Mommy Musings

Found Book Tour: Exploring the Adoptee Perspective

2012-01-15T01:00:00.004-05:00

There was a time I thought navigating our adoption path would be easy.

After all, my children were placed with us days after their birth. They came to us directly from the hospital. There was no abuse, no institutional care, no multiple shifts in caregivers.

Sure they would have questions, they might be sad -- but we'd handle it. We're loving parents. I'm a child and family therapist, so I know how to manage sad.

This adoption stuff would be easy.

But then my daughter turned 5. And she began to have a deeper understanding of what her "adoption story" really meant.

And then one night we watched one of the "Free Willy"* movies, and at the end, when the young girl must let the whale go back to the ocean, my daughter began to sob. And then she began to talk about her birth family.

That's when I knew she really understood adoption -- that it means losing some people who are really important to you.

That's when I really understood -- this adoption stuff is hard.

That lesson continues to be brought home to me by several adult adoptee blogs I read and, most recently, by Found: A Memoir* by Jennifer Lauck. Lauck was adopted at birth -- back in the days when open adoptions were not the vogue. In fact, she didn't know she was adopted until her adoptive brother, in a typical sibling exchange, informed her in a less than kind way.

Lauck's adoption experience was less than ideal. Her adoptive mother died when she was still quite young. Her father remarried a woman who would make some fairy tale stepmothers seem not so bad before he also died. She was shuffled around to various relatives, none of whom seemed to want her. She was homeless at one point. She was abused. And she struggled to find herself.

Found is the story of her search for identity and her ultimate reunification with her birth family. I read Found as part of The Open Adoption Examiner Book Tour -- a sort of on-line book group with a set of questions and opportunities for online discussion.

Question 1 from the book tour is: Lauck shares a lot of fallout from having been adopted. Issues with identity, control, loss, rejection, intimacy, etc. What do you think of Lauck's drive to prove herself unlovable and of no value to so many in her life? How does this directly tie into having been adopted?

It's easy as an adoptive parent to minimize the impact of biology and biological connections -- after all when you adopt you're placing an awful lot of faith in the belief that nurture matters as much as nature. Clearly in Lauck's case, she was not only separated from her biological family, but she didn't get much nurturing either.

It can be easy for those of us who do provide a nurturing environment to our adopted children to think we can make up for the separation from their biological family -- especially when we adopted at birth, especially if there is no history of abuse, especially if we have some level of openness with their birth family. But one thing I've learned with my children is that nature matters too -- a lot. And so does separation from those whose "nature" you share.

We know that at an almost instinctive level -- even when we don't really acknowledge it. My children have the same birth mother. Shortly after my daughter's second birthday, her birth mother contacted us to say she was pregnant again and still not feeling able to parent. She asked if we would adopt this baby also because she wanted her children to be together, to have one another even if they didn't have her.

Almost everyone who knows this story remarks about how special/lucky/wonderful it is that the two of them are together. (These are often the same people who also say how "lucky" they are to be raised by us.)

People may discount the impact of biology when it comes to birth parents, but the response people have to knowing that my children are not only adopted siblings, but biological half siblings as well, proves how instinctively we know that biology matters. Separation from your birth family matters -- a lot.

In her book, Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew,* author and adoptee Sherrie Eldridge begins her list with "I suffered a terrible loss before I even knew you."

I don't necessarily believe adopted children are doomed because of that loss. But part of the nurturing we owe our adopted kids is a willingness to acknowledge and help them begin to understand those feelings of loss, rejection, and confused identities.

Question 2 from the book tour is: Shame figures prominently in Lauck's experience. She traces it to her mother's experience: "was I actually reliving the shame absorbed by my mother in 1963 and thus absorbed by me as the baby she carried? Was I trying to heal the both of us through my reenactment of her past?" (p.94). Later, she writes that "No one spoke of adoptees and their silent sorrows. We were acquired, assimilated, and adapted." (p. 116). Is adoption inherently shameful, or is it only shameful because of when the process and the people involved are treated as unworthy or undeserving? Lauck's language, especially the term "acquired," suggests that adoptees have been treated as commodities rather than people. Does this resonate with you?

I still vividly remember the marketing packet we got from one adoption agency. In big letters on the front it proclaimed "We guarantee you a baby." The brochure then went on to give statistics on how many of their adoptive families brought home babies within a given number of months.

We didn't go with that agency. But it pointed out that bizarre, otherworldly place in which prospective adoptive parents find themselves -- because (at least in our case) the usual route to parenthood (have sex, get pregnant) didn't work, we're turning to what is in essence an "industry" to help us build our family. It bothered me then. It bothers me now.

The question I dread most from my children is not about their birth parents or why they were placed for adoption or why they can't live with their birth parents. The question I dread most is "how much did it cost?" (or even worse, "how much did I cost?").

At one point in the book. Lauck remarks "my father and I were simply two souls thrown together by circumstance. His wife wanted another child (specifically a daughter) and he pulled some strings to fulfill her desire. I was like a handbag or a scarf. Any baby would have done. It wasn't personal." (p.52)

That passage was difficult for me. I adore my children and there are so many things that I love about the people that they are. No one could replace my daughter's vivacious, have-no-fear approach to life or my son's wacky sense of humor. They are not handbags or scarves or commodities.
But the fact that we're together is circumstance. And, if I'm honest, I probably would have grown to love any baby that circumstance brought into my life.

And while it is incredibly personal now, it didn't start out that way. We chose to make it personal.

The third question in the book tour is: On pp. 17-18, Jennifer talks about a baby searching for her mother after being born. How did this sensory-rich passage strike you? What thoughts did it trigger about the role you play in adoption?

As an adoptive parent, it's hard to think about how a baby might be terrorized by separation from the mother who gave birth to him or her. The easy response is to say my children weren't like that.

They certainly weren't babies who pushed away; in fact, both cuddled into me from the very beginning (and still do). They were calm, easy, generally happy babies.

As I read this passage, I couldn't help but remember when we took our daughter from the hospital. She was asleep as we got her dressed and put her in the car seat. But then in the elevator, she woke up. She stayed awake for the 15 or so minutes it took to return to the hotel, and then for another half hour or so afterwards, alert and (at least it felt to me then) engaged with us.

And yet, I'm sure that somewhere in my children's psyche, they must have wondered what happened to the mom they were so intimately connected to for nine months. Is their cuddliness now a way of making sure they don't get "left" again? Was my daughter's alert connection with me a way of trying to figure out why I was replacing the mom who held her only moments after she was born?

I can never really know -- and perhaps they themselves will never fully understand -- how that separation impacted them.

What I can do is acknowledge that separation.

What I can do is make sure they know it is okay to mourn the loss of the life they might have had with their birth family.

And what I can do is stick with them as they learn that this adoption stuff is hard.

To continue to the next stop of this book tour, please visit the main list at The Open Adoption Examiner.

* I've linked to the Amazon web site if you want to learn more. And, in the spirit of full disclosure, if you purchase through this link, I get a few pennies from their affiliate program.

Choosing Excitement

2011-12-31T17:49:00.001-05:00

"I'm excited," Luke shouts as he bounds up to give me a hug.

"How come?" I ask.

"Because I want to be!"

Somewhere between 4 and adulthood, we forget that we can decide to be excited just because we want to be.

As we head into a new year, I'm going to remind myself often that I can be excited -- and happy and hopeful and content and grateful -- just because I want to be.

Merry Christmas

2011-12-25T08:00:00.000-05:00

Explaining Christmas

2011-12-24T09:00:00.000-05:00

Amidst all the holiday stuff Ashley brought home, was this, an assignment to explain the three December holidays (Christmas, Hanukkah,and Kwanzaa), which they've been talking about the last week in school:

In case, the 1st grade phonetics are hard for you, here's the translation:

Christmas is about Jesus and having fun with your family and friends. You get presents. And Hanukkah is another holiday. Kwanzaa is too. You put up your decorations like ornaments and wreaths and mistletoe. Love Ashley.

So she may be a little fuzzy about the meaning behind Hanakkah and Kwanzaa (although she did teach me that Kwanzaa actually started in the United States, not Africa, and she has been singing the dreidel song repeatedly), but I was impressed that presents were third on her list of what Christmas means.

It's hard as a parent to know how well you're imparting your values to your kids -- but looks like we've communicated the meaning behind Christmas pretty well.

Here's hoping that you have lots of opportunity to enjoy family and friends this weekend!

10 Sure Signs You're A Mom

2011-12-22T21:16:00.000-05:00

1. You find a quiet house just a bit disturbing. (Every mom knows quiet is almost never good.)
2. You can carry on a conversation with stuffed animals, Barbies, cars, dinosaurs, and assorted other toys (and, no, you don't find this odd at all).
3. You've memorized Goodnight Moon, Where the Wild Things Are, and countless other books because you've read them so often (and you're sure that memorizing those has pushed other, more important, details out of your head, which is why you can't find your keys in the morning).
4. You've developed a stomach of steel. A few times cleaning up after sick children or bandaging up bloody boo-boos, and you can handle almost anything.
5. You know the words to the Barney song and several other songs that you really can't stand.
6. You find yourself humming those very same songs at work.
7. You can really see the airplane in the two lopsided circles your 4-year-old has drawn.
8. You've done at least three of those things you swore you were never going to do as a parent, and sometimes you don't even feel bad about it.
9. Your mother's voice has come out of your mouth at least once.
10. You really do have eyes in the back of your head. (Okay, it's really that you're just very, very good at anticipating what your kids are doing -- and, refer back to #1, you know quiet is bad -- but it doesn't hurt if your kids still believe that you just might have magical powers!)

This post was inspired by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

Waiting for the Tooth Fairy

2011-08-08T22:01:00.002-04:00

We are waiting for the tooth fairy. . . . well, at least Ashley is.

She has recently discovered a loose tooth, and is quite certain that it will fall out any moment now. (The tooth barely wiggles.)

Tonight she was eagerly munching on an apple, telling me that one of her friends had told her that when you eat an apple, it will make your tooth fall out. (It's going to have to be much looser before the apple makes any difference, but I didn't tell her that.)

She is convinced the tooth fairy will be here any day now. (I'm pretty sure we have some time, but it does make me wonder just how much the tooth fairy leaves these days. . . . and what she does when she has no cash in her purse, only an ATM card.)

Since this will be our first visit from the tooth fairy, Ashley and Luke are still trying to figure out exactly how this tooth fairy thing works anyway. (Which, I must say, makes for interesting dinner conversation.)

Ashley: "You leave your tooth under the pillow and when you wake up, she's under there."

Me: "No, the tooth fairy isn't under your pillow."

Ashley: "No, she leaves you money under there."

Luke: "Does she bring snacks?" (You can tell where his priorities are.)

Ashley: "No, she leaves you money so you can buy toys, lots of toys." (And, you can see where her priorities are -- although she clearly doesn't realize that the tooth fairy is on a budget.)

Luke: "But what about snacks? I want her to bring snacks." (He's on his third helping of green beans as he says this. The boy will need a job before too long in order to satisfy his appetite. . . . the snack fairy is on a budget, too.)

Ashley: "No, Luke, no snacks, only money so you can buy toys."

Luke: "Then I don't want her to come."

Me: "Don't worry Luke, she won't come see you for a couple of years."

Luke: "I don't want her to come see me ever."

Me: "Okay, she doesn't have to come see you if you don't want her to. We'll talk about it when you lose a tooth." (And, if he changes his mind, perhaps I should tell her that a cheese stick and a handful of grapes will be fine for Luke -- none of that money stuff.)

Ashley: "Well, she's going to come see me. What day does she come, Mom?"

Me: "The day you lose your tooth."

Ashley: "But what day is that? Because I want to make my tooth fall out on that day." (That actually makes sense in the mind of an almost 7-year-old. And what's more amazing, it even makes sense when you're the mother of an almost 7-year-old.)

Me: "She doesn't come on any certain day, Ashley. When you lose your tooth, she comes that night, no matter what day it is." (Of course, that means she better have a stash of money available. I don't think Ashley and the ATM card would make a good match.)

As we clear the table after dinner, Ashley informs me that I need to buy more apples so she can make her tooth fall out.

Guess we're all going to figure out how this tooth fairy thing works.

Let's Send Congressional Mothers to Washington

2011-07-31T22:38:00.000-04:00

Supposedly, Congress and the President have reached agreement on a plan to raise the debt ceiling -- although nobody has voted yet, so there may yet be more arguing, fighting, and whining coming out of Washington in the next couple of days.

After listening to all the Congressional squabbling about raising the debt ceiling, I've decided that what we really need is to require our Congressmen to bring their mothers with them to Washington. I guarantee you most mothers would not have put up with the childish arguments for this long.

After just a couple of days, most mothers would have grabbed their recalcitrant children firmly by the arm, whispered "don't embarrass me in public" through clenched teeth, and dragged them off to a private corner for a serious talk. (You know, the kind where both you and everyone standing around knows you're in lots of trouble.)

And in all those private corners in Washington, Moms would say:

"No name calling." It should go without saying that calling the other side names is no way to get to an agreement. This would be followed by what a friend of mine calls "the Thumper rule" (from Bambi): "if you can't say something nice, then don't say nothing at all." Of course, that might mean we wouldn't hear much from many of our Congressmen. (And maybe that's not such a bad idea.)

"It's not always about you. Sometimes you don't get your way. Get over it." Way too many in Congress threaten to pack up their toys and go home when they don't get their way. That's not negotiation. It's the type of preschool problem solving that most of us don't allow our kids to engage in.

The whole debt debate has seemed to be one long childish exchange of "you can't do that" -- "can too" -- "can not" -- "can too" -- "can not" -- "can too." Any mother can tell you, this never ends well.

"You don't get to change the rules of the game." Or put another way, "when people give you what you've asked for, you don't keep adding on to the list of what you want."

As mothers frequently tell squabbling kids, the rules are the rules -- and if you make them up at the beginning of the game, those are the rules you have to play by -- even if you don't like the outcome.

"Sometimes you have to do things you don't like." Let's face it, no one wants their taxes raised and none of us wants cuts made to programs or services that we rely on. But solving the deficit problem isn't going to happen if we keep doing what we're doing. Solving the nation's fiscal problems in a responsible way will likely require lots of things that lots of people won't like.

Our "leaders" should have the backbone to say what countless mothers say to kids every day: You have to eat your vegetables, do your homework, clean your room -- not because it's fun, not because you want to, but because it's what needs to be done.

"No fun stuff until you do your chores." That means no weekend breaks, no pizza parties, no campaign fundraising. You have to do the job first, then you can play.

And if none of those work, perhaps the Congressional mothers could pull out that final Mom threat: "Go back in that room, work it out, or so help me, I'll work it out, and I promise you, nobody will be happy with my solution."

That usually gets my kids to compromise -- you know, one of them says "I'll do this, if you let me have that" and the other one agrees. Maybe they could teach Congress a thing or two.

Becoming A Big Girl

2011-07-28T23:09:00.000-04:00

I watch her lean body, taller now than only a couple months ago,

her face thinner and more defined, not a trace of baby left in it.

"I'll read you a story," she says to her brother.

And she does, less haltingly than even a few weeks ago.

She's always had strong opinions,

but she's more confident now in her desires,
and better able to articulate them.

When I ask about soccer this fall, she tells me no --

it was fun last year, but she'd rather do gymnastics.

She loves art and math and science (especially if it's about animals)

and she's memorized more facts about dinosaurs than I've ever known.

She tells me no more Dora stuff, and not so much Princess stuff, either.

Tinker Bell is okay sometimes, and Barbie is still good.

She knows our favorite colors and foods

She asks if my sunburn is feeling better,
and says "I'm so glad" when I say yes.

I watch her and wonder exactly when it was that she moved out of the baby/preschool/little girl realm and into the world of big girls.

I can't pinpoint when it happened. I only know it has.

This post was inspired by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

prompt: "A moment when you realized your child was growing up."

Wordless Wednesday: Ready for the Bike?

2011-07-14T00:06:00.000-04:00

Memories of Childhood

2011-06-08T22:54:00.001-04:00

Some things you forget.

Or at least you think you do – until you’re reminded, and then you realize you still know them by heart.

