City blooming

We have a big peach tree in our backyard.  It's not usually much to look at, but every other year (yes, just every other year for some reason) it bears the most glorious peaches.  I love it.

My kids love it too.  They shimmy up the little trunk, perch in the branches, and look out over...well...the alley.  And the street.  Maybe not much of a view, but they're kids, so they think it's really neat anyhow.

When I was a little girl my dad built us a ranch-style home on a ten-acre almond orchard.  I can remember climbing my share of trees and taking cool evening walks on our property, filling cups and buckets with the almonds we'd pick.  My childhood was spent, for the most part, living in rural California with lots of trees and space to play and dream.

As for my own children, well, they have yet to live on more than what amounts to a city lot.  They have spent their time between two homes: one in a new tract-housing development in California, and now our current home which is in an old Denver neighborhood.  (My boys of course lived in an orphanage too, but I'm not counting that.)  Sometimes I really wish we owned some acreage, that we had a creek to play in or an old tire swing to swing on.  I think about lazy summer afternoons where my kids could just fall out the front door and run around to their hearts' content.  No traffic or sirens at night.  Just lots of quiet.

We actually used to imagine ourselves buying a place out in the country.  But then we decided we'd rather do the city thing for now.  So, here we are.

Sometimes I look at my city-living children and think about their childhoods.  I try to compare them to mine.  (Which I LOVED.)  To figure out what is really best.  But all I really see is that my kids are having tons of fun.  No creek on our corner lot, true, but the little people in my home LOVE riding their bicycles down the shady tree-lined streets, greeting people and dogs as they pass.  We don't have a tire swing, but we have a great time walking down South Pearl Street for a treat on a warm summer's day.  And chatting with the Ethiopian man who works at the 7-11 where we buy our powdered donuts and chocolate milk.  Then we often find ourselves eagerly sifting through treasures at the yard sales spilling onto the sidewalks each and every weekend.

I have to tell you that there were also times as I was growing up when we lived "in town"--while my dad was building the house my parents live in now.  And, quite frankly, I loved those years too.  Riding my bike, walking with my mom to get a donut or to browse around KMart, listening for the ice cream man...yes, those were special times too.

{And I discovered something when we uprooted our family and moved to Denver and pretty much started over two-plus years ago.  It was that home is, well, where we are.  We can thrive anywhere.  My children don't need any one particular thing to be happy.  They make their own fun.  Kevin and I are apparently the same way.}

It seems there are pros and cons to pretty much any living situation.  Just last night I was talking to a friend on the phone who said she'd love to live several different lives--so many options for where to live, what kind of lifestyle to lead.  She wished she could do all of them, and I kind of do too.  Because part of me really would like to live out in the middle of nowhere and have a huge vegetable garden (okay, in all likelihood I would probably kill all the veggies within about a week, but I can dream) and wide open spaces for my kids to run around.  But the other part of me loves where we live, and the community that we have, and the fact that my kids adore our neighbors (even though we don't even know them super well).  I can walk to a cute coffeeshop, Safeway, Starbucks, lots of restaurants, a park, a library.

Childhood has the potential to be magical, no matter where it is spent.  Wherever we live, I want to do it well--taking advantage of where God has us at this very time in our lives.  That's not hard to do when you love where you're at, and for now anyway I totally do.  In part because I love having convenient access to things.  AND, we are easily less than an hour from majestic mountain trails and rural outdoorsy stuff for times when we want to get away.  Seriously, I am convinced that some of the most amazing beauty in the world is here in Colorado.  If you don't believe me, then you simply have to see it for yourself.  The Rocky Mountains and surrounding areas and state parks are stunning.  And we've barely touched the tip of the iceberg in terms of exploring them for ourselves!

But either way, we have a peach tree in our backyard.  Which is pretty great, because even if we spend the next twenty years here in the city--and we very well might, because I do love the city--my kids will have fond memories of climbing a tree, scraping their elbows on said tree, and tasting the sweet, juicy fruit of a freshly picked peach.  They may be city kids by default, but they've got some country in 'em too.  They're climbing trees, just like I used to. 

Only difference is, they see an alley when they get to the top.

Life with a not-officially-diagnosed-but-definitely-showing-signs-of-ADHD son

It's been some time since I've shared anything about my son Biniam and his ADHD.  (Well, until I accidentally hit the "publish post" button and posted this when it wasn't done yet.  Oops!)

