One Down

Well as we are having difficulty getting the schedules of three surgeons lined up (what like they are busy or something?), we are going ahead with one of  the procedures.
Sept 30th is the date set for Liam's tubes. The ENT doesn't want him to head into the colder weather with the fluid on his ears so, there it is.
Suddenly it's all becoming real.

Strangely, I am not freaking out.

Baseball

On Friday night we took the kids to an Indians game- I love night games.
It was Liam's first baseball game and his first real big outing. He loved it.
I can't say that he cared so much for the small things moving in a big green field but , he was nutso over the seats, the rain, the snacks and all of the people milling about.
Ev was in heaven and is finally starting to grasp some of the rules and strategies.It was a much needed fun night out.

And yes, that is Liam wearing a girl's ladybug raincoat. I am aware that I might have to apologize often for that as he grows up. What could I do? Last minute tickets, last minute rain, only one possible raincoat option. 

Sorry kid. We'll make you REAL macho by instilling a love of Sci-fi and Science.

I Went and Did It

I have fallen completely, hopelessly, head over heels in love with my son.

Some small but profound shift in things happened some time this week, seemingly in between breaths. One minute we were all still struggling, and in the next, things were easier.

It is difficult to put into words. 

I was here, doing my thing and wondering about attachment and bonding - on all sides. And then I noticed, that I wasn't wondering about it constantly anymore. That suddenly we were just doing the things we do, and having fun and seeing the stress wash away.

Today I feel more optimistic and happy about our futures together. I can see the pieces starting to fall into place. I see him trying, I feel Les trying harder to get it right, I see myself taking more time to get it right. I see Ev being Ev.

It's all good.

Better than last week, not as good as it will be next week. 

It's called progress.

I like progress.

I Was Going to Talk About the Baseball Game

We went out to an Indians game last night. I was going to talk about that and the fun we had even though it was raining off and on a bit.
But let's not.
Let's talk instead about my daughter. The daughter that is so gosh darn stubborn that she makes me want to yank my hair out, re-grow it and yank it out again.
And let's mention that I do love homeschooling but oh my goodness. She can really make me doubt our decision to do it some days.

So we have been working on poem memorization and recital. I know! For a first grader?!?!! Well, this is the part that I am most skeptical and head scratchy about.... but when I read our manual, I get it. It's just the real life practice of it makes me cringe. Mostly because I knew, KNEW it would not go easy with Miss I Ain't Gonna Do Nuthin' You Want.
On Monday we told her about it. Pick a poem, practice it, learn it, then on Friday you can tell it al to us. Oh LORD! You would have thought that we wanted her to eat boiled rat brains. So struggle on Monday
( however, she learned it in about 5 minutes flat).
Some struggle on Tuesday getting her to repeat it. Because she could and did repeat it to me ad nauseum right up until I had the unmitigated gall to request that she do it for her school time.
Wednesday and Thursday- no big issue, she would recite it at will( about 752 times a day).

Today? Well? Today was a horse of a different color. I am here with her and Liam, Les is on Duty. Everyone is tired from being out late at the game. We got right up to the part about having to stand up and recite the poem.
Then all hell broke loose.
" First grade is stupid."  "I do not want to do this " " I am not going to do this" " You can't make me do this" "I will do it if you look away and I can sit down" " Why are you calling Papa?"
All in a whiney and petulant tone that sends my self control right out of the window. But I maintained. I did. I didn't loose it. I just had her stand there and I waited until she was ready to do what I had asked her to do. I did have to call Les for re-inforcement (both so she could see that he and I were on the same page and so that hearing his voice would help me not turn into MonsterMom).
She flatly refused to do it for him as well.
Two hours.
Two hours it took for us to crack that stubborn hide a bit. She never really did it without the whiney tone but hey, I'll take a partial victory.

And what was this horrible awful hellish poem?
Well, she picked it first of all.
And this is what all of the fuss was about:

Fee Fi Fo Fum
I smell the blood of an Englishman.
Be he alive or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make my bread.

Four lines.
Four lines that she could recite back in about 2 read throughs.

It's funny really. The ends she will go to in order to torture us all.
Grinding bones indeed.