I spent the weekend at a confirmation retreat with youth from our church and a nearby church. And then I chaperoned my daughter’s end-of-the-year field trip.

I can’t remember the last time I thought about all the social rules and rituals of childhood and those tumultuous in-between teen years.

But, oh how quickly they come back.

The self conscious ache of those kids who are a little awkward.

The know-it-all swagger of kids who straddle the border of being bullies. Funny , how intimidating they seemed when I was a kid, and how obvious it is now that they, too, are self consciously awkward.

The lonely yearning of the kid no one sits with on the bus.

The rhymes and chants that are so much a part of elementary social life: “Bubble gum, bubble gum in a dish. How many pieces do you wish?” or “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, all dressed in black, black, black, . . .”

The giggly flirting and mock helplessness when tween and teen girls try to get the attention of a cute boy.

The frequent double entendre s of tween and teen boys navigating their way through the new territory of male-female relationships.

The effort at hushed tones followed by bouts of rambunctious laughter during an attempted surreptitious game of Truth or Dare. (And the embarrassed giggles when you’re caught by the chaperones – oops!)

All those may be long in the past, but they’re definitely things I still know by heart.

This post was inspired by this week’s RemembeRED prompt: What from childhood do you remember by heart?

Stop by and check out childhood memories from other bloggers.

Beware of Ice Pops . . . and Other Weapons

2011-05-14T00:52:00.000-04:00

A headline from one of our local television news websites:

Woman Hit Teen With Ice Pop, Charged With Simple Assault

It seems a 20-year-old woman is being charged with two counts of simple assault after she allegedly punched a 17-year-old in the face and hit him in the head with an ice pop. (I'm thinking they must be brother and sister. This sounds too much like the squabbles my kids get into.)

I understand why you'd be charged with assault for punching someone in the face, but an ice pop? Really?

A police lieutenant explained to the local newspaper that "if it's frozen, it can hurt."

Well, maybe a little, but I have to tell you that if this happened in our house, the "offender" would get a time out on general principle, but I wouldn't be very sympathetic if the "victim" (who probably would have instigated it) told me that it hurt. It's an ice pop, for Pete's sake.

But this has gotten me to thinking. If hitting someone with an ice pop really constitutes assault, I figure my husband and I are at risk of being charged with harboring fugitives -- and my kids might just be spending the next several years of their lives in jail.

I'm not sure an ice pop has ever been the "weapon" of choice in our home, but plenty of other things have:

books

Tonka trucks

Barbies

the remote control

train tracks

. . . and probably countless other things that I don't even know about.

Who knew they were risking criminal charges? (And they think time out is bad.)

My Little Heartbreaker?

2011-03-19T23:03:00.000-04:00

Luke has discovered girls. (Or, more accurately, older women.)

But he still has a lot to learn when it comes to romance.

It started in the grocery store one day.

The teenager who was bagging our groceries started talking to him. And he was quite animated as he answered her questions and proceeded to tell her all about our two dogs.

In the car on the way home, he announced, "I love Olivia. I want to go home with her."

I was a little confused. "Who's Olivia?"

"You know, Mom, Olivia. I love her."

"Is she in your class at school?"

"No, Mom," Luke said, clearly exasperated. "She's at the store."

It took me a minute to realize that he was referring to the young girl who had bagged our groceries. Why he had decided to name her Olivia, I don't know, but he had.

I decided not to explain to him that you probably shouldn't make up the name for your "girlfriend"; rather I spent most of the ride home explaining to him that you don't go home with people you don't know.

I'm not sure I convinced him.

A few weeks later, a new teacher started at his preschool, and he promptly announced that he was in love with her.

There was only one problem -- which quickly became apparent as we were driving to preschool one morning. All of the sudden, he asked, "What's her name, Mom?'

"Whose name Luke?"

"My girlfriend. What's her name?"

"She can't be your girlfriend if you don't know her name."

He did not like that response. "Yes she is too my girlfriend. I love her."

"Luke, if you love someone, you need to know her name. If you don't know her name, then she's not really your girlfriend."

"She is my girlfriend."

He was quiet a few minutes, and then said, "What's her name, Mom?"

I think I have lots of work to do if he's ever going to hope to have a girlfriend.

The Search (or is it really stalking?)

2011-02-06T22:28:00.001-05:00

I'm starting to feel a little like a stalker.

And, I think, I'm getting a little taste of what it must feel like to be an adoptee searching for your birthparents. (And, I have to say, it's not an entirely comfortable feeling.)

We had sent packages to the kids' birth mom for Christmas. And, Ashley was very excited because she had carefully picked out gifts and made a card for her birth family.

But then the packages came back, FOE (forwarding order expired) stamped all over them.

Ashley is always very excited when packages arrive at our home, so when the boxes came back, she couldn't wait to open them, hoping they were a belated Christmas gift.

Then I explained what they were, and she was devastated.

So, what's a mom to do? I started trying to figure out how I could find her birth mom.

First, I googled her. No luck.

Then I tried Facebook. After all, it's how I've gotten back in touch with countless old friends.

A quick search and I found the kids' birth mom, and through her friend's list -- the kids' birth grandmother, birth aunt, and birth uncle.

And then I wondered, what's the etiquette for this?

We send letters and pictures a few times a year. Over the past few years, I've invited more contact from the birth mom, but she hasn't chosen to have more contact. Perhaps she'd feel a little strange getting a message from me through Facebook.

But, then again, in our adoption paperwork, there is a section in which the birthmother is asked whether she wants identifying information shared with her children when they turn 18 or with the adoptive parents prior to that for the purposes of maintaining and/or renewing contact. She checked yes.

All of my interactions with the kids' birthmom has led me to believe that she welcomes the photos and information that we send and that she hopes for ongoing contact.

So, I sent her a Facebook message. And waited. . . . . And waited.

Then I checked her Facebook wall. (Okay, this is where I start to feel a little like a stalker -- but I comfort myself with the fact that the wall was public.) There's no activity on her wall since early December -- so I'm not sure how often she's on Facebook.

Since we have met the birth grandmother, and I feel we have some relationship with her, I checked out her wall. (This is where I feel like even more of a stalker -- but again, the wall was public.) Her last activity was in the fall, but I decided I'd send a message to her anyway.

I wasn't terribly surprised not to hear back. Clearly, they're not Facebook addicts.

So for the last couple of weeks I've been entertaining the idea of contacting the birth mom's sister and brother. We met her sister briefly when Luke was born. We've never met her brother.

It feels strange to contact them.

But Ashley so desperately wants some connection -- any connection -- with her birth family.

Her sister's wall is set to private, so I send her a message. Her brother's wall is public, and his last activity was Friday -- 2 days ago! -- so I send him a message, too. (I figure I'm in full stalker mode now -- and it feels even more strange since I feel no real relationship with either of them.)

Somewhere in the midst of all these attempts to reach out to their birth mom, I realize that this is what my children will likely go through if they ever opt to search for their birth fathers or if we're unable to re-establish contact with their birth mom, and they must try later in their lives to find her.

It's odd to have this little window into their experience as adoptees. And I think how sad that they might one day end up feeling a little like stalkers just to establish connections with their biological roots.

Cell Phone Negotiations

2011-01-24T00:17:00.000-05:00

My daughter is somewhat obsessed with cell phones.

It started with a conversation a few months ago when she told me she needed a cell phone so she could text her boyfriend. (Keep in mind that she is 6.)

In the few months since then, she has told me repeatedly how much she really needs a cell phone -- for a variety of reasons. She has not been happy with my response that we won't even begin talking about a cell phone for several more years.

So when she finally got a chance to use a gift card she had received for Christmas, I wasn't very surprised that she bought herself a toy smart phone -- complete with "texting" ability.

A few days after her purchase, we were sitting at the dinner table when I noticed she was playing with something in her lap.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Nothing," she replied in that too-quick way.

"What's in your lap?"

"Nothing."

I leaned over to find her new "cell phone" in her lap. She was "texting."

"Put it up," I said as she gave me the "really, Mom?" look. "Put it away. Cell phones -- real or pretend -- don't belong at the table."

She rolled her eyes as she got up to put it away. (Just exactly where did she learn to act like she's 14?)

It's hard for me to understand how my daughter is already so attached to the idea of a cell phone. Her father and I are of a different generation. We have cell phones -- but they aren't lifelines and they certainly aren't integral to our social lives.

My daughter, alas, will be part of the generation that can't imagine life without a cell phone. I'm sure that much of her socializing will be done via text, or on Facebook, or through some other form of social media or instant messaging. And I'm mostly okay with that -- although it's not, and probably never will be, how I choose to socialize.

I'm sure we'll have many disagreements. I do believe there are some conversations that are best had in person (i.e., you can't dump your boyfriend by text) and I think there are places and times that cell phones just don't belong (i.e., the dinner table).

I just wish those disagreements could wait until she actually has a (real) cell phone.

Civil Discourse

2011-01-16T23:58:00.003-05:00

"Be compassionate to each other."

Those words came from the leader of a memorial walk for those killed in last Saturday's shootings in Tucson. She urged those gathered at the event to "starting tonight and for the rest of your life, be compassionate to everyone."

In the week since the shooting rampage, debate has raged over whether the current tone of our political environment played a role in the shootings. And there's certainly enough blame to go around -- on both sides of the fence -- for a toxic political climate.

But questioning whether ads with cross-hairs or comments about "second amendment remedies" might have caused a mentally unstable young man to open fire at a supermarket makes the debate too easy -- and absolves the rest of us from our role in creating an often contentious climate.

It's too easy to turn those who disagree with us into demons. Too easy to write off those we don't understand. Too easy to let snarkiness pass as real commentary on those issues about which we're passionate. Too easy to forget about compassion.

I want my children to learn to be passionate about the issues that are important to them. And I want them to have opinions -- even strong ones -- about the world around them. But there is a certain amount of hypocrisy when I call some conservative politician or pundit an idiot, and then reprimand my daughter for using the same language about her brother.

I want my children to know that we can disagree with people without demonizing them.

I want them to learn compassion, and respect, and kindness. I want them to know that everyone deserves those -- even the people we disagree with the most, even the people whose opinions drive us the most crazy.

And it's not just politicians who need that lesson.

Snowman Fun

2011-01-05T21:00:00.003-05:00

This Wordless Wednesday post is shared on 5 Minutes for Mom,
Carrie with Children, 3 Princes and a Princess 2, and To Be Thode.

Visit them for other Wordless Wednesday posts.

The Newest Member of our Family (AKA What to do with the tree after the presents are gone)

2010-12-29T01:10:00.003-05:00

His new favorite hiding place . . .
. . . not sure what he's going to do after the holidays!

This Wordless Wednesday post is shared on 5 Minutes for Mom, Carrie with Children,

3 Princes and a Princess 2, and To Be Thode. Visit them for other Wordless Wednesday posts.

The Best Gift

2010-12-26T22:34:00.006-05:00

My daughter decided on the perfect Christmas present about a month and a half ago.

The only problem is her idea about the perfect Christmas gift -- a Nintendo DS -- wasn't in our plans or budget this year.

Back in October, we had opted for a larger family gift with few individual gifts for Christmas. The "we" who made this decision was Andy and me. Ashley, not being part of that decision -- and not really understanding quite what it meant, even when she was informed about it -- remained focused on a DS.

The first time she asked, I told her that I didn't think she would be getting a DS for Christmas. She just looked at me -- quite smuggly -- and said, "That's okay. I'll ask Santa. He'll bring one."

Each time the subject of a DS came up, I tried to prepare her for the reality that she would not be getting a DS for Christmas. And, each time, she remained confident that because she'd asked Santa, she would find a DS under the tree.

One of Ashley's greatest strengths is her boundless enthusiasm. And that has typically made her extremely easy to buy gifts for because she's always excited by whatever she receives.

But this was the first time she had ever staked her hopes so completely on a single wish. So I thought that this year would severely test her ability to be happy with whatever she has.

And, on top of her singular focus on a DS, Ashley has recently added a new act to her drama queen repertoire -- whenever she is in trouble or when things don't go quite the way she planned, she becomes teary and exclaims (multiple times) that "nobody in the family cares about me."

And so, I went to bed on Christmas Eve envisioning all sorts of meltdowns -- because there was no DS, because there weren't enough presents, because she hadn't been consulted on the family gift.

Christmas morning arrived. We opened gifts. And, Ashley was once again excited about each present she opened. After opening gifts, she moved into the kitchen to play with art supplies she had gotten.

And then she said quietly to me, "I didn't get a DS."

Oh, no. Here it comes, I thought. "No, you didn't," I replied.

"But I asked Santa for one." It was a simple statement, no whining, no attitude.

"I know, but you don't always get everything you ask for." I hoped my matter-of-fact tone would lessen the coming explosion.

But, to my surprise, she simply went back to her drawing. And the conversation was over.

Later, she showed me a thank you note she had written: Thank you for a very good Christmas. From Ashley. To Family.

"You had a fun Christmas?" I asked.

She nodded.

"I'm glad," I responded. "What was your favorite part?"

"All of it." Then she paused a minute and added, "But mostly the family time."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I like it when we get to have family time."

Me, too, kiddo, I thought. And shame on me for doubting her.

This post is shared on Perfect Moment Monday.

Click below to read other perfect moments.

No More S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G

2010-12-23T23:10:00.000-05:00

We've reached a milestone of sorts.

Tonight at dinner, we were discussing our plans for tomorrow. I had mentioned an errand I planned to run, and Andy said "Do you plan to take the K-I-D-S?"

To which Ashley immediately responded, "That spells 'kids'!"

I guess all that work on reading is paying off. Now, Andy and I have to develop a new code!

It Is Better To Give

2010-12-20T00:20:00.000-05:00

Ashley started her Christmas list months ago.

And she adds to it almost daily. (After all, there are so many things she has to have -- even though it took us well over an hour to clean her room this afternoon.)

But yesterday, she wasn't thinking about what she wanted for Christmas.

As we were getting ready to head out for some final Christmas shopping, she came to me with a very serious look: "Do you think I could buy presents for my birth family?"

When I asked what she had in mind, she said, "Well I don't really know what they'd like, but I want to get them something for Christmas."

I assured her that we'd find something suitable and asked who she'd like to buy gifts for. She named her birth mom, her birth sister and her birth grandmother.

At the store, she quickly settled on candles for her birth mom and a locket for her birth grandmother ("so she can always have my picture").

Her birth sister was a bit harder. She picked up a toy that she would like and asked if I thought her birth sister would like that.

She was a bit sad when I replied, "Well, she's 10, Ash. I'm not sure she still plays with that stuff."

"But then I don't really know what she wants Mom. How do I know what she'd like?" (This is the same child who picks out her brother's gifts based on what she'd really like to play with -- who knew that she really listened all the times I patiently -- or not so patiently -- explained that you buy people what they want, not what you what you want.)

In the end, we settled on a necklace for her sister, and Ashley happily told me, "She'll love this."

We wrapped them tonight. Ashley drew pictures and made a card. And we packaged them up to mail tomorrow.

At bedtime, when I asked "What are you thankful for?", Ashley replied, "All the presents for my birth family. I'm happy because they'll like them."

Next weekend, her focus may only be on what she got for Christmas -- but this weekend at least, she was focused on the giving part of the season.

This post is shared on Perfect Moment Monday

Happiness

2010-10-22T22:00:00.000-04:00

Exploring the World

Challenging Yourself

Finding Something You Can Be Passionate About

Engaging Wholeheartedly

Naps After A Long Day

Finding (and Creating) Beauty Around You

Finding Your Silly Side

This post is part of the Blog It Forward Happiness Blog Hop hosted by Jennifer at oh, so very me. Yesterday's post in the blog hop was by Metro DC Mom. Tomorrow's post will be by Soccer Mom in Giggle Town. Stop by and check them out.

Kindergarten Independence

2010-09-30T22:39:00.000-04:00

"Mom, can I go in by myself?" Ashley asks me each morning I drop her off at school.

Who would have thought Kindergarten would make such a difference? She's been in school for less than a month, and already she seems so much more grown up.