I did mention that, at Biniam's well-check, the doctor didn't believe me or even remotely entertain the notion that Biniam has ADHD.  Not for any good reason, but simply because he claims that five-year-old boys are all somehow on the ADHD spectrum.  I understand his reluctance to slap a label on a defenseless child--I'm not a fan of labels myself--but sometimes, a label serves as helpful.  Validating.  I felt a HUGE sense of relief when I finally was able to pinpoint what was going on with my son who, while never ever EVER defiant, couldn't seem to follow through on some really specific tasks.  (In addition to a slew of other random symptoms.)  The doctor also made some really lame, offensive comments about how once Biniam is in school in a more structured environment, he'll thrive, because he knows how to push my buttons at home.  Um, excuse me?  It has nothing to do with pushing my buttons.  It's not that type of problematic behavior in the least.  I do maintain a structured-but-flexible, simple routine at home, and if this man knows ANYthing about ADHD (which, apparently, he does not), he knows that a classroom environment with 25+ 5-year-olds running around is NOT an ideal setting for a child with ADHD.  Not to mention, the impulsivity that I see is not limited to home-life.  It's exacerbated, in fact, when there is lots of noise, or lots and lots of other children (church, for example).  Classic ADHD.  (I will hereby add that this doctor doing the well-check is NOT our pediatrician, just the person in that day, and he has no children of his own.)

If you have had a doctor invalidate your motherly intuition, you know it is NOT fun.  In the least.  I'd wanted help, or hope, or a packet of pills that would make Biniam's brain slow down a bit.  Medicating children with ADHD is controversial for sure, but I'd reached a place where I felt like I was at my wit's end.  I was certain that one of us needed meds--either him or me!  But after I got shut down at the doctor's office, I knew I needed to regroup and figure out our next step.  At one point I was going to call back and specifically request an ADHD screening appointment.

That never happened though, and I don't remember why.  I guess deep down I would prefer to put off medicating for as long as I can.  Biniam is a generally well-behaved child and he's actually been doing really well lately.  In making the decision to forgo further testing (and therefore medication) for now, I have had to adjust my expectations.

My expectations.  Ouch.  I have a lot of those.

See, the ADHD-ish behaviors are things that drive me NUTS.  But they don't usually affect Biniam at all, only insomuch as it can affect how I relate to him.  For example, his impulsivity leads to him doing random things without thinking.  Or how he kinda flits around sometimes or does funny things with his hands.  Always moving, all the time.  Allllll of those behaviors drive me up the wall, but he's happy as a clam.  (He's not even what I would classify as a super active boy however.  It's more subtle.  Even the moving around.  He's not a rough child by any means.)  That's the thing about this kid: he's happy go lucky pretty much all the time.  He lives in the moment.  So far, he functions quite well, makes tons of friends wherever we go, and is well-liked by both kids and adults.  My medicating him at this point would be, in a nutshell, for me.  And my sanity.

Let me now interrupt this broadcast to say that one can NOT underestimate the value of a mother's sanity.  Honestly, there is a reason for the saying "If Mama ain't happy, ain't NObody happy."  I will not sacrifice my relationship with my little boy to avoid medication.  That is ridiculous.

That being said...by tweaking my attitude a bit, and in adjusting my thoughts and response to him, I can--at this stage of the game--avoid putting him on medication.  He is happy, thriving, and being that he'll be homeschooled, he'll have the ability to learn at a pace and in a context suitable for him (taking lots of little breaks for example, doing times tables while jumping on the trampoline, etc.)   Biniam is a quirky little fellow, no doubt about it, but he is so full of fun and enthusiasm for life.  He has a sweet heart. 

As time goes on, we'll of course reevaluate.  There may come a day when medication is the right choice for us.  Not now though.  It would not be fair to him.  We need to try dealing with it in positive ways first, and I'm not even necessarily talking about behavior modification techniques.  I simply mean that we need to accept who he is, ADHD and all, and learn how to live well with that.  I need to set achievable goals for him, one at a time, instead of just expecting him to figure out how to keep track of his shoes...and not to push past people in his excitement to get on to the next thing...and not to exasperate his sister...overnight, all at the same time.  I cannot expect him to be wired differently than he is. 

