Saying of the Day: I have my roses on!

H is thoroughly enthralled with my mom "Grandma." Not Grandmaw, not Grandmother, more like "Gramma." I think it's because she was with me when we got custody of H. The whole waiting for your kid thing was a bit wierd. We had opted to fly a few days early to Kaz so my mom could experience Almaty for herself and see where H came from. It also saved us hundreds on the airfare (later spent on the hotel room but that's a different story). So, we were there ahead of the other families that were there to pick up their kids. All our families opted to meet in Almaty instead of Karaganda. Since we were ahead of everyone, we were left to our own devices (happily) for those few days. However, it meant not getting the same information all as a group. The morning of arrival, I didn't have any idea how the day would play out. We hadn't received any communication from our contact there as to arrival time. There were no messages waiting at the desk (not that the hotel staff was particularly gracious about our presence to begin with). We woke up, got dressed and leisurely went down to eat breakfast. While eating, I noticed the other families waiting in the lobby (breakfast was in a loft overlooking lobbyy). You know the telltale signs of something is going to happen, waiting expectantly, with cameras, and kind of nervously pacing....hmmmmm. Then, someone said "They're here!" So we quickly went downstairs. I didn't have time to go get my camera or anything else. We reached the first floor and everyone else just seemed to stand there as if waiting for some kind of ceremony. I looked around, couldn't figure out what the correct protocal was supposed to be (having never done that kind of thing - you know meeting someone else to take custody of your own child) and said "Well, I'm going to go get my son." With that, I walked out the door with my mom right behind me. The driver got out of the car and walked around to the passenger rear door and a young woman got out holding H. Now, at this time I noticed it wasn't one of the doctors or one even one of the staff that I knew as was supposed to travel. However, I really didn't care. I took him and all was well. You know there aren't any pictures of me being handed my son but at the time all I wanted was to just to get him and keep him. I checked him over. Thanked the young lady who obviously thought he was the cutest thing ...then...well, I handed him off to my mom so I could run up and get my camera!! I have the best picture of the the two of them smiling/laughing at each other.

So, ever since that time (and the 36 hour flight back) H has been very attached to my mom. My parents joined us celebrating H's birthday a few weeks ago. It's gotten a little colder here. It's no longer 98 degrees at night so Grandma woke up one morning and had a robe on.

"Grandma, what's that?" Grandma has a blank look since she is simply standing in the hallway dressed without anything seemingly new.
"Grandma, what you wearing?"
Grandma's response "A robe."

Fast forward to this morning while we are playing "truck" on mommy and daddy's bed.
"Mommy, look I have my roses on! Just like Grandma!"

It Is Well....

With my soul.

I had never heard that song until I played it one Sunday morning just before we got to travel to Kaz. I like it. It is soothing. This morning, while engaging in the activity that makes all things clear again (aka a shower without someone hogging the tub which is getting more common as H takes up more room and doesn't want to share), my soul became well again. I realized I can weather the tumult that is H's complex life story because he trusts me and loves me. Sometimes I just need a while to process these things.

Saturday was a fun filled wonderful day. We did our errands (two trips to Sam's and yes, H knows "Mommy, that says Sam's!) had a decent nap and played outside little kid style - with water, in the dirt, filling the kiddie pool, hauling trucks, buck nekked - as they say around here. H has been wandering around outside more and more without shoes (and frequently without clothes - for some unexplained reason he has to take all his clothes off when we get home from school.) Well, Sunday morning it seems he had a sliver in his foot. Not much to be done about it other than try to remove it.

Now here I get to interject: do you know what happens when your best pair of tweezers are put into a light socket? They trip the breaker, the plugs, and melt the tweezer tips. Bummer. I think they were about twenty years old and had just the right amount of grasp. I digress.

So, we sit in the kitchen. Mommy on the floor, H in Daddy's lap wrapped tightly in his arms to reduce squirming. Even before I can begin the procedure H begins crying and squirming. Crying and squirming, crying and squirming. Crying harder - tears begin streaming down his face. Mommy trying to determine if it is indeed a sliver or just a cut - dang this needing bifocals thing as it becomes impossible to really be accurate. I'm sure it hurt a bit but H was more plain frightened than anything. This came right on the heels of getting TWO shots Thursday at the doctor's office. He cried with tears streaming down his face then, too. Then he wouldn't walk and said his boo boo's hurt. By the time we got home, they felt well enough to take off the bandaids but he still walked stiff legged. It was quite a show.