She's serious about her "homework," eager to "read" to us (and not doing too bad, either) and planning a busy social schedule of play dates and sleepovers.

And definitely letting me know that she doesn't need me quite so much anymore.

I'm proud of her, and a little sad, too. And I'm preparing myself for the day when she doesn't even want to acknowledge my existence anymore.

This post inspired by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

Writing Prompt: Signs that your little one is just not that into you anymore.

Fair Fun

2010-09-07T00:42:00.002-04:00

Ashley was absolutely insistent that she would ride every ride by herself -- and she reveled in her independence.

Luke allowed Andy to take him down the slide once, and then said he wanted to ride with me. But, alas, at the top of the slide, he had a change of heart and begged to go down by himself.
He is (just barely) tall enough -- so by himself he went. (And going down the steps from the Super Slide -- not nearly as easy as going up -- in fact, it's kind of like swimming upstream.)
Then he begged to go again all by himself, and he did.
My baby is growing up.

One day (probably before we know it), they'll be ditching us to go off with their friends.

This post is shared on 5 Minutes for Mom's Labor Day Link Up

Off to School

2010-08-29T23:49:00.001-04:00

She starts Kindergarten this week.

And while those baby pictures don't exactly seem like yesterday anymore, they sure don't seem like almost six years ago, either.

We organized all her school clothes this morning, and I kept thinking, "Oh, no, these are all too big" -- because they seemed, well, huge.

So I held them up to her and had her try a few on, and sure enough, they do fit.

I couldn't help but thinking it was a little like looking at baby clothes -- in reverse.

I remember thinking that those newborn clothes were so tiny and I was worried that she'd not be able to fit into them.

And, then she got here, and they were too big.

It seems just yesterday we were reading Good Night Moon and Where the Wild Things Are and Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born.

Now we're on to Junie B. Jones and Amelia Bedelia -- and there's no way I can memorize all the words to her favorite stories anymore.

She's just as likely to want to listen to a song on the radio as to one of her CDs of children's music.

She has definite ideas about what she wants for her upcoming birthday -- and some of them are things I 've never heard of. She learns about popular culture from her friends, and occasionally has to explain it to us.

As we snuggled in bed tonight, she told me -- as she has for the past few nights -- how nervous she is.

She worries about whether there will be "mean kids," whether I've gotten everything she needs, and whether they will get to do "fun stuff."

In short, she worries about whether she's ready.

But not me. I know she's ready.

I'm not sure I'm ready for her to be ready, but she is.

Oops. . . .Mom Broke The Rules This Time

2010-08-16T22:46:00.003-04:00

Being stopped by the police is bad enough.

Having your children in the car when it happens adds a whole another dimension -- along with a little humor.

We were on our way home when I saw the lights in my rear view mirror.

"What are we doing?" Ashley asked as we pulled over.

"There's a policeman behind us."

"Is he here for us?"

"Apparently so," I said as the police car pulled up behind me.

"Are we in trouble?" she asked.

"You're not in trouble, but Mommy might be."

"What did you do?" she asked incredulously.

Apparently I didn't stop completely at the stop sign before I turned.

As I was getting my license and registration,Ashley leaned forward and said to the police officer, "You seem very nice."

"Thank you," he said.

"Policemen are usually nice, Ashley," I said as I handed him my license and registration.

As he walked back to his cruiser to run my license, Ashley asked, "Why are you in trouble, Mommy?"

"Because I didn't follow the rules, Ashley."

"Why not?"

There's a certain irony to being reprimanded by your child. There's even greater irony when the child doing the reprimanding is the one who often treats rules as suggested guidelines to be ignored when they get in your way.

"Well, Ashley, you know how sometimes you don't obey the rules?" She nodded. "Well, this time I didn't follow the rules."

"Oh, this is very bad," she said solemnly.

"So, Mom," she piped up a few minutes later in a matter-of-fact tone of voice,"who's going to take care of us if he takes you to jail?'

"He's not taking me to jail, Ashley."

"How do you know?

"Because people don't go to jail for running a stop sign."

"But, Mom, you didn't follow the rules and he's in charge."

"Yes, Ashley, but he's not sending me to jail. He's going to give me a ticket. That's what happens when you run a stop sign."

Thankfully, this line of questioning was brought to an end when the policeman returned.

Whether it was my daughter's flattery or my clean driving record (or some combination of both), he let me go with a warning.

"Did he give you a lottery ticket?" Ashley asked as we pulled back onto the road.

Oh, if only police officers gave lottery tickets at traffic stops.

Future Chef???

2010-08-11T08:00:00.017-04:00

Check out more Wordless Wednesday photo posts!

A few markers, a couple of kids, and some imagination . . .

2010-08-07T10:13:00.005-04:00

I should have known I was in trouble when I heard "did you come here for the facepainting?" while the kids were coloring . . . .

. . . And just in case you were wondering, "washable" markers don't come off completely when there's this much of them on your face.

Head on over to Mama's Losin' It to see photos from more bloggers.

A Perfect Day

2010-07-05T23:41:00.000-04:00

My baby is not such a baby anymore.

While I've known that for a while,

the last couple of months have really proved it.

He's almost as tall as his sister -- his head right at her shoulder.

He has real conversations now. . . . and the thought process

behind those conversations is becoming impressively complex.

He's become quite a little jokester,

with an amazingly expressive face

that he uses with great comedic timing.

Today he turned 3

. . . and was quite emphatic about how to spend the day.

First, there had to be birthday cake (a boy after my own heart!)

And, we had to start the day with pancakes -- blueberry pancakes.

And there had to be pizza for dinner. . . and don't forget the cake (with candles, of course.)

And he wanted to play in the pool before dinner.

Then, of course, there were presents

(which, he was very quick to inform his sister, were not hers.)

There were Toy Story figurines, Hot Wheels cars,

a Thomas train set -- all big hits.

And, then there was the Thomas the Tank Engine bicycle helmet,

which made him feel very grown up.

And, the tractor with all sorts of sounds,

which was the favorite toy . . .

. . . until he opened

the BASKETBALL

and then he was let outside to the garage where the hoop was stored

(Photo from Little Tykes promotional material)

He took one look, and shouted "I'm a basketball player!"

and ran back inside to get the ball.

His technique needs a little work still,

but I'm keeping my fingers crossed
for a basketball scholarship in 15 years.

Happy birthday, little guy

This post is shared on Mommy Moment Mondays
at frugalmomknowsbest.com

The Importance of Fathers

2010-06-20T08:01:00.048-04:00

My daughter and I are both mourning the losses of fathers today.

For me, it's the death of my father --somewhat unexpected -- in April, a loss that still doesn't always feel real.

For my daughter, it's the absence of her birthfather, a man she doesn't know and perhaps may never know.

We know very little about Ashley's birthfather. We know his name and his age, but Ashley's questions go far beyond that: Where does he live? What's his favorite color? Does he know about me?

This week has been especially difficult. On Thursday evening, she sobbed hard and long because she wouldn't be able to give her birthfather a Father's Day present.

As her dad and I held her while she cried, I couldn't help but think both how similar and how different our grief is.

Like Ashley, Father's Day is hard for me this year. Ads, overheard conversations about Father's Day plans, even taking Ashley shopping to get gifts and cards for her dad all make the loss of my dad real and immediate.

But unlike Ashley, I am mourning a relationship that has lots of memories and few unanswered questions. I don't have to wonder about my dad or who he was. I don't have to question my role in his life.

Unanswered questions are hard, and so I know Ashley will struggle in her own separate way.

But today, we will both be finding ways to honor fathers who aren't with us, to acknowledge that even when they're not around, dads are pretty important people.

Lifegivers Book Tour: Thinking About Birth Families

2010-06-17T23:23:00.001-04:00

Birthparents are a common theme in our house these days.

My daughter has reached the age where she is starting to understand what it really means to be adopted.

Her birth family is no longer an abstract concept for her. They are real people – her family – from whom she is separated.

And she’s struggling with that. Her wish is that all of us – her birth and adoptive families – would just live together. She sums up her struggle this way: “There’s a problem. If I lived with my birth family, I would miss you. And when I live with you, I miss my birth family. That’s really hard.”

Yes, it is.

And so it was against the backdrop of my daughter’s struggles that I recently read Lifegivers: Framing the Birthparent Experience in Open Adoption* by James L. Gritter. I read the book as part of The Open Adoption Examiner book tour – kind of an online book club with some set questions and opportunity for online discussion.

Lifegivers definitely provided food for thought, especially in light of my little one’s struggles. It talks about the birthparent experience and the way birthparents are often marginalized in the adoption process. And, it talks about the importance of the birthparent role to the adopted child.

Question one from the book tour is: Given that Lifegivers speaks to an open adoption perspective, how would you apply the information in the book to an adoption that is closed by the birthparent's choice?

Ours is not a fully open adoption. We had some contact with the birth mom prior to the adoption of our daughter and met her when Ashley was placed with us.

When she became pregnant again and felt unable to parent that baby, she called and asked if we would adopt him. We did, and Ashley got to meet her birth mom when Luke was placed with us.

But aside from that, contact with our children's birth mother is limited to the letters and photos that we send to her a few times a year. I’ve occasionally invited more contact, by providing her my email address or inviting her to write us back. But she has so far chosen not to have more contact.

The lack of contact has always made me sad, so I was especially interested in the Lifegivers chapter on reluctant birthparents. Gritter identifies many reasons birthparents choose a more limited role – including sadness, shame, ambivalence, fear of a child’s response, and the assumption that perhaps the adoptive family prefers less contact.

I have no way of knowing which of those reasons apply to Ashley’s birth mom. What I do know after reading this book is that my children’s lives will be diminished without the presence of their birth family, something Ashley is beginning to struggle with.

Certainly part of my job as her mom is be there through her struggles, to help her identify and understand her sadness and loss, and to find ways to help her work her way through it.

But another part of my job is to continue to advocate for Ashley – to continue to invite her birthmother’s presence in her life and to make a welcoming space for my children’s birth family.

Question two from the book tour is: Gritter gives 8 ways that lifegivers can fit in. Choose one way and tell about it in your situation.

While my children’s birth mother has chosen to have minimal involvement thus far, the fact that we did have the chance to meet and talk with her does add richness to our adoption experience.

Gritter talks about the role of birth parents in telling the birth story and providing genealogical context.

Conversations we had with the birth mom and her mother prior to my daughter’s birth and shortly after have given us a wealth of details – that her birth grandmother gave Ashley her first bottle, that her birth mom likes to dance, that Ashley gets her beautiful long fingers from her birth mother.

Those details are important to Ashley – and I’m guessing similar details will one day be important to Luke. And the fact that we know the names of the birth mom’s family does give Ashley a sense of a “birth family” rather than simply an isolated birth mom.

Question three from the tour is: Regarding the exclusive roles of parents (birthparents as life givers, adoptive parents as caregivers), Gritter says "Open adoption recognizes the deep sadness associated with not being able to provide a vital dimension of parenting." How did/will you work through this sadness in your own triad?

For us, the decision to adopt was an easy one. We had decided even before starting fertility testing that if the test results showed a need for invasive interventions (basically anything beyond fertility drugs), we would adopt.

So, when the infertility specialist told us that her recommendation would be in vitro fertilization, we contacted the adoption agency. I’ve never regretted that decision, and my children couldn’t possibly be anymore mine if I had given birth to them.

And yet, when someone I know is pregnant, I feel this little twinge.

I did want to be pregnant. I did want the ultrasound photo. I did want to feel the baby move and kick. I did want to be there for the first moments of life for my children.

At times I think those are probably small losses compared to what my children’s birth mother felt. And perhaps even small losses compared to what my daughter is feeling now.

But they’re also huge losses.

I no longer avoid conversations about pregnancy. And I can feel excited now when a pregnant friend or coworker talks about seeing the ultrasound image or feeling the baby move.

But there is still a little twinge of sadness, and I suspect there always will be.

As my daughter is learning now, adoption begins with loss. And all the other aspects of adoption get built on top of that.

To continue to the next leg of this book tour, please visit the main list at The Open Adoption Examiner.

*I've linked the book to the Amazon website if you want to check it out. And in the spirit of full disclosure, if you purchase it from Amazon through this link, I get a few pennies through their Affiliates program.

Bouquets of Love

2010-05-27T10:12:00.000-04:00

I arrive at daycare after a long day,

and I'm greeted with outstretched hands

clutching flowers,

slightly wilted from the summer heat.

"These are for you, Mommy," he says,

shoving them into my hand.

"I pulled them for you."

And suddenly the day isn't quite as long.

Visit Alli-n-Son for more

Thank You Journal entries.

Our Little Entertainer

2010-04-07T23:50:00.000-04:00

Can't quite figure out how to set the audio on my camera -- but this doesn't need sound. He's quite a little showman!

Can't We Talk About Something Else?

2010-04-05T23:44:00.000-04:00

I'm coming to accept that being a parent means all sorts of things will come out of your mouth that you never dreamed of -- and that you'll end up matter-of-factly discussing lots of topics that might seem a little odd to those without children.

In our house these days, it seems that many of our conversations center around bathroom topics -- ah, the joys of potty training.

"Get your hand out of the toilet" and "Yes, you will put your pants back on" seem to be frequent comments, made at least a few times a week.

"Keep your penis in your pants" or "We don't show people our private parts" are even more frequent as my 2 1/2 year old has become enamored with his masculinity.

Then there are Luke's observations about his bowel movements -- whether it's the size ("That's a daddy poop!") or the amount ("That's sure a lot of poop down there!") or other assorted information ("My poops are touching each other. Look they're kissing!").

And, I continue to be amazed at the number of times "poop" can be worked into a conversation that has absolutely nothing to do with the bathroom -- because my 2 1/2 year old is completely fascinated by poop, or at least by the word.

I console myself with the thought (hope!) that this phase won't last long -- and I'm spending lots of time reminding myself of all my child development knowledge, which would suggest that this fascination with bathroom topics may actually bode well for the final stages of potty training.

One thing I haven't quite figured out yet, though, is how the same child who is so fascinated with poop can become quite distressed -- even a little OCD -- at the thought of boogers touching any part of his body. Oh, the mysteries of 2 year olds!

Read about other "Mommy Moments" at

Easter Fun

2010-04-03T23:44:00.000-04:00

Snazzy Dressers

2010-03-17T22:36:00.001-04:00

See more great images from other bloggers at Wordless Wednesday.

Top Ten Signs of Spring

2010-03-16T23:35:00.000-04:00

1. 64 degrees!! Woo-hoo!!!!! . . . And more to come later this week.

2. Are those daffodils poking through the mud?

3. It's still light when we get home. (Of course, I'm still missing that extra hour of sleep!)

4. But, it's still light when we get home!!! That's worth an hour of sleep!

5. Mud, mud, and more mud.

6. Rain, not snow!

7. Puddles . . . Luke's new favorite playground. (And, did I mention mud?)

8. Birds and they're happy little songs.

9. Flower show this weekend!

10. Sunshine, and lots of it!

Bedtime Moments

2010-03-13T22:08:00.001-05:00

I've always loved bedtime with my kids.

There's something cozy and tender and precious about those few moments after the bedtime story and our goodnight rituals are finished.

When they were babies, I found those moments some of the most peaceful and relaxing.

Now that they're older, those are the moments I often fall in love with them all over again.

Even after rough days when all of my patience has been exhausted, I often find myself lingering just another minute, or two, or five, to enjoy those last few minutes of the day before they slip off to sleep, looking so young and vulnerable and sweet.

Sometimes, especially after rough days.

And so it was tonight.

Ashley and I are in the midst of a week-long effort (aka battle) to get her room clean. The combination of her stubbornness and distractibility and my slow recovery from strep throat is not creating the ideal environment for success. We've both been frustrated and angry with each other several times over the last few days.

But tonight after our bedtime routine, we snuggled, we talked, we giggled a little.

And suddenly in place of the child who was trampling all over my very last nerve was my feisty, too-smart-for-her-own-good little Ash-a-boo, who gets the cutest little wrinkle in her nose when she smiles.

Yes, I love bedtime with the kids.

Dress-Up Day Disappointments

2010-03-12T22:13:00.005-05:00

I let my daughter down today.