So far I'd say things are going a bit better.  I'm making a point to have lots of positive interaction with Biniam and not getting so frustrated about certain things.  Not sure if it's like this for you, but when you're feeling happy, positive things towards your child in general, you can handle so.much.more.  You can deal with their misbehavior and issues, and it doesn't drag you down.  This is huge for me.  I'm (more than) a little nervous about homeschooling this year--I can totally see myself getting impatient and there are going to be some challenges.  BUT, we're taking it one day at a time.  And I'm seeing quite clearly the reason behind God's telling us to believe the best about others.  Why is that especially hard to do when it comes to our own children?  Maybe because it's especially IMPORTANT when it comes to our own children.

Everyone thinks they know what ADHD is.  Everyone has a picture in their mind of how it looks, what it means, how it should feel.  Well, I'm telling you that it's different from what I expected.  It's not excessive hyperactivity, chaos, or loud noise.  It's not rude and disrespectful behavior.  In my home it comes in the form of a sweet, small five year old boy who, yes, struggles with some things, like remembering names, keeping track of his ____ (insert any and every personal belonging he owns), telling the truth from time to time, or asking tons of questions.  It also comes in the form of enthusiasm, fun, a quickness to forgive, and a joy not always so easily seen in life.  Biniam most certainly has ADHD, yes.  Some days I want to swap his situation for something else that surely would feel more manageable to me than this.

But other days...other days I wonder what my home would be like without that beaming smile, or what our family of introverts would do without Biniam's sociability.  I can't really, truly seperate ADHD from who my son is, because so many of his good, amazing, unique qualities fall along that spectrum.  Just like the more challenging ones do.

In the end I know that my son is precisely who God made him to be.  He may learn to read differently, or have quirky, fidgety mannerisms, or have a harder time focusing in and listening to me in a noisy crowd...but...he's my son.  I love him.  And it's all part of life, I'm learning.  Things not always turning out the way you may have imagined, or the way you may have chosen.  I choose to believe that they're turning out the way that they are supposed to.  Imperfect, but also somehow good, and in line with what God has for me and my family.

Because really, having a child who comes up with the idea to jump on the trampoline with his sister--wearing clothes hampers on their heads--well, it doesn't get much better than that.

7 Quick Takes Friday {#5}

7 Quick Takes.  Conversion Diary.  Just like last week.  :)

1.)  I need to clean my home.  Big-time.  It's a disaster in pretty much every single room.  This always seems to happen in summertime...I'm out of my normal routine and we're going a lot.  Playdates, free movies, picnics, and other assorted activities are far more fun than mopping and scrubbing.  I'm trying to be okay with a little clutter and mess here and there all in the name of summer, but it's at a point where I am comPLETEly stressed out.  Must clean.  Soon.

2.)  Is there any better drink than Thai Iced Tea?  I didn't think so.  I had an AMAZING one Wednesday night when we went out for my birthday.  We were originally going to have Indian food (which I LOVE), but then decided to save that for another time and went to a Thai place instead.  In part so I could get the tea.  It's a good thing they don't do free refills on those because you wouldn't be able to get me out of the restaurant. 

3.)  Across from this particular restaurant is a bar-type-place where there were tons of people sitting on the balcony loudly laughing and talking and having a merry old time.  It made me smile to think of how different my life must be from theirs.  Happy hour on a Wednesday night is not typically where you'll find me--scrambling to get dinner on the table for a family of seven, that is much more my speed.  The people all seemed to be enjoying themselves...but I'm glad for the quiet little life that I lead.  (Not that I would MIND an occasional happy hour out.)