Pedicure in the Style of Pollock

We were talking about college with Ev the other day. Well....she was asking questions and we were answering them, that's how you converse with my girl. She listened to all of the answers and then she said "O man I can not wait for College!"
Then Les asked her what she wanted to learn about in college. Her answer floored me! I expected, things like; to be a Doctor, or  something Math-y. What she said was,  "I want to go to learn how to paint like Jackson Pollock"
Yes, she did.
I was never so happy in all my days. ( I  love Pollock's work and was tearful with hapiness when Ev stood in front of one of his paintings, silent and enthralled for about 15 minutes)
You see, I have this fear that she will be a doctor. And no, I do not want that life for my daughter. There, I said it.
So when she mentioned art, I was all over it. Quietly you see. Quiet as a church mouse about my joy. Let's face it, she is so contrary that had I showed my enthusiasm, she would have veered right off the path.
Yesterday, I set her up all Pollock like in the driveway.
But first we watched some You Tube videos of him painting and we talked about his process. I love that literal girl. She sat there, happy for what we were about to do, but worried about all of the rule breaking. What if she got it wrong?
You can not get it wrong I said. Whatever is in you is always right, just have fun and get it out.
Well, let me plan out my piece, she said.
I replied , NO! Look at him paint, he's not thinking he's feeling! watch! There is no time to think, just to paint.
I might get messy.
You better get messy I told her.
But....?
Nope. Let's go. Let's do it.
And she did.
With gusto!
And she didn't think. And everything was exactly right. And she made a colossal mess.
And she didn't have to share it. We kept Rah Rah out of the way and let her go at it.
I swear at one point she was splashing red paint and stomping her foot when the paint hit and she had her face all screwed up.... it was wonderful. She would tilt her head and splash! plop! drip! drizzle!

I am not kidding, afterwards, she was relaxed and glowing.

What to say?

Sometimes during the wait for our adopted children, we parents hit this white noise phase. Nothing new to anyone outside your particular wait. So there will be this lull in blogging and this avoidance in spoken conversation about the whole thing. It happens because each day is a new misery or basket of hope and yet it sounds exactly the same as yesterday's misery or basket of hope and you don't want to be repetitive. Plus, you kind of feel like no one but other adoptive parents can really get what you are saying anyway and most of the time they have said it better and funnier than you.
I have found that I am in one of those phases now. But what's up? I mean the kids here so isn't everything just peachy keen?
Well, the answer to that question is yes and no.
I have this semi-desire to talk about all of the peachy stuff. Then I think, "But that's not the whole picture"
I have this semi-desire to talk about the not so peachy stuff. Then I think, "Why? So it will seem like your dream coming true is just.....tepid?" Or I read some awesomely written blog post by another adoptive Mama and I think "oh hell why do I even bother?"

Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that the word "succinct" sort of gives me a rash. It is nearly impossible for me to give polite, simply worded updates. Nope. Can not do it. I try but it all just gets jumbled up and I stand there blinking and staring and looking kind of silly. Not about my kids and the journey to them and the journeys that we are on with them, right now, every moment, every day.

Yes, It's good,we are over the moon with Liam. I mean, have you seen that kid? He's about as cute and cuddly and social as they come.

No, it's not good. At least it's not great. Yet. Let me say that one again ....YET.   It will get there. We will get there. But right now it's just grinding, this work of getting to know him, of settling into this life together. I am sure he looks at us sometimes and he wonders about us and these things we do. 


With Liam you can go entire days and sort of forget that he is hurting. Everything I learned with Ev is right out of the window and I have to let all of that go. I have to see him in a new light. I know that every parent with more than one child has to do this. It's just with adopted kids, you have to be more fierce, more on top, more willing to surrender yourself. MORE MORE MORE. I am not trying to understate the relationship that bio families have but let's face it, most families out there are not dealing with kids that were deeply wounded, abandoned, hungry, lonely and frightened for most, if not all, of their lives. 