It probably won't be the last time. But, as far as I know, it was the first.

Today was a dress-up day for Ashley's preschool class. They were able to dress as their favorite fairy tale character -- and there was a parade.

I saw the note when I dropped Ashley off on Monday, and we even talked Monday afternoon about what she wanted to be -- a fairy princess.

But then on Tuesday, she was sick and we both stayed home.

And on Wednesday she and I were both sick, so we stayed home.

Yesterday, I was sick, so her father took her to school. And, since he doesn't do the school thing very often, he's not in the habit of checking out the notes on the board.

By this morning, fairy tale dress-up day had totally slipped my mind. (And apparently Ashley's, too, since she didn't say anything.)

But then we arrived at school -- where there were princesses and fairies and knights. And I remembered.

As Ashley was taking her jacket off, one of her friends asked, "Ashley, what did you dress up as?" And Ashley remembered.

I watched Ashley blink away tears, trying to convince herself that it didn't matter. But, of course, it did.

"I won't be in the parade," she said through tears. And I knew what she really meant: I won't be a part of the group, like all the other kids. I'll be an outsider.

And I felt like crying. I remember that feeling. And I suppose I had the naive belief that somehow I could protect my children from it -- as if any kid ever escapes it totally.

My "solutions" sounded lame even to me. Perhaps there's something in the dress-up box in your class. Maybe we can use some art supplies to make a crown and some wings.

One of the teachers came to the rescue with a unicorn costume from the dress-up box in another class. Ashley put it on, but it wasn't a fairy princess.

Fortunately, I work for a social service agency that works with young children. And we have a playroom. So, I raided our dress-up clothes and came up with a crown and some scarves.

I went back to Ashley's school. We crafted a fairy princess look of sorts -- not quite what either of us imagined on Monday. But Ashley was satisfied. And I was forgiven -- at least this time.

Some random Tuesday thoughts . . .

2010-03-02T11:04:00.000-05:00

Saying Goodbye to Babies

2010-02-07T23:19:00.005-05:00

We got rid of the bassinet this weekend.

We haven't used it in over two years, but it had sat in our bedroom -- a catchall for various things. But we finally got around to taking it apart (one step in my goal of sorting through all the old baby stuff we still have hanging around).

And as glad as I am to be finally putting it away, it made me a little sad, too.

There are so many days that I'm ready for my kids to be just a little bit older, more independent.

I'd love to be able to take an uninterrupted shower. Luke's making great progress on potty training, and I'm eagerly looking forward to the day when diapers are a thing of the past. And, I love the fact that Ashley has finally gotten to an age where she can get up on a Saturday morning, find herself something appropriate to eat and entertain herself for an hour or so before I get out of bed.

But some days I miss my babies. And they do seem to grow up so fast.

As I was disassembling the bassinet, Luke asked what I was doing. I told him I was taking it apart and putting it away because we don't have babies anymore.

And because Luke is very proud of being a "big boy" now, he said to me several times throughout the day, "We don't have babies anymore."

No, we don't have babies anymore.

Sometimes I really miss those babies.

This post is shared on Your Life, Your Blog @ Real Life Blog

As I Was Saying

2010-02-01T22:38:00.001-05:00

I’m no longer shocked when I hear my mother’s words come out of my mouth.

I have learned to accept that it’s just one of those things that happens when you have kids – for better or for worse, you find parts of your mother that make their way into your parenting.

But I am still shocked when I hear my words come out of my children’s mouths. (Usually because the words that make their way out of my children’s mouths are the ones that I’m least proud of.)

At two and a half, Luke has quite an accomplished vocabulary – but there are times it seems much of it (maybe too much on some days) comes from me.

There are ones that are kind of cute (and that show off my good Mommy side): “Good job, Mommy!” or “I did a really good job!” or “I’m a snazzy dude!”

And there are the playful ones: “Okey dokey artichokey” and “See you later alligatordile” (His unique blend of the “later alligator, after while crocodile” routine.

But then there are several that make me cringe (at least a little):

When we’re stopped in traffic, he often yells from the back seat: “Come on, peoples!” or “Get out of my way peoples!” Guess I’m a little impatient in the car sometimes. Although, in my defense, I’m glad he spends more time in the car with me than with his dad (whose language when driving is slightly more colorful than mine).
Speaking of colorful language, Luke has picked up a couple of colorful phrases. I’ve never been a big swearer, and I’ve made a conscious effort at monitoring my language since I’ve had children. (Okay, if I’m honest, since Ashley was Luke’s age and chose to use a couple of not so nice words.) But, Luke gives me occasional reminders that I need to be a little more vigilant.
“Get in time out, NOW.” I may once have worried about Luke’s ability to stand up to Ashley, but he is rapidly showing that he can hold his own with his big sister. He relishes telling her to go to time out – and he has mastered the “I’m so frustrated I’m ready to scream” tone of voice. (Oops...)

In the midst of my usual morning routine of herding distractible children to the car, I said to both of them: “Stop playing around and get to the car right now.” Luke turned to me and with a concerned look said “Mommy, are you crazy?” This is because when I get really frustrated at them, I say “you are making me crazy.” (Not my proudest Mommy moment, but it does slip out from time to time.) I guess on that particular morning I was using my “you’re making me crazy” tone of voice.

Oh, the things children teach us. Maybe I should go ponder ways to change my language.

2009 Photo Faves

2010-01-07T22:04:00.000-05:00

It's kind of fun to go back through the last year's worth of photos and remember some of our fun times. Here are some of my favorites from last year.

These first two, we took at Target with the kids. We let them try on hats and sun glasses. They had a great fun with their "modeling" stint.

Yes, I suppose this means we have a somewhat boring life. But you take your entertainment where you can get it.

I think this one is very sweet.

Ashley had a blast decorating Easter eggs. She's quite creative and loves to do "crafts," so this was a big thrill for her. And she was quite proud to do them all by herself.

This is one of my favorite photos of Luke. After a busy day on vacation, he fell asleep on the way to the car with his brand new bear. The bear has become his very best friend and favorite snuggly.

This picture is the wallpaper for my computer and everytime Luke sees it he says, "My bear is asleep just like me."

Doesn't that face say it all? Sheer joy on the merry-go-round at the fair.

My little sheep from the Christmas pageant at church. I love the pensive look.

See more great photos from other bloggers at

Ten Great Things About the Start of the New Year

2010-01-05T22:19:00.000-05:00

1. SCHEDULES!!! I have a great job with lots and lots of time off around the holidays. And it was lots of fun and a great break, but I'm glad we're back to our regular schedules. Anyone with young kids knows they thrive on schedules and routines. A couple of weeks out of the regular routine was tiring for all of us. It feels good to be back to our normal routine.

2. Longer Days: Living up north has made me attuned to the shrinking daylight of the late fall. It's still dark before 5 now, but it takes a little bit longer each day for the darkness to take over. And I know in a few weeks, we'll be able to see a few slivers of light at 5 and beyond.

3. Healthy Food: I love holiday food, and I've pretty much given up on trying to resist the many goodies that crop up between Thanksgiving and Christmas. But now that the holidays are officially over, it's good to get back to more healthy eating habits. At this point, I don't even miss the sugar all that much.

4. A Fresh Start: I love the sense of promise the New Year holds with its emphasis on resolutions. So, yes, there will be the usual eat less, exercise more, lose weight, yell less at the kids, be a better person type resolutions. And some of them will fall by the wayside, I'm sure. But I like the feeling that I've got the chance to "start over" with all those areas in my life that I know need some work.

5. New Additions to the Wardrobe -- thanks to Christmas presents.

6. New books (both mine and the kids) -- again, thanks to Christmas presents.

7. Snowmen: We haven't built one yet (although we do now have lots of snow), but there is a little snowman family down the road from us that makes me smile everytime I drive by it. And, we've got plenty of snow, so I'm sure we'll have our own little snowman (or two or three) soon.

8. Winter Comforts -- warm fires on snowy afternoons, a mug of cocoa, hot tea, warm cider.

9. The Promise of Spring: Okay, I know that it's still four or five months away, but it's closer than it was a month ago.

10. We're that much closer to putting two-year-old temper and opposition behind us! While I know every age has it's challenges, I have to say that the second time through "the terrible twos" is just a little more tiring than I remember. I'm ready for a little less screaming and a little more cooperation.

For more great Top Ten Tuesday lists, visit

at ohamanda.com

Remembering 2009.

2010-01-01T22:55:00.010-05:00

One of my favorite year-end rituals is going back through the year just passed.

I go back through my calendar to transfer birthdays -- and inevitably end up looking at other entries on the calendar and remembering some of the events of the past year.

And I do engage in the tradition of setting New Year's resolutions -- not always a successful venture, but it's an acknowledgement of the fact that there are goals I'd like to work toward. Heck, sometimes I even manage to meet one or two of them, but it's always interesting to look back at the goals for the year before and to remember what seemed important at the beginning of the previous year.

And, before I record my new resolutions in my journal, I always read back through the entries from the past year. I'm often amazed at how things (both good and bad) that seemed so important at the time I recorded them have faded into a distant memory. I think that's a good lesson -- both in how all bad things eventually pass and in how hard it is for us to remember to treasure the good times.

So, the 2009 Blog Recap Carnival from the blog Musings of a Housewife seemed a great way to take a quick look at my blog for the past year.

So, I'm including the first line of the first post of each month for the past year. (Well, except for those months when things got busy and I didn't quite get around to blogging -- that's one of those new year's resolutions -- to blog on a more consistent schedule (like maybe at least weekly) this year!)

I've linked back to the original post in case you missed it, or want to re-read it.

JANUARY
"But I don't like timeout!" Ashley shouts from the step where she has been sent after throwing a toy across the room because she was told she could not watch television.

Some things don't change much in a year! Ashley still has quite a temper (and still argues about being sent to timeout). Although, she is less inclined to throw things now, and more likely to stomp her feet or simply argue (often quite loudly). I suppose that's an improvement.

Although, this post was really about Luke's newly discovered temper. And a year later, he has definitely mastered the art of the temper tantrum -- although, he still is more compliant than Ashley when he's angry.

FEBRUARY
Oops . . . that was one of those months when I just didn't seem to get around to posting.

MARCH
We have -- finally -- reclaimed our bed.

It doesn't seem possible that it's been a whole year since Ashley began sleeping in her own bed. Of course, it was only a short time later that Luke began making the nightly journey to our bed. And, I struggled with that for a while because I know Ashley felt very left out. But, then again, Luke was not even 2, and I wasn't quite ready to draw the line with him.

But, we have, once again reclaimed our bed.

Last week, we began telling Luke he had to sleep in his own bed. The first night was awful . . . he and I made many trips back to his room, accompanied by much sobbing and wailing on his part. (The timing of our decision was deliberate -- I had lots of time off work, so I figured if I wasn't sleeping at night, at least I'd be able to nap.) But Luke has adjusted fairly well after that first night. We've had an occassional teary moment, but mostly he has delighted in telling me that he is a big boy because he sleeps in his bed.

APRIL
Oops . . . Another one of those blogless months.

MAY
Ashley has been excited for Mother's Day to arrive since last weekend when she went shopping for her father for Mother's Day gifts.

This was a post of a variety of reflections on Mother's Day . . . thoughts about my children's birthmother, about my parenting style, and the ways motherhood has changed me.

JUNE
Hmmm. . . . there seems to be a pattern here for my ability to maintain a blogging schedule. Although, I'm happy to say that June was the last month that I didn't find time to do at least one post.

JULY
My "baby" turned 2 today.

Oh, dear, this one makes me a little teary just reading it. And, now, as he'll proudly tell you, he is 2 1/2. Where does the time go?

AUGUST
I think I'm fairly technically literate.

This post was prompted by an article about what parents do and don't know about the online lives of their children. Mine are still too young for this to be a big issue in our household, but I do sometimes wonder how I'll manage limit setting in a high tech world with children who may be more savvy than I am.

SEPTEMBER
It's definitely beginning to seem like fall here in New England.

This is one of those posts that made me smile just to look at it again. There were several photos of the kids at the fair, and just seeing the pictures brought back memories of that fun day!

OCTOBER
I don't often get to talk about my job.

I wrote this post about the program I work in at a social service agency. The program serves a group of young mothers in poverty and this year, the moms started a blog (http://www.familieslearningtogether.net/).

NOVEMBER
The kids and I stopped at a local diner for lunch yesterday.

I had forgotten all about this post, but it was definitely worth re-reading for it'slesson in finding the good in life and being grateful for what we have, rather than always wishing for things to be different.

DECEMBER
"I want to see Christmas."

This was a frequent refrain in our house this holiday season -- and it helped me look for Christmas in our day-to-day life.

Happy 2010!!

This post is shared on Real Life's Your Life Your Blog

Christmas Lessons

2009-12-20T22:54:00.001-05:00

It's hard to teach the real meaning of Christmas to children -- especially to a 2 and a 5 year old.

In our house, we have lots of talk about Santa Claus and opening presents. Ashley seems to have the never-ending list of all the things she hopes she gets for Christmas. Luke is fascinated by decorations -- ours and those he sees as we're out driving.

We also try to have some conversation about why we celebrate Christmas. We're doing a nightly Advent meditation and prayer. And we talk about how Christmas is Jesus' birthday (which does excite my kids, especially Luke, but I think only because they associate birthdays with presents and cake).

So today I was pleasantly surprised when Ashley brought me her latest Play Doh creation.

It's the baby Jesus in his manger. And she told me the story of how Jesus was born in the manger because there was no room anywhere else.

Then she added some hay (the yellow around the manger) and a star (the blue on baby Jesus' chest).

Then she added a snail to be one of the animals watching over the baby. And even though I've somehow missed the story of the snail in the manager, that doesn't mean there wasn't one there. Then she added the gold for his present (along with a pink star in the center).

At this point, I was feeling pretty proud. She has been listening to the stories she hears from us and in Sunday School. And even though she can manage to display rampant materialism on a regular basis, maybe, just maybe, she's understanding a little bit of the real Christmas story, too.

Of course, then she added a volcano to her manager scene. But, I'm still hoping a little bit of the true meaning of Christmas is sinking in.

Snow Day

2009-12-09T17:07:00.000-05:00

This was the view out our window this morning.

So we opted to stay home (especially since I've been delaying the inevitable switch over to snow tires).

The kids and I reveled in the luxury of a lazy day with no demands, no long lists of things to be done. We listened to Christmas carols and addressed Christmas cards. We made a cake. We snuggled together and took a nap.

It was an unexpected break from a hectic week, nature's way of telling us to slow down -- that even at this busy time of year, we can afford a bit of time to relax.

Seeing Christmas

2009-12-08T00:35:00.004-05:00

"I want to see Christmas."

This is Luke's way of saying that he wants to see more Christmas decorations as we're driving home. Or, that he wants our Christmas tree lights turned on.

Ashley, ever the big sister, was very happy to tell him that he wasn't seeing "Christmas" because Christmas is a day and you can't see it.

But after several discussions about how Christmas means different things to different people, she has now joined Luke in "seeing Christmas" in a variety of settings. And it's made me think about all the places and all the ways that I see Christmas:

The first snowfall and watching the joy of my children as they run through the new snow.
When Ashley helps Luke get his breakfast in the mornings.
In Luke and Ashley's renditions of Christmas songs.
Watching the young moms I work with as they strive to overcome barriers to make life better for themselves and their children.
In the early morning snuggles and cuddles with the kids before the alarm goes off (or after we've hit the snooze button for "just a few more minutes" before we get up to face the day)
When Luke offers popcorn (his very favorite snack) to Ashley (without any prompting).
In the smiles and giggles of children as they sit in the lap of Santa.
When my daughter insists that we put money in the Salvation Army kettle "because it's for people who don't get to have Christmas like us."

Where do you find Christmas?

This post is shared on ChristmasChange.

See other great blogs about finding the real meaning of Christmas.

Getting in the Christmas Spirit

2009-12-03T22:55:00.001-05:00

Santa Claus is Coming to Town . . . . . the Ashley version.

I Did It!!!

2009-11-30T22:36:00.000-05:00

Back at the end of October, I decided to participate in National Blog Posting Month for November -- the goal was to post a blog entry every day.

