October 8

Yep, I missed a day.

In the past 11 days I have been to Kansas City once, Topeka twice and Hays twice. I've hunted down grocery store notaries and begged for new paperwork from social workers on Sundays. I've run back and forth from state office building to state office building. I've reunited with long lost friends. Stayed out until 4am. Reunited with relatives from Vermont to Arizona. Had my heart broken. Laughed. Cried. Screamed. Cleaned up puke, poop, and more (trust me, a lot more) poop. Steam cleaned a rental car in the dead of night (puke, remember?). Got a parking warning when my meter ran out. Thank goodness it wasn't a ticket!

All I want is to stay home, bake banana bread and assorted pumpkin goodies, hang out with my kids and get the fall and winter clothes organized. I want to spend more time with my home schoolers, working on school. I want to spend time with my swimmer, working on his strokes and turns. I want to spend more time with Ralphie, working on his sight words. I want to spend more time with my teen, working on his driving skills. I'm really in the mood to paint trim, too.

I just need life to slow down a bit, but I've nearly given up. Each day brings it's own fresh drama and emergencies and expenses. Each day I make it through. What other choice is there, right?

I *think* I'm getting close to a more relaxed pace. It's time to start cooking ahead and putting meals in the freezer. It's time to start thinking of warm things to pack for Ukraine. It's time to rearrange sleeping quarters, and make a nice spot for Maxim. There is much to do here at home.

I'll be saying "no" more from here on out. I'm the type that wants to do everything! I hate to miss out on anything...until I start missing out on the really important and eternal things, right? So easy to lose perspective.

It's been a wild week and a half, but I do have fresh perspective. And I'm very thankful for it.

October 6 - Remembering

Today our family is gathered to remember a special woman. 

My gram.

She was not just my gram. She had seven other grandchildren, and they weren't always very happy with me when I said, "my gram." But from my earliest memories, she was mine. Mom and I lived with gram and gramp for most of my growing up years. She made me bacon and toast and dunkin' eggs for breakfast. She gave me my first coffee, with lots of milk and sugar, while grampa complained that it would stunt my growth. 

Gram worked her tail off, from a very young age. She lied about her age to get a job making ammunition boxes during WWII. She started and ran at least five restaurants. She took care of people, lonely customers, hobos, employees, her family and more. 

I'm sorry that I can't call her up in the middle of the day anymore. I could always count on her to help me figure out what to make for supper, or how to work with a certain cut of meat that I found on sale. Sometimes I'd call just to chat about nothing. 

I think I'll miss that the most.

October 5

The T-shirts are ready!

This adoption shirt, designed by the beautiful and talented Heather Schlitt, features the outline of the country of Ukraine. We chose a cotton/poly blend for durability. Your choice of adult M, L, or XL is available for a gift of $20, XXL for $22.

Please fill out our order form here.

Proceeds will benefit our adoption of Maxim. 

October 4 - Rockin'

Theo ROCKS!!

And like many (most?) post-institutional children, he actually rocks.



It's a behavior that we generally discourage, but it's so DEEPLY rooted that I would have to be next to him every minute of the day to catch him every time. But I don't always want to make him stop. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I understand that he NEEDS to rock. It feeds something in his soul.

Poor kids. Babies are MADE to be rocked and cuddled. Mommies are MADE to rock and cuddle babies. This is what you get when you interrupt the natural order.

This morning Theo was in a rockin' mood. I was busy and couldn't redirect him, but I didn't want him to rock like a zombie either. This time I put some Switchfoot on my phone, locked the screen, and gave it to him. It's socially acceptable to rock to music, right? He loved it! And I'd have video of it, except he was holding my phone!

Do you think I can teach him to only rock to music?

October 3 - Looking for headlights

Once upon a time, long, long ago, when I lived in Arizona, I enjoyed cycling. I did a few Mountain biking series, a few time trials, lots of groups rides. It was a lifestyle that I loved.

One day, when I was first getting started, I went out for a training ride with my husband and our good friend, Joe. We dropped off our two little boys at my mom's house and headed out to the foothills of the Santa Rita mountains.

I struggled to keep up with the men from the start. One steep hill revealed another, after another, after another. At the top of each new hill, I watched for the trail to turn and head back to our parking spot, but like waves on the ocean, the hills were endless.  

I began to fade, walking up at times and the coasting down, only to quit halfway up the next hill. The sun began to fade as well. We were in real trouble. If you've never experienced it, you can't imagine a darker place than the desert on a moonless night. 

Panic set in. I thought about my boys, Wesley and Richy, and my mom and grandparents who were waiting for me to return. How long would they wait before calling the sheriff? Would they even know where to look for us? (This was back in the the day before cell phones!) Should we turn back? Press on?

Joe rode ahead to where the trail met the road and made it back to his truck. James stayed with me, and stayed cool as I strained to keep moving. I could barely see the trail when we finally reached the road. Riding on the road was blessedly easy after tackling the huge hills, but still we could barely see. I was never so happy to see a set of headlights in my whole life!

This episode has just been tucked away in my mind for years. I never really thought much about it, or took away any lessons (other than better training ride planning!) until this week. I've dealt with one obstacle after another for a few weeks now. It feels like I have many hills left ahead of me and little relief in sight. I am slogging ahead, tackling the hills and watching for headlights. 

October 2

Once you have been Shanghied to Holland, and you come to terms, other destinations become less intimidating. Take Eastern Europe, for example.So I need to express my appreciation to Holland on behalf of Zhen and Theo.

Eastern Europe was not on my radar before Holland. Adoption was not on my radar before Holland. Zhen and Theo were not on my radar before Holland.

Thank you, Holland!

October 1

Good gravy! I've been BUSY!! When I slow down this week (oh, I hope), I'll do some catching up.

If you have followed me for long, you might know that October is Down Syndrome Awareness month. I will try once again to blog every single day in October to raise awareness. It's called 31 for 21. Since I'm beat and mentally spent tonight, I'll start out with a well known poem. I hope you like it!

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

by
Emily Perl Kingsley

c. 1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.