Anyhow, after determining that I did all that I was going to be able to do, you would think H would want to stay wrapped up safe in Daddy's arms away from Mommy who's been probing his foot with s sharp pointy object. But nope, the nanosecond I stopped, H leaned down with tears streaming out of his eyes reaching his arms out for me to take him and just hold him. We sat there for a long time on the floor together. I just held him quietly in my lap. H knew he was safe and protected and loved.

I have cultivated this from day one. He is safe. He is protected. He is loved. He can come to me when he's hurt, angry, happy, sad, wild, scared, and everything in between. It just took one long morning shower after feeling disconcerted to realize that we will get through this together. If he will reach for me at such terrifying moments now, hopefully he will reach for me later when things get more complicated in his world.

I am his mommy.

Looking Toward the Future

We are officially into the preschool years. After three days celebration, a box of way too many neon icing covered cupcakes half of which we pawned off at his school, and more Hello Kitty rings than I know what to do with, H is now three.

Mommy! Mommy! I want to show you! Look! (as he holds up three fingers)

H is the apple of his teacher's eye wherever he goes. His new school is terrific. His teacher loves him, the gym teacher loves him, the after school teacher loves him, even the teacher we met before school started that isn't his teacher loves him.

"He is so sweet!"

Maybe that's partly because he doesn't have the influence of older siblings which we are now being subjected to via exposure at school with not so nice phrases, tones, attitudes, and flicking. Yes, my three year old had to demonstrate on me that he can "flick!" Only this is a flick free zone....he doesn't quite get that but once he's been subjected to some serious flicking maybe he will appreciate the oasis that we have set up here.

So, as he grows and becomes more cognizant, I have a difficult internal struggle which is really starting to surface. My son is HAPPY!

He wakes up in the morning: "Mommy, I'm happy!"

In the afternoon: "Mommy, I'm happy!"

In the evening: "Mommy, I'm happy! I'm happy Mommy!"

All of this said with the cutest dimpled grin you can imagine and bright twinkling eyes just wanting to show me the world is his oyster.

So, why the dilemma? H is blissfully unaware of the complex world in which he has been placed.

Digression for cuteness:
H: Mommy, what is S's Mommy's name?
Me: I don't know, H. Maybe it's Mommy?
H: No, that's your name!

His class already had an "All About Me" unit the first week of school and it included the makeup of his family. His was just two parents which isn't quite accurate but we didn't feel the need to correct it at this point. He has step-siblings one of which he knows, one of which he's seen pictures and we talk about, and one of which he will only likely meet once in his lifetime....

I was a little disturbed in my being but not really sure how to describe it when I read a line from this blog that really hits home for me:

“It is because I have been involuntarily been put into a world of complex issues at a very young age.”

http://www.creatingafamily.org/blog/adoption-domestic-adoption-international-adoption-embryo-adoption-foster-care-adoption/hating-adoption-loving-life-familyies/

Adoption is a messy and complex process no matter how you view itor how it was accomplished . In my family alone we have private domestic open adoption, foster adoption from not good circumstances, and international adoption circumstances unknown. There's the (regardless of right or wrong viewpoints) Primal Wound view, the "saved and lucky" view, the "head in the sand view, and the "just trying to muddle through" view.

The problem is, we, his family whom he loves dearly and knows he is loved, will have to introduce him to the world that is his. There's no way to know in looking to the future exactly how he will feel about adoption no matter how successfully we approach it. We will do our best to muddle through. However, it truly breaks my heart to know that we, his loved Mommy and Daddy, will have to introduce this happy wonderful person to a very complex world at a very very young age.

I can help with boo boos, scratches, disappointments, mean kids, tough assignments, sports losses, even the losing of friends and pets. I cannot ever fix the fact that his lifestory will be complex.

It makes me want to cry.