I decided to challenge myself to a month of daily blogging because my previous blog posts had been somewhat haphazard.

My goal has always been to find some kind of semi-regular (and reasonably frequent) blogging schedule, but I've let myself get away with excuses -- too much to do, no great ideas, too stressed/tired/etc. This seemed a good way to get myself in the habit of regular blogging.

It does feel more like a habit now. While I probably won't keep up with daily blogging, I'm planning to post a few times a week. (Hopefully about things that are at least somewhat interesting, LOL.)

JIngle Bells

2009-11-29T23:29:00.001-05:00

This may become my favorite version of Jingle Bells :-)

We've had a great start to the holiday season with musical entertainment from Ashley and Luke!

Celebrating Spiritedness

2009-11-28T11:02:00.001-05:00

"Settle down."

"Please lower your voice."

"Stop it, now."

"Take a breath and calm down."

Somedays I feel like I spend my entire day uttering phrases such as these.

(And, admittedly, sometimes, I utter things that -- in the words of a friend of mine -- venture into the "dark side" -- you know when you say things or yell in ways that you swore you never would, and that you're not very proud of later.)

Usually these are said to Ashley, my spirited, energetic child.

Is it any wonder then that today when I gave them a snack and handed it to Luke first that she asked me if Luke gets things first "because he behaves better"?

Well, no, I explained to her, Luke got his snack first today because he was the one who originally asked for it. And sometimes he gets things first because he's younger and so it can be harder for him to wait. And, I said to her, Luke doesn't always behave better.

But, her comment is an echo of ones she has made before -- that Luke is the calm child and she is the wild child.

And, yes, Luke is in general calmer. But, I don't want Ashley to assume that means she is somehow "second best" because of it.

It's a good reminder to me that I need to celebrate the things that make Ashley uniquely who she is -- and tell her more often how much I value:

Her energy and excitement at the world.
Her ability to make friends with anyone.
Her fearlessness and willingness to try new things.
Her persistence and confidence.
Her sense of self and her willingness to chart her own path.

While some of those things make parenting her frustrating, and a challenge at time, they are all traits that I know will serve her well as she goes through life.

My job (and ongoing challenge) is to accept all of those sides of Ashley so that she can celebrate and embrace them.

Holiday Traditions

2009-11-27T22:08:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about holiday traditions recently.

Because we live far enough away from our families, holiday celebrations are usually just the four of us. For better or worse, that means we get to create our own traditions.

Sometimes it's tempting to take a shortcut, not worry about a big meal or the fuss of holidays. After all, our kids are small. They won't really know the difference.

But then, I do want my children to have some things that the inevitably associate with the holidays, and so we do go to the effort of big meals and a certain amount of fuss -- decorating the house, using my great grandmother's china for meals, remembering to do the advent calendar, lighing advent candles at dinner.

I wonder out of all the traditions we create what it will be that will someday come to represent the essence of the holidays to my children.

I don't think I ever realized what it was to me until long after I was grown.

The first holiday season after I moved to New England, I spent Thanksgiving here. I went with a friend to her mom's home for Thanksgiving with her family, and it was wonderful -- well except, they didn't have my mom's dressing.

And that's when I realized how much that one part of our holiday meals somehow said "Thanksgiving" or "Christmas" to me.

That realization was reinforced when I flew home to Texas for Christmas. My mother -- who has always been so predictable with the exact same meal every Christmas -- decided to make ham instead of chicken and dressing for Christmas dinner.

My sense of disappointment was, I suspect, about far more than missing out on one of my favorite foods. It was, I suspect, about the sense of continuity, the memories of countless family dinners, the security of tradition that my mom's dressing represented.

I now make my mother's dressing (well at least her recipe -- mine is almost as good, but not quite "mom's") for Thanksgiving dinner.

I'm not sure that it will become my kid's signature Thanksgiving food, but anytime I'm tempted to take a shortcut in our holiday celebrations, I remember my mom's dressing. I know that somewhere in our holiday traditions, there will be something that will carry the same symbolic importance to them.

In Gratitude

2009-11-26T22:56:00.003-05:00

For sticky fingers
     that grab my hand
     and leave their mark throughout the house.

For little giggles,
     Silly dances,
     And impromptu songs.

For the stamped foot,
     a demonstration of independence,
     persistence.

For patience . . .
     . . . and unwavering forgiveness
     when patience fails.

For the sounds of play,
     hugs & snuggles,
     and I love yous from little voices.

This post inspired by the Writer's Workshop at Mama's Losin' It.

(Assignment -- Write a poem about something you're thankful for.)

This post is shared on the Adoption Carnival over at Grown In My Heart.

Wordless Wednesday: My Thanksgiving Blessings

2009-11-25T23:48:00.002-05:00

See more great images from other bloggers at Wordless Wednesday.

Alternative Holiday Celebrations

2009-11-24T11:01:00.000-05:00

The Christmas season has definitely arrived -- even if Thanksgiving isn't quite finished yet.

My email box is full of Black Friday promos and stores trying to entice me into more and more buying.

And, while we'll do a certain amount of buying, I'm hoping to find some more meaningful ways to give -- to my family and to others -- this Christmas.

I haven't decided quite what to do yet, but I thought I'd share a couple of online resources that have me pondering some more meaningful ways of celebrating this year.

The Campaign for a Commercial Free Childhood has put together a Guide to Commercial-Free Holidays filled with ideas for eliminating or at least minimizing the commercialization of the holiday. The site also includes a link with tips from other CCFC members.

I've also recently found ChristmasChange, which is devoted to the idea of spending less and giving more to those in need as a way of honoring the real meaning of the Christmas season.

All interesting ideas -- and things to ponder as all the retailers vie for my attention (and $$) this year.

Someday My Prince Will Come . . . Or Maybe Not

2009-11-23T23:09:00.000-05:00

"You are Prince Charming," Ashley tells Luke. And then she gives him very specific instructions on how he is supposed to rescue her.

For a while they play out the standard storyline. Ashley is trapped in a castle and Luke must rescue her.

But as I listen to them play, I hear Ashley hesitate as she gives Luke directions, struggling with being the passive victim in this story.

Passive is not a part of Ashley's make up. And so, soon, she is taking a more active role in her "rescue."

And pretty soon, she comes up with a story in which she and Luke are trapped together in the castle and must escape together.

I'm glad she isn't waiting for someone to rescue her. And, I hope as she grows older, she'll hold onto her desire for independence and equality in her relationships with males.

It's hard to buck traditional stereotypes. But if anyone can do it, it's Ashley.

Adoption Talk

2009-11-22T23:02:00.002-05:00

Adoption is confusing when you're 5.

Ashley knows she's adopted, but she doesn't know quite what that means.

She knows she has an adoption story, and she likes to hear it, but she doesn't understand why everyone else doesn't have an adoption story, too.

She knows that her little brother was born in Phoenix and that we had to fly there to bring him home, and she knows that her friend Abby only had to go the local hospital to bring her baby sister home, but she doesn't understand the difference between the ways that her family and Abby's family were created.

She knows her birth mother's name, and sometimes will ask about her or express an interest in drawing her a picture, but she doesn't really understand the concept of having a birth mother.

She knows that her birth mother is somehow an important person, but I'm not sure she makes any distinction between her birthmother and all of our many relatives and friends she has never met because they live far away.

Adoption, at this point, is really just a word to her.

We are a family that isn't forced to acknowledge adoption.

Our children share our race, and because they are biologically half siblings, they look alike. Even though they don't particularly look like either me or their father, most people who don't know assume that we're a family created by birth.

Because we don't have to acknowledge adoption in the same ways that families who adopt transracially do, adoption talk in house ebbs and flows.

With Ashley, the converstation is often based on her interest or on questions that she has. With Luke, we bring it up occasionally, but he doesn't seem really interested yet.

Ashley and I went to an Adoption Family Night last night. The local adoption consortium sponsors a couple of family events every year. This is the first time we've gone because we've always felt the kids were really too young.

And, even when we decided to go this year, we thought the kids would have fun, but didn't really expect it to mean much to them other than a family outing.

But almost as soon as we told Ashley, she understood that this was somehow special. In fact, while we were out shopping on Saturday, she told practically anyone who would listen that "today's a special day" and then she would tell them we were going to an adoption family night.

But even though she knew it was special, she still struggled to figure out exactly how it was special. At first she thought that some baby was going to be born. Then she thought that someone was getting adopted.

When we arrived and I told her that the other kids there were also adopted, she just looked around and said, "oh" in a somewhat uninterested way and then asked who was getting adopted today.

Yes, adoption is very confusing when you're 5. And, I suspect that it may be confusing -- in new and different ways -- for a very long time.

But we'll keep talking, and perhaps one of these days, she'll figure out all the pieces of her story.

You can learn more about our adoption story here.

November is National Adoption Month. Learn more about adoption from these great resources:
Adoption.com
Adoptive Families
Adoption Today
National Council for Adoption

Related Posts
Real Families
The Start of the Hard Questions

Mysteries of Parenthood

2009-11-21T23:23:00.001-05:00

There are some things I think I will never understand, no matter how long I do this parent thing.

Just a few examples:

Why is the same child who will pick up frogs and lizards and sneak them into her room so terrified of a Daddy Longlegs that she can't walk up the porch steps if she sees one crawling up the side of the house (far away from where she needs to walk)?

How is it that my daughter can always find things that she claims are hopelessly lost the minute she finds I'm unavailable to come find them for her?

How exactly does the 2-year-old know exactly what to say to send his sister into tears? (And why does she fall for it every single time?)

Why is the same child who can spot a piece of candy all the way across the room when it's hidden under things totally unable to find the pair of shoes that are right in front of the TV she is standing next to?

Why do both my children walk right past my husband who is standing in the kitchen to find me in the shower to ask for something to eat?

Why does the smallest person in the house take up the largest portion of the bed? (And how, exactly is it that he manages to nudge two grown ups over so he has an entire half of the bed to himself?)

Why is it that the more tired children become the more hyped up they get? (And where is it they get their energy to start with?)

How exactly did I spend my time before I had children? I'm pretty sure I had a fairly busy life and that at least some of what I did was important -- but I'm certainly not doing it now (and the world does not seem to have fallen apart because it's left undone -- thank God!).

Flashback Friday: One of My Favorite Posts

2009-11-20T23:09:00.000-05:00

Today I'm participating in Flashback Friday today and sharing one of my favorite posts -- from the day that Luke first learned to walk.

I think it's one of my favorite posts because it deals with one of those ever present struggles of parenthood -- celebrating your children's growth and accomplishments while sometimes wishing you could slow things down just a little.

I've been thinking about this struggle a lot lately because it seems both my children have reached new levels of maturity.

Ashley -- always independent -- is becoming more capable in her independence. She makes her own breakfast most mornings, and helps Luke with his. She will sometimes pitch in to set or clear the table, load the dishwasher, or fold socks.

Luke's vocabulary is impressive. He now speaks in full sentences and can communicate pretty much anything he wants. He's able to describe what happened at daycare and he can express what he wants to do. He's had a really great week on the toilet training front with only a couple of accidents -- and has been quite proud to tell me that he is a big boy.

Yes, they are growing up. And while I enjoy the fact that they now sometimes play independently, I also miss my babies. So, while the examples may be different, I think the sentiment in my "Flashback Friday" post is really reflective of what I've been feeling lately.

Letting Go (Originally Published August 25, 2008)

Luke walked by himself today – his first tentative steps. And as I clapped and cheered, I couldn't help but be a little sad too at his first halting steps to independence. This isn't the first time I've felt this way – proud and happy at my children's accomplishments, and a little sad at new evidence of their growing up.

There was the day I took Ashley to the first day of a new session of gymnastics only to learn she had been moved into the next class up – the one where she didn't need a parent to accompany her. I was sure my distractible, energetic child would never make it through class without me there to keep her on track. But as I watched from the observation area, she did fine without me.

And then this summer, I took her into her first day of camp, certain that this experience of being left in a room with strangers – even if only for a few hours – would be difficult. And it was – for me. After we met a couple of the counselors and put away her backpack and lunch, Ashley was off to explore with a very distracted wave goodbye.

Parenting is ultimately about preparing your children to make it in the world without you around. It is, as I am learning, an ongoing process of letting go.

On those days when both kids are clinging to me and demanding more time and energy than I feel I have at that particular moment, I think I'm ready to let go, let them grow up and be more independent. But then there are days like today, when one of them takes a step toward that more independent world.

For every time that I long for just a few grown up moments by myself, there is a time when Luke's chubby fingers grab my hand, when Ashley curls up in my lap and throws her arms fiercely around my neck, or when one of them snuggles against me as they fall asleep. And those make letting go one of the hardest parts of parenting.

Small Kindnesses

2009-11-19T22:41:00.001-05:00

Among all the lessons I hope to teach my children, empathy and kindness are pretty high on the list.

It's hard sometimes to know how successful I'm being. After all, I know that I sometimes fall short in offering good examples to them.

And while I do think they are generally good kids who care about others, the reality is that at 2 and 5 all kids pretty much think the world revolves around them, and so sometimes it's hard to judge how well they're learning the lessons of empathy and compassion.

But over the last few weeks, I've gotten to experience several instances of kindness from my little ones.

I've spent much of the last month fighting off one kind of bug or another.

It started with a nasty tummy bug that I actually caught from my daughter.

The first morning I was sick, Ashley came downstairs, saw me on the sofa and asked what was wrong.

When I told her that I had caught what she had, she instantly said, "Oh, no, Mommy. Can I make you feel better?" (She gets far more points than my husband, whose first words were "Oh, God, don't breathe on me.")

I got many very sweet snuggles that weekend and several inquiries about how I felt. (Of course, they'll get more points in the empathy category when they learn that waking a sick person up to ask how they feel really isn't the best way to show your concern.)

Soon after I recovered from the tummy bug, I ended up with a cold/flu/ongoing cough thing that seemed like it was going away until it returned full force this week.

I wrote earlier this week about Luke's offer to read to me on a night when my voice and cough just wouldn't let me do the typical bedtime story. It was a very sweet way to spend our snuggle time before he went to bed.

And then last night, he walked over to where I was sitting and said, "You still feel sick?" When I said yes, he made a very sad face and said "oh." Then he said "I rub your back" as he gently rubbed my shoulders. Ashley has also treated me to several back rubs during the last week.

While I've certainly enjoyed their kindness, I'm also proud to see how easily and naturally it has seemed to come to them.

My Little Chef

2009-11-18T21:56:00.002-05:00

See other great images from other bloggers on Wordless Wednesday.

Bedtime Stories

2009-11-17T23:12:00.000-05:00

There was a time when I worried that my son wouldn't love books.

We went through a long period where he absolutely refused to allow me to read to him. He would hold the book tightly and scream if I tried to open it.

I spent many nights talking about the covers of many books -- something that calls for a fair amount of creativity, let me tell you.

But then, one night, he actually let me open a book and talk about a few pages. And, soon he began letting me read part of the book. And before long we were reading (an entire book) every night before bed.

Tonight I had to tell him that I couldn't read to him. I've been sick, have very little voice left, and if I talk too long, I cough ... a lot.

When I explained to him that Mommy couldn't read to him tonight, he looked at me and said "I read to you."

He took his book, pointed to various pictures, telling me about the bears and the water and the flowers. And, there was lots of growling (because of the bear.)

After a few kisses and snuggles, I left his room glad that he has learned to love books -- and thankful that tonight he shared that love of books with me.

This post is linked to Tuesdays Unwrapped, a weekly blogging event hosted by Emily

at Chatting at the Sky http://www.chattingatthesky.com/. Tuesdays Unwrapped is

about slowing down to enjoy and celebrate the small moments in our lives.

School Days

2009-11-16T21:09:00.001-05:00

I always thought the school part of parenting would be pretty easy.

After all, I was (and usually still am) a quick learner. Granted I haven't been playing Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader? lately, but I made As and Bs with minimal effort (and actually still remember much of what I learned).

But then Ashley came home from her Pre-K program today. They're learning about space exploration.

