaging, perfectly wonderful kids. Another baby would really set us back!
Then tonight, I was sitting in a meeting where a new mom had brought her sleeping baby. The baby was on the floor in an infant seat across the room. I couldn't even see her. I wasn't thinking about babies or parenting. (Focusing dutifully on the meeting, of course!)
The baby gave a little fussing sound, and instantly my heart was in my throat.
"A baby! I want a baby!"
I'm frustrated with myself, actually. I am not a very sentimental person. I don't make emotional or impulsive decisions. I don't (usually) believe that one thing or another is "meant to be."
So WHY can I not just make a decision and choose to be at peace and happy about it, either way?
(Beloved is also not sure what we should do, but he is ridiculously easy-going, and would be fine either way.) (His personality is a weird combination of being easy-going in some situations and totally focused and driven in others.) (In a good way! It seems to work well for our marriage and for his career, in particular.)
And then I rediscover pictures like this:
Check out those knees! (The knees! Oh, my gosh, the adorable knees!) How could I turn away from the chance to kiss knees like those again!
So, yeah, I guess I'm officially undecided. Mostly.
A while ago our family went to a party where each family had adopted at least one of their children. It wasn't a huge group, but there were families with quite a variety of adoption experiences (international, domestic, foster to adopt, older child, special needs, transracial, open, closed, semi-open...).
Someone had made a huge pot of doro wat (like 10 gallons, I think) and tons of injera. After everyone ate, things quieted down. Some of the older Ethiopian girls were braiding the hair of some younger girls. The toddlers were outside running around the yard with some of the dads.
Four other moms and I were talking inside. And you know, there is nothing like a real conversation with other adoptive moms. It was amazing. I am used to feeling a little on the outside among groups of moms. Part of that is probably because I'm socially cautious (shy-ish), but it's also partly because I'm not a bio mom.
There is an intimacy about talking in person to other adoptive parents that isn't there among other groups of moms or even kindred blogging spirits.
One mom spoke about her son, who was adopted as a toddler. Shortly after he came home, she noticed some odd behavior. He was only three (I think) but he made some suggestive sexual gestures that kind of freaked her out at first. She talked about how she and her husband discussed it, realized that the behavior was partly an attachment-related thing, decided to deal with it (basically by refusing to be weirded out or emotionally push him away when he did these things), and how the behavior resolved after a while.
You know what would happen if she talked about this experience in a group of bio-only parents? Or even some adoptive parents? Many people would be horrified. They would suggest that he had been abused, that he was dangerous. They would quietly conclude that his parents were crazy, and maybe look at them funny when their son arrived on the playground.
As it was, the other moms listened. A few nodded and affirmed her experience and how she had handled it. A few shared their perspective on some attachment-related issues.
And then the conversation moved on.
There was no shock. There was no silent judgement (of the parents, the child, of toddler adoption or adoption in general).
I wanted to hug them all.
Sometimes I hesitate to talk about certain aspects of parenting my boys. Sparkle in particular tends to have more anxiety with changes and needs a lot of reassurance to feel secure. Both Beloved and I know that it's partly just his personality, but we also believe that it's partly because of adoption-related loss.
But I don't talk about it. I'm afraid people will think that all adopted kids are damaged goods with problems hiding around every corner. I'm afraid that people will think I'm blaming adoption for what really comes down to poor parenting, and if we were better at this parenting thing our kid wouldn't have to ask twelve hundred million times who is picking him up on Thursday. I'm afraid that just by talking about it, I might confirm the prejudices people have about adoption, Africans, or Black boys. (Because, after all, he was destined to have issues anyway, being African and Black and male and all, you know).
And then, after all that... I feel guilty for not letting him just be who he is, adoption-related control issues and all... Why should he have to represent all South Africans, all Black boys, all adopted kids? Why should he have to prove to the world that adoptive families are all fine, darn it, just fine!
So anyway, my point is... It was just unbelievably refreshing to be part of a group of real live people whom I knew would understand. I actually didn't talk a whole lot during that conversation, or bare my adoptive-mommy soul.
But I could have.
(And... time for disclaimers! (You knew they were coming, right?) I know that potential problems with sexual acting out should not be ignored. In this case, it was very clear that the child had no history of abuse. The gestures were benign. The behavior resolved quickly and did not recur. I am 100% confident that his parents handled it appropriately and did not fail to address any important issues with their child.)
What follows here is very super ultra personal. I'm afraid it might be painful (or at least annoying) for a few people to read, so I'm nervous about posting these thoughts. But I want to talk about it, so I'll try do so sensitively.
Here's an summary of the topics, so be warned: Fertility and Family Planning and Body Image/Confidence.
Are you all okay so far? You are? Good.
I'm still thinking about Possible Third Child. If there really will be a third, I don't know how he/she will arrive in our family.
I would love to adopt again, but it doesn't seem like a great time to adopt, does it? Domestic adoption, I have learned, is a minefield of ethical issues that we're not eager to walk through again. International adoption doesn't seem like a great option for our family right now either.
So that leaves... (gulp...) ...pregnancy?
We have never tried to create a child ourselves. We have no reason to think that we couldn't, but no one thinks they will have to deal with infertility, do they? At this point I don't believe I would be crushed and devastated if we tried to get pregnant and couldn't. But that's easy to say now. Perhaps I would feel differently if we lost a baby or couldn't become pregnant.
I've never had a strong desire to be pregnant or birth a child. The idea is intriguing, but not imperative. My sister-in-law says, "Oh, but there's nothing like it! A life moving and growing inside you, the rush of delivery and a messy baby on your belly!" And I think, "...eh?"
Pregnancy seems like a silly (and risky) thing to try just for the heck of it. Should we do it even if I don't really, really, REALLY want to?
Okay, and here's the next thing... Pregnancy and delivery don't scare me. But what my body might be like after pregnancy scares me a little.
Women who have given birth seem to go on and on about how different their bodies are after pregnancy. (The stretch marks! The floppy belly! The deflated boobs! The baby weight that never goes away!) Of course post-pregnancy women are beautiful and their bodies are beautiful and it's all worth it, etc, etc. But it kind of freaks me out how extra-hard it seems to be for women to be happy with their bodies after pregnancy.
Like so many women, I feel like I'm fighting with my body all the time. It doesn't matter that I'm healthy, at a normal weight, and that my husband adores me. I'm still constantly catching myself being critical of my body. I do positive, healthy stuff for my body-- skin care and good food and exercise-- and yet I am still constantly needing to remind myself, "I have a wonderful body-vessel here! Look! It can run several miles every day! It has a working brain and cardiovascular system!"
This sounds familiar, right? And I'm totally not looking for compliments or reassurance from anyone, so you don't need to bother. (And I bet, if we're anything alike, reassurance doesn't really help anyway, does it?)
With all the crazy changes that happen so fast with pregnancy and childbirth, I'm afraid I wouldn't even recognize myself afterward, and that would be hard. I'd prefer my hips to stay as they are, thank you. And my breasts. And my pelvic floor, oh my gosh, what would I do without my lovely pelvic floor?!
Okay, so I'm being a little dramatic.
There are many factors that will go into the decision about maybe having another kid, and the whole crazy-body thing is only one, but the truth is that it's a significant factor for me.
As always, I'd love to hear your stories. How did you know when you were done adding kids to your family? If you're adopting, how did you chose a domestic or international program? Am I over thinking this, or what?