4.)  The state of Colorado requires some crazy number of face-to-face training hours for an international adoption.  So our homestudy agency has these trainings that go from 9:30-2:30 on Saturdays, one per month.  There are four total that keep cycling.  We have had a horrible time lining up childcare (for four kids, all day on a Saturday, who would have thought?!) and therefore blew off the last two trainings.  (We've made it two so far.)  I'm so over it.  It's ridiculous.  The training is something you only have to do once, but this is our first adoption living in Colorado.  SO, even though we adopted two children nearly five years ago, but in California, we still have to go and sit and listen about Ethiopian culture, travel tips etc.  It is maddening.  I think the agency does a great job with their trainings, in that they provide good information for new adoptive parents, but for us it is just highly impractical.  And giving up an entire Saturday with your kids doesn't seem like great attachment parenting, but that's just me.  It's held at a library in a conference room and I cannot FATHOM why they don't offer childcare in another room there...just put on a couple of movies for goodness' sakes!  If it was just my THREE oldest kids, I MIGHT consider sticking them right outside the room with a laptop to quietly watch some movies, but Kaitlyn, at three years old, is a bit of a wild card and would probably disrupt the training.  Or break the laptop.  (Because she's done that before.)  Awesome.  Soooo, here's hoping we can get people lined up for the next ones, in the fall.  (OR, let's hope that our social worker takes pity on me after the email I sent her and decides to let us off the hook for some of the hours.)

4.)  I bought the kids some homeschool supplies Wednesday at Target.  (Colored pencils, crayons, erasers, gluesticks, etc.)  Just being in that section makes me want to pick up my own supplies and go back to school!  I have always, always loved school supplies.  Every year, as a kid, I'd get SO excited to go choose pencils and pens and a new binder and divider tabs.  It makes me downright giddy.  Interesting, because I never actually liked school that much.  But apparently buying the supplies made it all tolerable.

5.)  Does it drive anyone else crazy that Costco doesn't open for the normal members until 11 am???  I seriously feel like a second-class citizen, knowing they won't let me into the store until 11 because I don't have the "special" card.  There are some other funny things about Costco, too.  Like the fact that if you, heaven forbid, FORGET your membership card and leave it at home, you have to get a whole NEW card at customer service!  What in the world?!  What kind of archaic business practice is this?  How hard would it be for them to just put in your phone number or something to check you out?  I also have to admit that it irks me that I have to PAY to BUY THINGS.  A Costco membership, even the lowly, you-can't-get-in-until-11 one, is $50 per year.  I'm paying...to be able to pay for groceries there.  Suddenly this is making very little sense to me.  Hmmmm.  (I also feel like a criminal having to SHOW my card to get in.  But Anna loves to be the one to do it, so I'll let that one slide.)

6.)  Everyone is talking about this oil spill.  I feel a little guilty because I don't know much of what is going on with it.  The photos of birds, fish and ducks are horrific, but I don't know that I fully grasp the implications of what this means for the environment, the Gulf Coast, etc.  I don't follow why President Obama somehow did something wrong, or why this must be an example of why big corporations are bad.  Some days the news just seems really overwhelming for me.  Sometimes I feel so completely overstimulated that I like to pretty much circle the wagons and not read any news.  Part of me hates this, but part of me thinks it's healthy.  So I guess my official viewpoint is, I'm really sad this oil spill happened because the devastation seems wide-spread, to say the least, and horrible for the environment.  (Incidentally, my maiden name begins with a "P", so my initials used to be BP.  There was a new BP gas station in town and a friend of mine in high school started calling me BP, because he thought it was cool that my initials were on a big sign.  SO, I may be the only person in the United States today who, upon hearing "BP", feels a twinge of happiness.)

7.)  My kids are so incredibly clueless when it comes to pop-culture. CLUELESS.  Tuesday we saw the movie "Kit Kittredge" at the theater.  When I told my six-year-old daughter the name of the movie, she wrinkled up her nose and said, "That sounds like a tongue twister to me!"  She has no idea what an American Girl doll is.  None.  (She really enjoyed the movie though.)  Then recently someone was talking about their ipod.  "What's an ipod?" my kids all wanted to know.  Ha!  They don't really know any music artists by name, or classic cars.  They know people in the Bible, some Disney/Pixar characters and literary figures, but that's pretty much it.  I never really set out to raise super sheltered kids, but somehow it has happened.  (They DO, on the other hand, know all about a country in East Africa called Ethiopia, they know what HIV is, how to change a diaper, about birth and adoption and about infant care.  They can also all sing the Doxology.  So there's that.)  I'm sure this will change as they get older and therefore gain more exposure to various things, but in the meantime, it's pretty hilarious. 

Well that's it for this week.  I had a hard time coming up with seven things for some reason!  Hopefully I'm not losing my knack for random musings--because I just don't know how I would survive!

Latest passion

No, it's not taking pictures of my kids in mundane, unexpected places like Costco (although I did do that this week.)