She quickly rattled off most of the planets (not in order, but still pretty impressive when you consider that she didn't even know about them until today.)

Then she said to me, "Mommy, did you know that scientists discovered that Pluto is not really a planet?"

Now, I didn't miss this news flash the first time it came around, but hearing it today made me think: Being good at helping with the homework depends in part on the world as we knew it not changing. And, of course, that's not really the world works.

So tonight it occurs to me that there is probably much I don't know about the things my daughter will learn as she moves on to school.

While I know the Soviet Union no longer exists, I'm not sure exactly what replaced it other than Russia and a bunch of smaller states. I know we tore down the Berlin Wall, but I'm not sure what that really means in terms of the structure of Germany today. I know there's a European Union and they have a common currency, but I'm not really sure what that means in terms of geopolitical relations in Europe.

I'm sure there are many scientific advances that I'm clueless about. And, I'm guessing there may even be a few new words or grammar exceptions that I might not be quite up on. (Scary since I'm a writer and work with teenagers -- but I suspect it may be true.)

And I fear that I may be the mom who hopelessly confuses my children in math because I'm using some antiquated formula that might as well be some ancient hieroglyphic scribblings.

Oh, well, I guess I'll have to settle for teaching them how to be flexible, learn new stuff, and find their own answers!

Best Friends & Worst Enemies

2009-11-15T23:39:00.001-05:00

This is one of my favorite pictures of my kids.

I always think it looks so sweet and innocent.

What you don't know from looking at the picture is that just moments before the picture was taken, Luke was crying because Ashley pushed him down.

And that's how our day has gone today.

They've hit each other, pushed each other, taken things away from each other and called each other names.

And then, they've played cars together. Ashley helped Luke with an art project. Luke offered to share his water with Ashley.

I actually feel quite lucky. They usually get along better than I would expect. They play together often and the fights, when they occur, are usually short-lived.

I hope it will always be that way -- that despite whatever disagreements may come their way, they will always know that they have each other.

Real Families

2009-11-14T22:48:00.001-05:00

The headline jumped out at me from the trashy tabloid at the grocery store checkout: "First Lady Can't Get Pregnant," and then below the somewhat unflattering picture of Michelle Obama, the subhead: "President and First Lady To Adopt Baby Boy."

It was a reminder that much of the rest of the world views adoptive families as somehow second best, not quite as "real" as families created by birth.

Granted for most of us, adoption was a second choice, made because the traditional "have sex, get pregnant" route didn't quite work out. But second choice is not the same as second rate. And once that choice is made, adoptive families are as real, as loving, as stressed, and as connected as any other family.

But those of us who have chosen adoption are used to offhand comments from family, friends, even strangers (sometimes even the headline writer at the trashy tabloid).

There are the "too bad you couldn't get pregnant/have your own child/had to adopt" comments. I"m not really sure whether I could have gotten pregnant with the right intervention. We chose adoption over in vitro fertilization.

We opted for an emotional roller coast that we knew would result in a baby at the end rather than one that might, or might not, result in a pregnancy. We wanted to parent, and the biology of our child really didn't matter that much to us.

There are times that I am sad not to have had the chance to be pregnant. But it's not those unborn biological children I mourn during those times.

Rather, it's the oppotunity to have had nine months to get to know my children before they came into this world. I miss that I didn't have the chance to be pregnant with Ashley and Luke. (I am not, however, sad to have missed morning sickness, labor, or back aches.)

And then there are all those comments about "real" parents. I know what people mean when they say this, but it is, at heart, a bias that somehow biology trumps all. And, as anyone who has ever been raised by a really great stepparent after having been abandoned by a biological parent can attest, parenting is about much more than just biology.

My children have "real" birthparents and "real" adoptive parents.

From their birthmom, they got their beautiful eyes and lively smiles. Ashley got her long hands and fingers from her birthmother.

Perhaps Luke got his love of music and his sense of rhythm from one of his birthparents. Perhaps they are also responsible for his quirky sense of humor just as Ashley's birthparents may be responsible for her boundless energy and ability to make friends with anyone.

My children's birthparents shaped who they are in real and profound ways.

From their father and me, my children have learned a love of books. From Andy, Ashley has learned to appreciate jazz and swing music. They have learned how to count, the words to countless songs, and how to be gentle with the dogs. They've learned rules and boundaries, and a sense of security in the world.

We have also shaped (and will continue to shape) who they are in real and profound ways.

But at the end of the day, when my children think about "mommy" and "daddy," it is me and and Andy that they think about. And that will always be true.

I don't know what relationship they might someday cultivate with their birthparents. I do know it won't be a parent-child relationship.

I know that because parenting is about who is there when you wake up with a nightmare in the middle of the night. It's about who holds you when you're sick or scared or sad. It's about who cheers you on when you need encouragement and who celebrates your accomplishments with you.

The very difficult and painful choice that my children's birthmother made was to create an adoption plan and let go of that parent-child relationship.

And for that, she is the subject of one of the comments I hate the most: "What kind of person gives up their own child?" Ask yourself this, if you knew in your heart of hearts that your children would be better off with someone else, would you let them go? I'd like to say I'd be able to, but I'm not so sure.

Our children's birthmother -- like most birthmothers -- had many reasons that she felt she couldn't parent in the way she wanted, and in the way that Luke and Ashley deserved, at the times they were born. As a mom, I admire the courage it took for her to say to herself and the world: "it might be better if someone else is able to parent them."

To all those people who would say that we are "saints" for adopting or that our children are "lucky" we were there to adopt them, I'll tell you that neither is true. We are no better or worse than any other parents. Some days we do a pretty good job at this parenting thing, other days we struggle.

And, if anyone is "lucky," it's us -- because Ashley and Luke are a part of our lives.

Or, perhaps, it is our family who is lucky because we love each other and we're there for each other -- just like every other family, whether the bonds of love are created by adoption or by birth.

You can learn more about our adoption story here.

November is National Adoption Month. Learn more about adoption from these great resources:
Adoption.com
Adoptive Families
Adoption Today
National Council for Adoption

Flashback Friday and A Preview of Upcoming Stuff

2009-11-13T21:51:00.001-05:00

Today I'm participating in Flashback Friday, so you're going to be treated to (or subjected to, depending on your viewpoint) one of my older posts.

I'll be back to original posts tomorrow (you may have noticed the significant increase in blog posts this month -- I'm participating in National Blog Posting Month, so my goal is to post every day in November). I attended an adoption conference today and am still thinking about lots of the issues discussed there, but I definitely have the beginnings of several new posts (in honor of National Adoption Month).

Modern Magic (originally posted on August 19, 2008)
My daughter has reached the princess phase – she loves princesses and wands and all the other stuff that goes with storybook royalty.

And so, on Saturday afternoon, we sat down to watch Enchanted, which tells the story of Giselle, a would-be princess banished from storybook land to the real world of New York City. Midway through the movie, the world of princesses, fairy godmothers and magic came face to face with modern consumerism. When Giselle needs to get ready for the ball, she turns not to her fairy godmother, but instead to a credit card.

In a culture where instant gratification is sometimes taken as a right and where wants and needs are often viewed as interchangeable, the swipe of a credit card can indeed seem equivalent to the wave of a fairy godmother’s wand. But I’m not really ready for my daughter to learn about that kind of magic just yet.

I realize that she’s not likely to have understood much about that scene; and even if she did, one scene in one movie isn’t likely to shape her lifelong values. But these messages underlie so much of our culture. After all, Mastercard tells us that credit cards are the key to having all those experiences in life that are “priceless.” And, I do believe that the media subtly influence and shape our views in ways in which we are seldom aware.

And my daughter – like most kids, I suspect – is an eager student of media lessons. At three and a half, she knows about Indiana Jones from the Happy Meals at McDonalds and about Hannah Montana, in part, because of Disney channel commercials she sees while watching preschool programming.

I like Indiana Jones, but it’s not a movie I want my 3½-year-old to be asking about. And, while I’ve never seen Hannah Montana, I understand it’s a relatively benign show – for the preteen set. I don’t begrudge anyone the right to market their products. And, I fully believe that it’s my job as a parent to set the boundaries around what entertainment is and is not acceptable for my children. At the same time, when toys from PG-13 movies make it into Happy Meals and preteen angst invades preschool innocence, it makes that parenting job harder.

I guess I wasn’t quite ready to begin battling cultural messages yet, but for us the challenge has begun. Ashley recently asked for “hair colors like Hannah Montana.” There was no way I was allowing her to dye her hair, but then in the toy section at Walmart, we found Hannah Montana hair color – wands of pink and purple hair color that was reasonably subtle and that combed and washed out easily. Is this the modern version of dress up? Or, is my little girl trying to grow up too fast?

In the end, I bought the Hannah Montana hair color. And Ashley was enthralled with it for a week or so, and has since lost interest. I’m still not sure how I feel about her foray into the world of preteen primping. But, I know this is but the first of many such dilemmas we’ll face – someday it will be clothes, or makeup, or piercings, or the co-ed sleepover that “everyone else’s mother” is letting them go to. I don’t expect the choices will be easy.

Somehow I have to figure out how to balance the knowledge that today’s world is different than the world I grew up in and the belief that some values are timeless. Maybe I’ll wish for a fairy godmother to help me determine the difference.

Holiday Mail For Heroes

2009-11-12T22:52:00.000-05:00

The holiday season has definitely begun with Christmas decorations everywhere.

Both my kids are excited. Ashley is eagerly awaiting a visit from Santa and the chance to open gifts. I think Luke is excited just because he figures anything that excites Ashley this much must be good.

It's fun to watch their excitement, but I'm also looking for ways to help them learn a little bit about what the holidays really mean -- and to give them the opportunity to enjoy the satisfaction of giving to others.

In my email today, I received a message from the Red Cross about their "Holiday Mail for Heroes," an opportunity to send a holiday card to U.S. service members and veterans. I'm thinking this might be a good opportunity for Ashley and I to work on a project.

The program is pretty simple. You send a card (or cards -- up to 15 per person or up to 50 for a school class or business group), address them to Dear Service Member, Family or Veteran, and sign them. I think Ashley might get a real kick out of it.

If you're interested in participating, cards must be received by December 7 and should be mailed to

Holiday Mail for Heroes

P.O. Box 5456

Capitol Heights, MD 20791-5456

Ready for a Nap

2009-11-11T22:23:00.000-05:00

See more great images from other bloggers at Wordless Wednesday.

Respect Is a Two-Way Street

2009-11-10T23:05:00.000-05:00

Ever have one of those "uh-oh" moments?

This morning I had asked Ashley to get dressed a few times. She had told me she was eating breakfast.

Once again, I asked her, "Ashley, are you getting dressed?"

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm eating breakfast?" (And, yes, there was plenty of attitude in that statement.)

"Is that how you talk to grown ups?" I asked her.

She took a breath. "No, it's how grown ups talk to kids." (And, there was no attitude in that statement. It was simply, to her, a statement of fact.)

Uh-oh.

Wish I could say I've never talked to her that way, but I have (and probably with almost as much attitude as she gave me).

I did tell her that I don't think it's okay for grown ups to talk to kids that way either. And I made a mental note to be a little more mindful in how I respond to her -- especially when I'm frustrated.

My Little Dancer

2009-11-09T22:45:00.003-05:00

Luke is my little dancer . . . . full of music in his head . . . . and with almost perfect rhythm.

Here's a sample from our vacation this summer.

Tonight, he began dancing around the living room, and boy, has he gotten even better! Now he's got jumps and twirls.

We tried to record tonight's performance, but it came out pretty dark. (Perhaps we can get him to recreate his efforts in better light.)

When he looked at the recording we made tonight, he giggled and then turned to me and said, "I like me." Now, isn't that the purpose of dancing?

The Little Things

2009-11-08T20:42:00.001-05:00

Each night I begin my children's goodnight routine by asking "What are you thankful for?"

They always come up with an answer, and the simplicity of those answers reminds me how much it really is the little things that matter most.

Luke usually has the same answer: "Popcorn." This isn't a totally random response -- Luke loves popcorn.

Ashley is more thoughtful -- or at least more diverse -- in her replies.

Sometimes it's the type of things you'd expect: "going trick or treating," "my birthday," or "candy."

But, often, the replies are "cooking with you" or "watching Tom and Jerry with Daddy." Yesterday it was "going with Daddy" (because she had spent the day running errands with him). Today it was "snuggling with you when we took a nap."

At this time of year when I struggle with what (and how much) to buy my kids for Christmas, Ashley's responses serve as a good reminder that the things that matter most really are pretty simple: time and attention from her father and me, time spent together, a few minutes when she is reminded that she is special to the people who matter most to her.

Related Posts

Finding Gratitude

An Evening of Beauty

Skipping The Fast Forward Button

2009-11-07T23:49:00.002-05:00

"Can you get rid of the commercials?" Ashley asks the second a commercial interupts Scooby Doo.
Because Ashley is often watching a cartoon that has been recorded on the DVR, it is usually possible to get rid of the commercials. But I have to admit I often have mixed feelings when she makes this request.

On the one hand, I'm not eager for her to be exposed to rampant commercialism. And I've seen far too often how a commercial can instantly create a desire for some toy that she didn't even know existed 30 seconds before.

At the same time, I can't help but think that her desire to fast forward through the commercials is a symptom of a world where we all want what we want NOW, and even a couple of minutes of delayed gratifiction seems an impossible wait.

While patience isn't always something I'm great at, I think it's important. I want my daughter to learn that some things are worth waiting for. (And, okay, perhaps Scooby Doo isn't the greatest example -- but we've got to start somewhere.)

Most importantly, I want my always-on-the-go daughter to learn that it's okay to slow down and take things as they come without always looking ahead for the next great thing.

I do fast forward through the commercials for her most of the time (that dislike of commercialism often wins out), but every now and then, I tell her to just wait until her show comes back on.

I figure it's a start in teaching patience and delayed gratification. I'm not sure she agrees, but she's learning to tolerate it.

Growing Human Potential

2009-11-06T23:53:00.004-05:00

I recently heard parenting defined as the art of growing human potential.

I think it’s a beautiful definition.

And it’s pretty intimidating. In the midst of a two-year-old exploring his growing independence, a feisty and precocious five-year-old, and all the demands of daily life, I’m not sure I’m up to growing human potential.

But whether I feel ready or not, that is the job we parents have. When we do it well, we help our children learn both boundaries and a sense of confidence in their ability to control their world.

I hope I do it well.

When I think about my job as “growing human potential,” it reminds me to be more mindful of what I really hope my children learn from me.

Yes, I want them to learn to put away their toys, use their manners, and to not torture one another. But more importantly, I want them to learn to be good people.

I hope they learn – by my words, but more so by my actions – to value and respect all people, even those with whom they disagree, even those whom they dislike.

I hope I teach my children to solve problems and to negotiate the complexity of human relationships.

I hope I give them a foundation of values and security while also giving them the self-confidence and critical thinking skills to learn to make up their own minds.

I hope I nurture their souls so they have the opportunity and the courage to find the things in life that bring them joy, that inspire them. (And I hope I get out of their way and let them follow those things – even if I don’t always understand them.)

But most importantly, I hope I teach them that success in life – real, long-lasting success – is not about what you are, but rather about who you are.

This post shared on Your Life, Your Blog.

Underwater Exploring

2009-11-05T23:04:00.003-05:00

No photo editing here . . . .

just a really neat fish tank

at the Echo Lake Aquarium and Science Center.

We spent a couple of hours exploring

wind & water,

earth & space,

fish & frogs

(and, yes, turtles, too).

For more great photos, visit:

We Love Scooby Doo....and Daphne too

2009-11-04T21:34:00.001-05:00

See more great images from other bloggers at Wordless Wednesday.

An Evening Of Beauty

2009-11-03T23:10:00.002-05:00

I got invited to have an evening of beauty tonight -- well actually, it was a few moments of beauty, but it was still a treat of sorts.

I went upstairs before starting dinner to check on Ashley. She invited me to sit on her bed, telling me "I'll make you beautiful, Mommy."

I pushed aside my mental to-do list and sat down -- after all, it's pretty hard to resist the promise that someone will make you beautiful after a long day at work.