And that's how our days go. One step forward, two steps back. Lots of self doubt on the parental front.
Sound like fun?
Well, it is and it ain't.
And that's adoption.
And it also happens to be where we are.
(Deep breath, as whining will commence in 3,2,1....)
Also, we met with the Surgical Team. No surprises, good or bad. I had hoped for, not the best because I have eyes in my head and can see his cleft, but you know, I hoped for fair to middlin'. What we got was shit storm. "Very WIDE Cleft" said the doctor, "bone grafts" said Stooge Number One. Tubes in the ears. Dental surgery murmured Stooge Number Two. I loved the phrase "intensive speech therapy".  And the casual hand toss with the mention of lip revision(S) and rhinoplasty just about did me in. How dare they be so casual about changing that wonderful little face? I sat there with my son on my lap as all of those words fell about us like so much nonsense and my heart broke. Not for me silly, for him. For the pain, for the struggles, I don't know for all of it. And all of it starting before he has it figured out that we LOVE him and we are HERE. I struggled with it because I want the world to see what we see when we look at him, Liam Wayne Ao Zhuang. Just a little boy who will steal your heart if you are not careful.

And no. None of this is news. We did our research. It's just news FOR HIM. There is a checklist of possible procedures that a cleft affected child might possibly need, it all depends on the severity of the cleft and other technical things. Let's just say that Liam's is all checked up. And really who wants that for their child?
And no. I would not rather not do it. I want to help this boy talk and be heard. I want to see him stand up and walk proudly into a bright future.
And yes. I will get over the boo hoo fest about this issue. Any. Freaking. Day. Now.

In summary, we are ok. Sometimes we are good. Sometimes we see shining glimpses of the new us. Sometimes I want to put earplugs in and gorge on chocolate and go comatose for awhile. Sometimes I want to pick up both kids and squeeze them tight and shout to the Heavens , " I love these kids!!!"- oh wait, I actually do that. Evelyn loves it by the way (that was sarcasm). And sometimes I wish that a simple, fervent little prayer would heal my son's mouth- instantly and without pain.
The most telling thing of all is, I think, that sometimes, I am gripped with nearly crippling anxiety at the thought of a life without them in it. Not them being here and then gone, but of never having taken the steps that led me to them.

Once There Was a Nephew

Once there was this baby born to my sister. A complete little person, a stranger, a little wrinkled man.
I had the esteemed pleasure to be the first fellow human to ever lay hands on him. I remember touching his wrinkled feet, they were tiny but too large for his body and he was still damp from residing in that warm place in which he grew.
I rubbed that foot and I said to him " You don't know me and I don't know you but I hope we can be great friends"

And then the process of knowing him began. As a baby, what can be said? He ate, he slept, he grew. And I loved him, almost too much to stand. It was a difficult place in our relationship, for I knew that I would never have a child of my own that tiny and helpless- and oh how he made my heart ache and yearn. 

And then his personality began to emerge. Goofy, funny, smart, stubborn. A real fit for this crowd.

I watched him hit that roly-poly tumbling down toddler age. He was easy with a grin- just a sort of rollicking kind of kid. And he had asthma so I worried about him constantly. I also got to stand by and watch my sister change into a mother.  I loved this boy.

From those deep dark, eyes to that beautiful curly hair, I was, and still am, a goner. I remember his toddles, his falls, his clumsiness. I took to calling him headlong because that's how he approached life and body mechanics- just headlong into it all. Full of jokes and laughs. Easy with people, smiling and charming. But, also a rascal. I saw him throw a fit once that left me confused and baffled and laughing and crying and thinking,  "Oh my Lord what is Melissa ever going to do with this kid?".

And this weekend I looked at him. And I kind of panicked. While I was away he has changed into a kid. Not a toddler or pre-schooler. Not roly-poly anymore. Almost out of his headlong ways of moving. There he was, all golden and brown. Curly hair crowning that head. Laughing and smiling and being concerned and tender for his new cousin. He's playing soccer, he's learning to spell and read. He talks and tells me things about his day. He calls up to talk over a rough day with Evelyn. He is all things boy, rocks and bugs and climbing and sports, cars and airplanes. 

He is Brevin. 

My nephew.

And I simply can not imagine my life without him in it.

I told him once when he was worried about Liam coming, I told him that I loved him. I told him that no matter what, he was the first boy in my heart and that would never change. It won't.

Every time I look at him, I see those floppy baby feet in that hospital warmer and my heart skips and I remember my promise of friendship. Quite possibly the easiest promise of all to keep.

I love you Brev. I am sorry that I have been so busy and tired lately. Could you please slow down your growing a bit? Just until I catch my breath, so I don't miss anything, you see.

This is you at the beginning of this summer.

This is you last week.

See what I mean? Just slow it down a bit buddy, there's plenty of time.