Nope, not scheming up a way to raise the funds to go to this conference in October (but I assure you I'm definitely thinking about it.)

Nah, not eagerly checking the mail each day in order to see if my Story of the World books have come (though you can bet I'm doing that too.)

What is it, you ask?  What is plaguing my thoughts and churning in my heart and captivating my spirit these days? 

Reece's Rainbow.  An organization devoted to the adoption of waiting children with Down Syndrome in other countries (and a few other special needs too.)  I honestly don't know how or when I first discovered them, but I have not been able to get the whole matter out of my mind.  (Reading Simply Surrender has not helped either.)

Adoption is, without question, a strange journey.  Just sooooo much to think about.  Foster care...international adoption...healthy vs. special needs...so many variables.  Well, for us anyhow.  Because we don't really have a plan anymore.  Our plan was to adopt two specific children (with medical needs) who had been waiting quite some time for a family.  Nearly five years, to be exact.  And while we're not doing that now, we still want to do some sort of special needs/medical needs adoption.  NO clue what that will look like.  We're pretty much open to whatever.  (Apparently we're flexible like that.)  Though we are committed to Ethiopia, because we've already invested a bit of money into the program.

As we explore our options and consider what we believe we can handle and what God wants from and for our family, I am compelled by the children represented by Reece's Rainbow.  Sweet, precious little ones who need families more than ever both because of their present needs, and because of their lack of a future as developmentally disabled children living in an institution.  The world, our nation, even the church...everyone says with either words or actions (sometimes both) that these children just.plain.don't.matter.  (An entire blogpost of its own could, and should, be devoted to this, when you consider the fact that over 90% of babies with Down Syndrome are aborted in the United States.  This is so horribly tragic, I just cannot imagine how God must weep when He sees the sorry state of the world that He made.  When He considers the sweet little ones cast aside each day.  Another blogpost for another time, for sure.)

Today I'm meeting some girlfriends for lunch (always such a treat, because I have really amazing friends!) and I'm looking forward to talking through some of these things.  One of these friends is in a similar position, wondering where God might be leading her and her family in their own adoption-process-that-may-turn-out-differently-than-they'd-expected.  I'm anxious to hear her heart and what she is thinking.  How God is moving.

Deep down I'm so grateful that God continues to challenge my assumptions and plans and lead me to unexpected, hard places.  Even if it's tough, and even when I complain like a selfish, spoiled brat.  I feel really "adrift" in this process...no doubt about it...and yet I know that God is working and has something in mind for our family.  (It's really not about me anyway!)  There is, presumably, a precious little one who needs a home that we are equipped to provide.  So incredibly humbling.  A little scary.  Pretty exciting too.

Mostly though, I'm just thinking and dreaming of these sweet little ones, so very precious and just waiting for a mama and daddy to scoop them up and love and kiss them to pieces. 

{29}

Today I turn {29}.

I find myself dumbfounded that, well, I only have one more year of my twenties left to live (!) 

Not sure why, but I can feel the clock ticking...as if I'm about to exit the last decade of relative-youth, bound for the '30s and later the '40s and '50s.  I'm becoming an adult or something.  (If having five children doesn't already make you an adult.  Pretty sure it does, although maybe not, since I'm regularly asked if I'm babysitting.  It is, therefore, quite possible that I still haven't achieved adult-status.)

I don't FEEL any older, really, than I ever did.  But somehow 29 sounds much, much older than 26, or even 27.

Hmmm. 

Life moves so much more quickly when you have little ones to mark the passage of time.  Wasn't it just yesterday when my water broke and I packed up my hospital bag and soaked sat on a bunch of towels on the couch while I waited for Kevin to commute home?  No, I was 22 and about to have our first baby.  That was nearly seven years ago.  Sheesh.

What I think I want to say this July 14th is simply the following: I won't be a woman who bemoans each and every birthday, who complains about her ever-increasing age and who longs for her younger years/pre-baby body/faster metabolism/crows-feet-free-eyes.  Nope, not gonna do that.  For one thing, vanity is a personal pet-peeve of mine.  I work hard to kick it to the curb.  It's yucky.  For another, life ought not belong to the young.  God is present in each and every moment, in the here-and-now, working common miracles in my life and in yours whether we are ten or fifty-four.  What a shame to spend valuable moments of God-given breath wishing for the past and for things that ultimately perish anyway.  We are who God made us to be.  Today. 

To be honest, I don't wish to relive my teen years.  I might like to go back for a day or two though, because they were good years.  (See, frequent trips to the beach and skipping Advanced Placement English class in lieu of eating frozen yogurt at the park, with your very best friend, are pretty darn fun.  So was watching Friends every Thursday night and getting the "Jennifer Anniston haircut" my freshman year of high school.  Let's not kid ourselves.)  But I've experienced so much since then, things I wouldn't trade for the world.  (Not to mention, the haircut, while good, never did make me LOOK like Jennifer.  What is that about?)

I also don't want to go back to my early '20s, save for a couple of days perhaps.  My early years of marriage were great, the early years of parenting were magical, but here I am today with five precious children.  I love my respective relationships with each of them.  They make me laugh.  Basically I just really like where I am. 

Most of the time.

Because all of this is not to say that living in our air-brushed society (and church unfortunately), vanity is easy to overcome.  To be honest I do occasionally (like everyone else...right??!!) struggle with feelings of insecurity, look-at-how-much-more-fashionable-she-is-than-me, and wouldn't my life be so much more interesting and glamorous if I didn't spend  my days grumpily herding cats lovingly tending to five small children up and down the sample-laden aisles of Costco?

And so I ponder the following words:

If nothing so much as motherhood or potential motherhood makes a man respect a woman, this is because it raises her above the category of an object to be possessed and establishes her in that of a subject to be revered.
--Cormac Burke

Age is a gift.  To grow up and quietly, gracefully slip into the role of wife and nurturer and mother is truly remarkable.  I'm choosing to believe this with all that is in me.  I'm reminding myself of this when I feel inadequate.  I'm holding to this as I kiss owies and make PB&J sandwiches and kick vanity to the curb...all for the umpteenth time.

I'm 29.  Committed to loving life and pretty darn excited about all my future holds.  Even if I don't do one little thing this whole next year, and just sit on my couch eating Butterfingers and Candy Cane Joe-Joe's whilst watching Days of Our Lives (of which I may or may not be a fan), my twenties will have been exciting, busy, fulfilling, amazing, and encompassing more love and joy than a lifetime should hold.

A happy birthday indeed!

(And if you think there's any chance that I'll actually spend the next three-hundred-and-sixty-five days in a stationary position, filling my stomach with delectable treats as I escape to Salem and angrily question why Bo and Hope never get along, well, you're wrong.  I'll probably spend an afternoon or two doing that, though.  And if you bring me Dr. Pepper or Diet Coke, I'll let you join me.  I might even share my Butterfinger.)

The Queen Mary

These are rare photos of Mary Lu Lu sitting confined in something.

She is always.always.always on the move.  She began crawling months ago.

The thing is, Mary wants so badly to keep up with her siblings.  If they're outside, in the backyard, she makes a beeline for the door.  Sadly she hasn't mastered stairs yet and is therefore unable to navigate her way down onto the deck.  So she'll pause, and sit there and cry, and watch everyone else tearing around on their bikes and digging in the dirt and climbing the peach tree. 

I am actually pretty sure that's what she's doing here.  Watching her siblings play.

It's been interesting seeing Mary becoming more and more involved in the bigger kids' lives.  Ever since she was born, THEY have included HER in their goings-on (playing pretend became way more fun when there was a live baby to use!), but now SHE is finally able to participate a little bit.  Just the other day she sat at Anna's Barbie house and, well, played Barbies.  So cute!

I'm continually amazed by the "plight" of what I shall call "subsequent babies".  You know what I mean, right?  Your first baby kinda becomes your life and your focus.  You think about what they're eating and wearing and doing.  But by child number five, well, they sort of just assimilate into the rest of the family.  When you're not looking.  Because you're distracted by someone throwing a temper tantrum because you said they couldn't have chocolate chips for breakfast.  Some people think this is sad.  If they could spend a day following Mary Lu around, though, they might find out that it's actually pretty awesome.

Morning. 

Four kids begging, "Can we get Mary up?  Can we get Mary up?"
Lots of playing and cuddling on the floor. 

 (After Mommy has properly nursed and changed Mary.  A hungry baby is not so fun.)

Noon.