So we sat on her bed and she brushed my hair, telling me "I'm going to be careful like you are with me Mommy. I'll try not to pull." And then she arranged my hair into a variety of -- shall we say eclectic -- hair styles.

While I'm still a fan of the spa and hair salon, I think I would have to say that a 5-year-old's pampering can be pretty good, too.

This post is linked to Tuesdays Unwrapped, a weekly blogging event

hosted by Emily at Chatting at the Sky. Tuesdays Unwrapped is about

slowing down to enjoy and celebrate the small moments in our lives.

A Better Mousetrap?

2009-11-02T23:29:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you really have to admire 5-year-old ingenuity and problem solving.

Last night, both my kids were having a difficult time going to sleep. (Perhaps they indulged in a bit too much of their Halloween treasure?) There was much giggling and playing and several trips out of their room.

Finally, about two hours after bedtime, my daughter decided there was a mouse in her room.

She told me it was inside the heat registers along her wall. She knew this because she could hear it inside.

I told her there was no mouse and to go back to bed.

She insisted that she could hear the mouse.

I told her she was hearing the noise the heater makes when the furnace kicks in.

She insisted that it was a mouse and that she knew the difference between the heater noise and a mouse.

(I suppose I should acknowledge that I am perhaps at least partially responsible for her mouse fixation. When she sneaks food into her room, I have been known to tell her that mice will come into her room. . . . Perhaps I'll rethink that strategy.)

After several minutes of the mouse discussion, I used my "I-mean-business-missy" voice and told her to get back to her room and forget about the mouse.

About half an hour later, there was still noise and activity in their bedroom.

I went upstairs to check what was going on, only to discover that she and her brother had made a barrier along the heat register using whatever they could find -- toys, books, blankets, stuffed animals. All this was now laying across the heat registers.

Ashley proudly informed me that now they could be sure the mouse stayed inside and didn't get out into their room.

Yes, 5-year-old ingenuity is sometimes impressive.

Of course, now I have to figure out how to explain to her that creating a barrier over the heat register probably poses a fire hazard, not to mention defeats the purpose of having a heater during cold New England nights.

Wonder how she'll address that problem?

Finding Gratitude

2009-11-01T23:58:00.004-05:00

The kids and I stopped at a local diner for lunch yesterday. Midway through our meal, a group of older women sat in the booth behind us.

Soon after they sat down, one said, “It’s so noisy in here. Everywhere we go it’s always so noisy.”

Another replied, “Well, thank God. At least we can still hear.”

I couldn’t help but think how that is the fundamental choice that all of us have – to complain about the noise, or to be thankful that we can hear it.

That’s certainly not to say that there aren’t times in our lives when things go wrong, but I suspect there are many times when the things we complain about are really a matter of perspective.

Several months ago, I added a simple question to my children’s bedtime routine: “What are you thankful for?” My daughter usually comes up with something from the day that she is particularly happy about. My son has a standard answer: “Popcorn.”

It’s not so much the answers I care about as much as teaching my children that in all of our lives, no matter how hard the day might have been, there is something for which we can be grateful.

I want them to learn to see the half full glass, to be thankful that they can still hear rather than to complain about the noise.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’m always so good at following that myself. I know there are times – especially when life seems too busy, our obligations too many, and my coping skills too few – that I complain about the things that irritate me rather than celebrate the things that bring me joy.

November seems a good month to focus on the things that bring me joy, to take a few moments to name those things for which I’m thankful.

So today I’m asking myself the same question I ask my children daily – what am I thankful for? Today – it’s for beautiful fall weather, which we’ve had a lot of recently, and for the fact that we were ending trick or treating, and not beginning it, last night when the light drizzle turned into a downpour. Yes, we were wet by the time we made it back to the car, but at least the kids got to enjoy their Halloween.

What about you? How often do you complain about the noise rather than celebrate the fact you can hear? What brings you joy – even for a moment – in the busyness of your life?

This entry is shared on

Celebrating Five

2009-10-16T00:59:00.001-04:00

How did she go from this

to this?

Five years sounds like a long time . . . . but it doesn't seem like such a long time when you're busy living it.

We've had five years of snuggles and hugs, exuberant joyfulness, boundless curiousity. Five years of knowing Ashley in all her complexity and intensity. Five years of gratitude to her birthmother who honored us with the opportunity to parent her.

And I have to admit there are moments of budding maturity -- like when she offers to help out around the house or when she tries to teach her brother something new. The night before her birthday, she got up afer everyone was in bed and went looking for her birthday presents. She found them, but resisted the temptation to open any of them early (something I know wouldn't have happened a year ago). She's learning to control her temper a bit better. She's learning to negotiate. She is growing up.

We're celebrating five this week . . . .

. . . . . and wondering what the next five years will bring.

My Little Helpers

2009-10-06T23:21:00.004-04:00

No, I didn't make them wash the dishes . . . Ashley volunteered . . . and Luke decided to join her

What do you think the chances are that they'll do this when they're older and it's actually an assigned chore?

(Yea, I'm not holding my breath for that either! LOL)

An Inspiring Group of Moms

2009-10-04T22:47:00.004-04:00

I don't often get to talk about my job. After all, part of being a mental health counselor is respecting the confidentiality of information clients share. But today, I want to share a bit about an amazing group of women I work with.

I'm the therapist for a program that works with young mothers (in their teens and early 20s) to help them develop the skills and resources they need to provide for themselves and their children. The program provides education (both for high school diplomas or GEDs and for college or technical training programs), job training, group and individual therapy, parenting education, workshops in life skills and wellness topics, and lots of support to help these women overcome the barriers they face.

Most of the participants in our program live in poverty -- and most of them come from generations of poverty. Many, many of them have experienced some type of abuse or neglect or were exposed to domestic violence or parental substance use as children. Some of them struggle with their own substance abuse issues, and others have themselves been victims of domestic violence.

In short, they have many challenges and many barriers as they work to become self sufficient young women and competent, confident parents -- as if being a parent (especially a young one) isn't challenging enough on its own.

They come to our program looking for tools to help them change the future for themselves and their children. They are often inspired by their children, and their desire to give their children a different life than the one they have known. I'm inspired as I watch how hard they work, and I'm often humbled by their courage in confronting the barriers in their lives.

I share all of this because we have started a blog in the program. You'll find it at http://www.familieslearningtogether.net/, and I hope you'll click over and visit -- and come back often. The participants are just getting into the swing of blogging, and I know they'd love to have some followers and commenters.

I think you'll find their journey over the course of the next few months truly inspiring.

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Lessons From September 11, Then and Now

2009-09-12T02:22:00.020-04:00

Friday morning began cool, crisp and sunny – a fall morning much like September 11 eight years ago.

And like that fall morning eight years ago, the day began in a fairly ordinary way. In our house, that meant the usual chaos of getting out the door – lots of dawdling, some fights between the kids. And, I was not the most patient mom – in fact, I was pretty irritated at one point.

Then, on the way to drop my kids at daycare, I heard a Story Corps segment on NPR.

A father who lost two sons on September 11 was recounting memories of his children. He had talked to one son on the evening of September 10 and the other on the morning of September 11. Both conversations ended with him telling his sons he loved them, and them replying that they loved him.

And, that made our crazy morning somehow seem unimportant. Even the morning’s backseat competition of who could say “you’re stupid” more times before we reached daycare somehow seemed less irritating.

I always tell my children that I love them when I leave them, but sometimes – especially on frenzied mornings like today – the “I love you” is a bit distracted, a tad too quick.

In the days following the September 11 attacks, I heard a radio commentator remark on the fact that many people on those four planes picked up cell phones to call a parent, a child, a spouse just to say “I love you.”

The commentator observed that when everything is said and done, in the last moments of our life, that’s what matters. It isn’t about how much money you made, or the kind of car you drove, or what your job was. What matters are the people we love and the people who love us.

That was one of the lessons we learned eight years ago when that ordinary fall morning turned out to be anything but ordinary. And, it’s one we need to be reminded of every now and then.

I hugged my kids a little tighter when I left them at day care, lingered a little longer over my goodbyes. Because in the end, that is what matters most of all.

This post is shared on (in)courage.

This post is shared on Real Life's "Your Life Your Blog"

A Day At The Fair

2009-09-06T23:52:00.009-04:00

It's definitely beginning to seem like fall here in New England.

Cool nights.

A few red and orange leaves appearing on the trees.

And fairs,

With lots of animals,

and rides

And, best of all, fair food!!

(Yes, it's almost as big as he is . . . and he quickly claimed it for himself!)

I Can't Believe I Said That!

2009-08-30T22:35:00.010-04:00

"I don't want to talk about your book. I want to talk about pee pee."

Yes, I actually said this to my two-year-old. I was trying to inquire about whether he needed to go to the bathroom, and he was concerned about where he had left his book.

I'm glad that he's interested in books (especially since his interest is pretty new -- but that's another post). No matter how much I want to encourage a love of reading, books really are not the topic I want to be discussing when he's sitting on the toilet and I'm trying to decide whether it's safe to put his pants back on!

Anyway, this is probably at the top of the "things I never thought I'd say" list. I'm pretty sure most parents have one of these. You know, it's those things that come out of your mouth when you're dealing with your kids that -- before kids -- you would never have dreamed you'd ever say.

Here are some other entries on ours:

* "The dog knows how to drink. She doesn't need a demonstration." Luke likes to drink out of the dog's water bowls -- just like he's a dog. Not one of my prouder mommy moments, and it probably doesn't bode well for a scholarship to Harvard.

* "Tampons do not belong on the Christmas tree!" My daughter went through a period where she was fascinated -- maybe even a bit obsessed -- with tampons. And so, the Christmas after she turned two, she spent a great deal of time opening tampons and hanging them on the Christmas tree. (After all, they do have that handy-dandy string!) Later that same winter, my husband came downstairs one evening to find that she had opened all the tampons in a nearly full box and piled them in front of the fireplace. She informed him that she was cold and so she had gotten all the "little sticks" so he could make a fire.

* "Your sister's face is not a road." This was my husband's attempt to explain to Luke why it is not okay to run his toy car over his sister's face while she's laying on the floor watching television.

* "Only boys have penises." This was a frequent discussion in our home for quite a while after Luke came along. For a while, Ashley argued fiercely that she had had a penis when she was a baby. After many explanations of the difference between boys and girls, Ashley finally caught on and then would say to me anytime she saw Luke without a diaper, "only boys have penises, right Mommy?" And then one day, she decided to impress her father (and much of the grocery store) with her newfound knowledge by stating, very loudly, "Daddy, did you know that only boys have penises?" (That prompted a "why do you tell her these things?" look from my husband and many chuckles from the people in the aisle with us -- they must all have had kids, too.)

* "You don't need to cook your crayons." This has been said more than once -- when Ashley thought the toaster, and then the microwave, and later the toaster oven might be good places to store her crayons. (Thankfully all discovered before anything was turned on.)

* "No, Curious George is not coming to live in our house." When we asked Ashley what she would think about having a baby brother or a baby sister, she promptly replied, "I want Curious George." I tried to explain that a monkey was not coming to live in our house, but that a baby brother or sister probably was. She continued to insist for quite a while that she wanted Curious George -- although she did eventually decide that a baby brother might be okay. It depends on the day now whether she would still agree that having a baby brother is a good thing.

* "Yes, you will wear panties to school!" My daughter -- not even 5 yet -- decided one day that she didn't need her panties because she had pants on. And, she informed me that her preschool teacher didn't care whether she wore panties as long as no one could see her butt. I'm guessing this conversation was only in Ashley's little brain, but rather than argue that point, I informed her that I cared and she was far too young to go without underwear.

I know -- or at least hope -- I'm not the only one with the list of things I can't believe I said. Feel free to share some of yours!

This post is shared on Real Life's "Your Life Your Blog"

Attack of the Yellow Fuzzies

The Start of the Hard Questions

2009-08-16T23:30:00.002-04:00

My daughter has apparently been thinking a lot about her birth mother.

She’s asked several times recently for “my story,” which is the adoption story I’ve been telling her since she was about a year old.

Ashley has always been incredibly interested in her own adoption story. She’s still too young to really understand what adoption is all about. But sometimes I wonder if there is a part of her that knows, almost instinctively, that as much as she belongs to me, she also belongs to Chivon, her birth mom.

There was a period of time, starting just before she turned two, when almost every night she asked for “Ashley’s story” or “my ‘doption story.” And then she took a break and didn’t ask much about it – until we were waiting for her brother to be born. And then, again, almost every night she asked for her story – and her brother’s story.

Once her brother was born and home with us, she stopped being quite so interested in their stories, asking only occasionally.

But the last couple of weeks, she’s asked several times to hear her story, and Luke’s. I find it amazing how the two stories always seem linked in her mind – almost as if she knows that somehow she and Luke share the bond of another family.

Today she asked again, “Mommy, can you tell me my story and Luke’s story.”

And, so I began, as I have so many times before, “You were growing in your birth mommy’s tummy, and she couldn’t take care of a baby, so she needed someone to take care of you. And Mommy can’t grow a baby in her tummy, so Mommy and Daddy were looking for a baby to take care of.”

And then, Ashley interrupted with the question that I always knew would come one day: “Mommy, how come my birth mommy couldn’t take care of a baby?”

Oh, how to explain that to a 5 year old? There are many reasons, of course. And some are things a 5-year-old would not understand. I do remember one time her birth mom saying to me, “If she ever asks me why I did it, I will tell her ‘because it was the best thing I could do for you.’”But how to condense all the reasons I know to something that would make sense to a 5 year old, and let her know that this was a decision made out of love?

I settled for: “There were lots of things that were kind of hard for her when you were born, and she didn’t have lots of money or some of the other things that she would need to take care of a baby.” I’m not sure that’s the best answer in the world, but for the moment it seemed to satisfy Ashley.

We’re going to work on writing a letter to her birth mom. Ashley is going to draw her a picture. And, I’m going to start working on answers to all those hard questions that I know are going to be coming as Ashley grows older.

(More about our adoption experience can be found at: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1426611/the_child_youre_supposed_to_have_an.html?cat=25)

Mornings With a Toddler . . . Or, How You Know It's Time To Start Potty Training

2009-08-12T21:37:00.003-04:00

This was our morning:

Ashley was in the kitchen getting cereal for breakfast (her latest favorite "big girl" task) when she suddenly said to her father, "Daddy, come look at what your son just did!"

Andy went into the kitchen to find that at some point, Luke had removed his diaper and then put his pajama shorts back on. He was now standing in the kitchen, shirt tucked into his shorts, one leg of the pajama shorts pulled up, his penis hanging out, in front of a puddle on the kitchen floor. When Andy walked in, Luke pointed and proudly proclaimed, "I do that!" Yep, he had peed on the kitchen floor.

As Andy was cleaning up the floor, Ashley looked over and said, "That was good telling, wasn't it Daddy." (She's been getting lots of lessons lately about tattling.)

I got a new diaper and as I was putting it on Luke, I asked "where's the diaper you had on last night?"

He looked at me and simply said, "It didn't stay on."

"And why didn't it stay on?" I asked.

He looked at me, and then said, "Oh, no, Lucas did that."

Guess it's time to start potty training!

Online Lessons For Parents

2009-08-11T00:11:00.002-04:00

I think I'm fairly technically literate.

I've figured out the blogging thing and am becoming somewhat adept at Facebook. I'm even playing a bit with Twitter, which is kind of fun.

But I'm very aware that it's likely my children will far outpace me in their understanding of the online world and social networking. The world of social media is second nature to kids and they're technically savvy at a very young age.

My kids are still too young for the online world, but I do sometimes wonder about how I'll handle it when they do make their online debuts. How will I monitor without being too nosy? How will I give them some freedom but keep them safe?

This blog entry -- Are Parents Clueless? -- and the study to which it refers are thought provoking and a good lesson in making sure we parents aren't too naive about the online world.

Stretching My Wings

2009-08-11T00:05:00.003-04:00

Okay, this post has nothing really to do with being a mom. But I thought I'd try my hand at writing Flash Fiction. It was fun exercise and I kind of like it, so I thought I'd share it.

