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: