Me Too

I wrote my last blog post after an especially long and hard day. When I went to bed, I kept wondering if it had been a mistake. After all, I had compared Jacob to Lord of the Flies and all three kids to mini terrorists.

The next morning, however, I was surprised at just how many friends had sent messages saying, "me too."

So many of us have days, weeks, months (eeek) that are simply survival. We keep the kids fed, clean(ish), and relatively unharmed. We let the dust bunnies feed on goldfish under the couch and the laundry doesn't always make it to the closet before being worn again. 

I know there are moms out there who do it all. They are stay-at-home moms who also work 60 hour weeks and bring home the bacon, fry it in the pan, get manis and pedis, and have shiny hair and clutter free homes. Then there are the rest of us who realize halfway through the grocery store that our flip flops don't match and our yoga pants are on backwards, but we don't care because the kids are not screaming and Nutella is on sale. Not that we are somehow better for our cluttered, messy lives. It's just reality. We don't get everything done, and we really wish we knew how others manage to do it when we cannot even manage to find our hairbrushes, much less use them.

I still forget after long, hard days of tantrums, fights, and complaints why I want this mom-life. Then I log on to Facebook to escape and see the faces hundreds of children who need a family... Most with moderate to severe medical needs. I see the moms new to the adoption community say, "how do you choose a child when there are so many? I want to help them all." Me too, friend.

But it's not all bad. It's not all hard. That's why I do what I do. It is all worth it to hear Jacob call out, "Sissy awake, too? Play with me," or Ava singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and Adam offering to share his piggy bank money to help less fortunate kids buy toys. 

I lay awake at night dreaming of a children's home filled with children from all over the world who come for care and affection and family. I dream of taking a shower without Jacob yelling, "me too, mom, I want shower." I fantasize about Todd saying, "Ok, one more. I want another, me too." I dream of saying, "I love our family" and hearing a chorus of "me too." I don't want to feel alone in a room full of people who are passionate about Christmas shopping or their new grills. That stuff is great and all, but I long to be surrounded by people who can't sleep at night because there are 143 million orphans and most people just don't care.

Here are just a few of the kids who have my heart.

Gloria:

 

Aslan:

Kurt:

Henry:

Beating a dead horse

Here, struck down by the heat, I fell and the children hurled themselves at me. This dreadful eruption from an unknown world made me frantic; I squealed and bucked and the air was full of sweat and noise and blood and terror […]. The spear moved forward inch by inch and the terrified squealing became a high-pitched scream. Then Jacob found my throat and the hot blood spouted over his hands. I collapsed under them […].

Ok, so maybe it wasn't quite as bad as a scene from The Lord of the Flies, but it was bad. Jacob has reached the full fledged terrible, horrible, no good, very bad twos almost threes. 

Imagine a strong willed child who thrives on doing the very opposite of what you want them to do...and not with malice or vindictiveness, but with joy... a joie de vivre. Ok, now multiply that by three. We have three children with strong personalities, with strong wills. Ok, now add on the fact that Todd and I are pretty strong willed.  It's a perfect storm for insurgency, hostage negotiations, and hunger strikes. And that's just before 8 am. 

The peace that came with Jacob and Ava sharing a room was short lived. Jacob enjoyed playing musical beds a little more than he enjoyed having a roommate. He also gave up his strong hold on the crib the night he climbed out and fell on his head. Poor Ava was shuffled from bed to crib to mattress to floor as Jacob decided that wherever she was sleeping must be the best spot. 

Todd's strategy is to divide and conquer. So far, it seems to be working much better than letting them scream and yawn and rub their eyes even though they "aren't tired, mommy."

Jacob doesn't just want all the sleeping spots for himself, he needs what everyone else has. His plea for Adam to share was adorable the first 10,000 times, "pwease gege, pwease". (Gege is big brother in Chinese). But Adam's new favorite pastime is snatching up anything he thinks Jacob might want, and then he teases him until Operation Give Mom High Blood Pressure reaches a fever pitch and someone winds up with a bandaid and mom has high blood pressure and a hankering for Oreos dipped in Nutella.

Ava's reaction to Jacob's stinginess is a little different. He takes the toy or object from her, and she screams as if he just killed a puppy in front of her so we give the toy back and she hurls the object across the room and throws herself onto the floor distraught. So now Jacob is screaming for the toy and Ava is screaming, and I am over here like, "hey, Adam, remember when you were an only child?"

Our kids are like terrorists... Well, I mean, they haven't killed anyone...yet. But you can't negotiate with them. Honestly, you can't even have a conversation with them because they only seem to hear "mwah mwah mwah" like the mom from Charlie Brown. Trying to talk to them is like beating a dead horse... You wind up exhausted and frustrated, and they just lay there wondering what your problem is. 

"Hey, Adam. Do you want to go to the pool this afternoon?"

"Mo-om, you never let me do anything fun."

"What are you talking about? I want to take you to the pool."

"You said I can never go to the pool again!!"

And that's where I should stop. Because before I know it, he has a new Minecraft toy, a cookie, and plans to go to a waterpark. 

So tonight while I'm sleeping, I'm sure they will be planning their hostile takeover and the Battle to turn mom's hair grey will be looming on the horizon. But it's all good. My life is like Groundhog Day... If my defense fails today, I can try something new tomorrow. 

We gave them fire...what were we thinking?

Anything but ordinary

I considered not publishing this blog post. According to the Murphey's Law of Children, whenever you say something nice about your child(ren), they tend to make you regret it immediately afterwards. So after a morning of tantrums, whining, and fighting, I've decided to say it anyway. I'm a glutton for punishment. 

Yesterday, Adam told me that I am an ordinary person. 

Maybe I am "just" a mom. I live a typical American life. I complain that my kids don't eat enough vegetables and make too many messes. We take a yearly vacation at the beach, run through sprinklers, and can be found at the local soccer field in the fall and the tee ball field in the spring. We read Dr Seuss, squish play-doh, and watch Frozen WAY too often. 

My kids, on the other hand, make me feel  extraordinary...extraordinarily incompetent. 

Ava gets a kick out of pretending to kick me in the face. 

Adam tells me that I never let him do anything fun... minutes after we come home from playing at the park and swimming. 

And Jacob, well, he whines, fights, and marches to a different beat. 

So I may be extraordinarily inept at this parenting thing, and I am sure many people would accuse me of being boring. But one thing is for sure, I am never bored with my ordinary life. 

And my kids, I hope they realize their potential and learn to enjoy helping others. And if they must be spoiled, may it be with love and not possessions. I want the world to see their hearts and know that my kids are anything but ordinary.