Saying Goodbye
A surprising letter triggers memories of a past relationship.
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/2047201/saying_goodbye.html

Healthy Brown Bag Lunches

2009-08-02T23:48:00.002-04:00

How to Build Healthy Brown Bag Lunches for Your Kids
With a little creativity, you can create brown bag lunches that will make your kids eager to eat a healthy lunch.
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/2016148/how_to_build_healthy_brown_bag_lunches.html

Sometimes You Miss Home . . . And Then Sometimes Not

2009-07-31T22:35:00.004-04:00

My stepmom just emailed this to me.

You know you are in Texas when...

The birds have to use potholders to pull worms out of the ground.
The trees are whistling for the dogs.
The best parking place is determined by shade instead of distance.
Hot water now comes out of both taps.
You can make sun tea instantly.
You learn that a seat belt buckle makes a pretty good branding iron.
The temperature drops below 95 degrees and you feel a little chilly.
You discover that it only takes two fingers to steer your car.
You discover that you can get sunburned through your car window.
You actually burn your hand opening the car door.
You break into a sweat the instant you step outside at 7:30 a.m.
At 1 a.m., the heat index has dropped to 94 degrees.
Your biggest bicycle wreck fear is, "What if I get knocked out and end up lying on the pavement and cook to death?"
You realize that asphalt has a liquid state.
The potatoes cook underground, so all you have to do is pull one out and add butter, salt and pepper.
Farmers are feeding their chickens crushed ice to keep them from laying boiled eggs.
The cows are giving evaporated milk.

I remember some of those summer days in Texas. There are so many times I miss being in Texas, but these are not some of the things I miss!

It's been "hot" (at least by New Hampshire standards) here this week, but this puts our summer heat in a whole new perspective. It's cool at night (not still near 100). I don't have to rull down the windows and turn up the ac full blast to be able to breath when I get in the car. And even though it's hot, it's still pretty pleasant to be outside. .... Those have to be on the list of some of the things I love about New England!

The Experiment Results? Some Good, Some Bad, and A Few Lessons Learned

2009-07-27T23:47:00.006-04:00

So here I am a week after my battle picking experiment with Ashley. I think I'd probably give myself a B- on my efforts -- I did pick fewer battles, although sometimes I was headed toward a battle before I stopped and thought about whether it was really important (old habits die hard).

And, of course, once I found myself unintentionally headed for a battle, there's the question of how to gracefully disengage without suggesting to Ashley that a tantrum is somehow effective.

I picked the week that we were on vacation. Not sure if that helped (as in, at least we don't know these people if she's acting goofy) or hurt (as in, she's already hyped up, I better make sure she doesn't get any more hyper or we'll be in trouble.) I suspect it was probably a mix of both.

But I did manage to give her a bit more leeway. She was able to climb and swing on the bars while we waited in line for rides at the amusement park (provided she wasn't too hyper and didn't encroach upon the space of people around us.)

I let her run and jump inside a little more than I usually do. I ignored her extra loud singing in the car (at least until I could no longer concentrate on driving). I let her walk without holding my hand as long as the crowds weren't too big and she stayed reasonably close.

And, in general, I tried to say "no" and "stop" less often.

I'm not sure it changed her behavior significantly. But I think it did decrease the number of battles we engaged in. And, sometimes, that helped decrease my stress level. (Other times -- like when she was singing at the top of her lungs in the car, I was simply gritting my teeth. I'm not sure whether tolerating it was less stressful than battling about it, or not.)

What did I learn?

That sometimes letting Ashley expend her exhaustive supply of energy without my need to reign it in is good for both of us.

That letting Ashley be a little hyper does not always lead to out of control behavior. (Sometimes it does, and I need to get better at reading the cues that let me know which is which, so that I control her energy when it is headed into an out-of-control spiral, and tolerate it when it is not.)

That my stress about Ashley's spirited intensity is often more about me and my responses than it is about her and her energy. (Something I probably always knew deep down.)

An Experiment in Picking Battles

2009-07-19T23:06:00.009-04:00

Sometimes when I listen to myself talk to Ashley, I cringe.

It seems I'm often telling her not to do something or telling her that if she does that one more time, she will (take your pick -- lose TV time, have a time out, go to bed early, go to her room, etc., etc.).

I know why it happens. Ashley is my intense child.

There are good parts about that. She absoultely loves almost any activity, and she throws herself into activities completely. She is fearless. She has an absolute sense of confidence and determination. This is the child whose favorite job at preschool is line leader -- because, as she explains, "I like to lead." And sometimes I think she could run a small country.

But there are also frustrating parts. She is stubborn. When Ashley draws her line in the sand, she is determined that the line is not moving, no matter what. When she's mad or frustrated, she's loud and oppositional and can still throw tantrums that rival those of any two-year-old. And her energy level is always super high -- which is often exhausting for me.

I'm probably more tempermentally suited to my son, who is more reserved, somewhat cautious, and, even at two, mostly a play-by-the-rules kind of guy.

But I don't want to be the kind of mom who is so often nagging, or even worse, yelling. It's frustrating for me, and I often wonder if Ashley goes through life thinking she's always in trouble. (And as exhausting as her intensity often is, I don't want to discourage all the positives that come with it.)

So, I'm trying an experiment this week.

I'm backing off. Aside from issues of safety, protection of property, and basic respect, I'm going to give her a little more leeway and try very hard (it will be an effort) to restrain myself from nagging, yelling or saying "don't." I'm thinking of it as the ultimate "picking your battles" exercise.

Not sure whether I'll feel totally out of control by the end of the week, or whether I'll feel more relaxed. Stay tuned for the results.

Letting Maturity Blossom

2009-07-15T23:39:00.004-04:00

I’m often amazed at how my children’s growing maturity sneaks up on me.

Sometimes it’s about developmental milestones – like realizing that Luke is getting really good at stringing together words and sentences to communicate what he wants, something that seems to have blossomed just in the last few weeks.

Other times, it’s an indication that they are just a little more grown up, a little more capable than I’m giving them credit for.

A couple of weeks ago, Ashley was sent upstairs with instructions to clean her room. She’d never done it unsupervised (or without significant help from me), so I wasn’t expecting a great job. (In fact, if I’m really honest, I was just hoping that she wouldn’t somehow make it worse before I made my way upstairs to help.)

So I was quite surprised when after about 15 minutes, she called downstairs to tell me I should come look at what she had done.

I was even more surprised to discover that she had done quite a good job (and in only 15 minutes – quite a feat for my often highly distractible child!)

Of course I told her what a great job she had done.

And then I caught myself.

While I was saying to her, “Wow, you did a really terrific job picking everything up off the floor and putting it in its place!”, what I was thinking was it’s a pretty good job except…..except for the books that were all in the bookshelf, just not as neatly as I could have done it … except for the stuffed animals that were on their shelves, but not quite as orderly as I would have done it….except for the toys that were put up, but in a different place than I usually put them.

Where did all that come from?

She’s still a few months away from being 5 – she did an awesome job. And, it is, after all, her room.

Then I thought about times when I have “helped” her with a project, sometimes doing a little too much of it (despite her protests) because I wanted to make sure it was done “right.” And I know better – not only do I take away her sense of accomplishment, but I also take away the chance for her to learn.

I walked out of her room that day and resisted the urge to straighten the books, rearrange the stuffed animals, or move toys to a different location. Instead I gave her a hug, and told her how proud I was of her.

My reward? A few days later, she was sent to her room after one too many sassy remarks. After a few minutes of screaming about needing to come downstairs, she settled down – and cleaned her room.

Yes, sometimes their growing maturity sneaks up on me – especially if I give it room to blossom.

Watching My Baby Grow Up

2009-07-05T23:49:00.016-04:00

My "baby" turned 2 today.

Hard to believe.

It seems that just yesterday, we were meeting each other for the first time. And now, he’s gone from tiny baby

and cute little bundle of smiles

to a snuggly little guy

with his own personality,

sense of comedic timing,

and talent.

He was the “surprise” baby – the one we weren’t expecting, hoping for, waiting to hold even before he was conceived. And yet, he worked his way into our lives so quickly, and so completely.

The first time I held him, I fell in love instantly. It was a quiet and comfortable love – not the intense, yearning love I felt for Ashley. (Interesting how my initial responses to both my children echo their own personalities – Luke calm and restrained, Ashley intense and passionate about every aspect of life.)

And now, two years later, I’m often surprised at how powerful that quiet, calm kind of love can be. He can tug at my heart as intensely as Ashley ever has. I can think of few things I love more than the times he nestles up against me and says “’Nuggle, Mommy, ’nuggle.”

Today as we celebrate his birthday, I find myself torn between enjoying the little person he is becoming and wishing that time would slow down just a little – for a few more cuddles and snuggles and little more time before my baby gets too much bigger.

What's Your Parenting Style

2009-05-28T21:42:00.000-04:00

This is kind of fun . . . see where you come out!

Our Worst Fear

2009-05-28T00:05:00.002-04:00

“The 4-year-old daughter of former heavyweight boxing champion Mike Tyson died Tuesday, a day after she was injured in a treadmill accident in her home, police in Phoenix, Arizona, said.

-- CNN

News of the death of Mike Tyson’s young daughter is a sad reminder of our vulnerability as parents. Once you become a parent, news of the death of a child is never again simply sad or tragic; it becomes personal – a reason to hug our children extra tight or give them an extra kiss at bedtime.

I’ve laughed with friends about how the first time our children slept through the night, we woke suddenly and immediately checked to make sure they were still breathing. And we’ve recounted the stories of how the first few times we had our firstborns alone with us in the car, we stopped a few times to check because they were too quiet, and we wanted to make sure they were okay. We laugh at our fears – but deep down, we know we’re vulnerable.

About a month before Ashley was born, a coworker’s 5-week old baby died of SIDS. In the first few weeks after Ashley’s birth, I was constantly on guard. When she breathed too quietly, I would lay my hand on her chest to make sure she was indeed breathing – unfortunately sometimes jostling her slightly and invoking the baby startle response. (Luke is lucky to be the second one. I was still worried about him – but I was better at checking to ensure he was breathing without actually disturbing him in the process.) And the fear of SIDS haunted me at least until Ashley’s first birthday. And, even now, if the kids sleep in just a little too long, I have a moment of worry.

Many of us in hearing of the death of Tyson’s daughter will say “I can’t imagine,” but the truth is that, as parents, we can imagine because it taps into one of our deepest fears – that something unbelievably horrible will happen to one of our children. And, so tonight, as I gave Ashley and Luke an extra kiss before bed, I said my own little prayer that they would stay safe, tonight and always.

The First Crush

2009-05-18T00:44:00.001-04:00

“Colby will think I am soooo beautiful today,” Ashley tells me on the way to preschool. When I ask who Colby is, she replies (in that “jeez,-don’t-you-know-anything-mom” tone of voice), “My friend.”

On this particular morning, Ashley has taken great care with her hair, using practically every hair clip she owns to create quite a unique hairstyle. When I ask if Colby is the reason she spent so much time on her hair, she replies “Yes,” (in a “well, of course” tone that I imagine was likely accompanied by some kind of eye rolling).

Oh, my little girl is growing up!

I think her first crush is cute, but I can’t help but wonder, where is it that she has learned that the way you attract boys is by being “beautiful” – not smart, not funny, not kind, but beautiful. I know I tell her often that she’s pretty, but I hope I also tell her that she is smart and thoughtful and creative. I hope I instill in her the belief that she has a lot to offer boys – and that she won’t let herself be shortchanged only by focusing on the “beauty” part.

While I hope she will know that beauty isn’t the most important criteria by which to measure her self worth, I must admit I love the absolute self confidence she has. She is positive that she is beautiful. She isn’t asking my opinion or hoping that Colby will approve of her “look.” She is absolutely certain that she is beautiful, and that Colby will, of course, recognize that.

I am sure that someday she’ll be somewhat less confident. But I hope that on more days than not, she holds on to a sense of that unwavering self confidence that needs no affirmation from anyone else.

Reflections on Mother's Day

2009-05-11T00:08:00.001-04:00

Ashley has been excited for Mother’s Day to arrive since last weekend when she went shopping with her father for Mother’s Day gifts. This is the first year that she has really had an idea of what Mother’s Day is all about.

Ashley began the morning by asking if today was Mother’s Day (a question I’ve been answering since Monday) and then shouted “Happy Mother’s Day!” when I told her that, yes, today was finally Mother’s Day. She made breakfast (toast) “all by herself” (with a little supervision from Andy) and then happily showed me the necklace she had selected during their shopping excursion last week. (Of course, I later learned that she “really, really liked” the necklace and would be happy to wear it when I wasn’t.)

Luke still doesn’t understand much about Mother’s Day, but he’s in a rather cuddly phase regardless, so I’ve been treated to plenty of “I love you, Mommy” and requests for snuggles (“Nuggle, Mommy”), which are always heartwarming.

And today, like the other Mother’s Days I’ve celebrated since becoming a mother, I think about my children’s birthmother. My chance for the joy of motherhood came about because of her difficult and brave decision to make adoption plans for children she felt unable to parent in the way she felt they deserved. So today, while I send good wishes her way, I also stop and wonder whether I live up to the hopes and trust she placed in me when she allowed me the privilege of mothering her birth children.

I suspect I’m not the only mother who often wonders whether I do “good enough” for my children. I know I’m pretty good at the basics – after all, as a therapist working with children and families, I know about child development and I’m often working with parents on discipline strategies. I know we have good limits and boundaries and schedules – and that we’re generally consistent at enforcing them. I know that we provide Ashley and Luke with the right kinds of stimulation and lots of family time.

But there’s always that nagging question – beyond the basics, am I good enough? Do I spend enough time with them? Do I yell a tad too much? Do I remember to tell them often enough about the good things they do? (I especially ask myself that question on those particularly challenging days with Ashley.)

I wonder if they will grow up knowing that I really like them in addition to loving them. And, I wonder if they will like me when they grow up. Will they call and visit out of a sense of devotion – or because they really want to?

I was also reminded today of the origins of Mother’s Day – which was not about cards or gifts or our individual relationships with our children. Mother’s Day has its beginnings in a proclamation by Julia Ward Howe, who was passionate about peace and equality. After working with widows and orphans of Civil War soldiers, she saw first hand the devastation of war, and so in 1870, she issued a call for women to come together to work for peaceful resolution to conflicts.

Here is the text of her proclamation:

Arise, then, women of this day. Arise all women who have hearts, whether your baptism be that of water or of tears. Say firmly, we will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs. From the bosom of a devastated earth, a voice goes out with our own. It says, “Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet first as women to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them solemnly take counsel with each other, as the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each bearing after her own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God. In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women without limit of nationality, may be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient and the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.

Julia Ward Howe did not live to see Mother’s Day declared an official holiday (which happened in 1914, four years after her death). I’m not sure what she would think about our current celebration, which is far from her idea of a “Mother’s Day for Peace.” But, her message that we as women can join together to work toward change in our world is still an important one.

I do know that as a mother, I am more passionate about issues of social justice than I was before having children. Part of that, I think, is the realization that I would like some things to be different about the world my children grow up in. And, part of it is the desire to show my children that even ordinary people can be a voice for change.

While I believe it’s important that I be active and involved in issues that face the larger world, I also believe that many changes begin much closer to home. Peace and justice are worldwide issues, but they are also neighborhood issues, and even family issues. After all, I can’t very well advocate for peace and tolerance in the world at large if I can’t be tolerant and model peaceful problem solving in my own home.

I’m reminded of a quote from Mahatma Ghandi – “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” So, in the end, peace and justice and equality are as much about how we treat those around us (including the little people who live in our houses) as they are about how we interact with the world at large.

Mother of the Year

2009-05-10T19:23:00.001-04:00

Here's a fun link:

http://news.cnnbcvideo.com/?nid=i7eZURpnbgQH8mmPc86Fxzc2MjgzNjY-&referred_by=16246535-VIJwiVx&p=usat

This is one someone sent to me (I'm really not being vain, here!). You can customize it for someone you think deserves the honor -- or even for yourself!

Future Spokesmodels?

2009-03-31T11:02:00.001-04:00

Wonder if AFLAC would like new "stars" for their ads?