If, at any point during the day, I make an attempt to feed/change/cuddle Mary, I will surely have no less than two other children swarming around, making silly faces and noises at her.  This may or may not annoy Mommy.  This may or may not make Mary incredibly happy. 

Night.

If the children get wind that I am putting Mary down for the night, there will be much hanging on me and "night night!"s and kissy noises and various small people begging to put her down in her crib.

So, yes, they have somehow begun to initiate their baby sister into their world.  More and more she is becoming "one of them."  Slightly terrifying, because now there will be FIVE of them as opposed to "four of them and a baby."  These kids have a strong bond.  There may be five and a half years between my oldest and my youngest, but oh how I wish you could see Mary's face when Anna changes her diaper.  So.much.love. 

I know without a doubt that this is why Mary began crawling when she did.  Neither of my other babies crawled (or reached ANY sort of physical milestone) early.  But she's ready.  To be part of the group.  To shout at the squirrels and play in the backyard playhouse.  To dig for worms.  Mary loves her mommy and daddy, but she lives for sibling interaction.

And I can't say I blame her, because aside from the worm excavations, my kids do some pretty fun stuff.  I do wonder about how her personality will be shaped by all this unconditional sibling love.  Kaitlyn was utterly doted on by her three older siblings...and now pretty much runs our household.  Now there are FOUR kids treating Mary like a queen.  We better watch out!  :)

Truly a joy to sit back and enjoy the relationships between your children and see the dynamics working themselves out.  That's why the above picture makes me smile.  Five kids.  All together.  Including the baby.  Who is, undeniably, the queen.

How do you do it: 5 kids at a well-check

I get asked a lot how I manage various aspects of having five small-ish children.  The honest answer is, I-don't-know, and not-always-very-well.  The other just-as-honest part of my answer is, some things about having five kids so close in age are actually easy.  I'm not gonna lie.  When I say this most people either a) don't believe me, or b) want to canonize me for sainthood.  

That being said...

Some things are NOT as easy. 

Part of our adoption homestudy stipulated every single person in our family have a medical.

Eesh.

All of my kids were due for theirs, so a couple of months ago, I made the appointments.  Which would all fall on the same day.  Two kids in the morning, an hour-and-a-half break for lunch, and two kids in the afternoon.  (Mary had just had one of her baby well-checks the week before so she was simply along for the ride.  She likes being included like that.)

We showed up to the office bright and early, me and my brood.  Anna and Kaitlyn, pictured up at the top in their paper gowns (that they think are sooooo cool), were first. 

There is a lot of waiting at the doctor's office.  Lots and lots of waiting.  Thankfully there was a basket of books in our room.

Mary likes to spread out on the floor.  She had a blast crawling around.

Ideally they would also include long chapter books in the waiting room, because Anna polished off the basket's contents in about fifteen minutes.

Kaitlyn loved looking at books with Mary Lu. 

Now the girls' physicals themselves went just fine.  No issues.  No big deal.  Except, you know, the doctor (NOT our actual pediatrician who we {love} but the doctor who happened to be in that day) now probably thinks something is wrong with Kaitlyn's cognitive abilities.  She WOULD NOT make eye contact with him.  Or speak to him.  Wouldn't answer his questions.  Could not be coerced into hopping like a bunny, or telling him who she likes to play with.  Nothing.  "Does she talk at home?" he asked in a concerned voice.

Yes, she talks at home.

All.the.time.

Then, when he was attempting to get a reflex by tapping her knee with his happy little knee-tapper, well, he couldn't get one.  Oh how he tried.  Tap, tap.  Nothing.  Tap, tap, tap.  Still nothing.  He picked up a much heavier medical object and tried it again.  NOTHING.  It was at this point that he started LAUGHING.  "I don't believe it," he said.  "I've never had a child so young do this before!"

Awesome.

SO, he had her clasp her hands together (for some unknown reason she decided to comply.)  He tapped her knee again.  Sure enough, the reflex came.  Because she'd been clasping her hands, and therefore was unable to willfully block the reflex.

Yes folks, my THREE YEAR OLD DAUGHTER was so extremely stubborn that she refused to do the reflext test.  Oh, my.

LUNCH!!!!! 

Oh how happy I was to get out of that office, if even for a mere 90 minutes.  After the knee-jerk fiasco, I was done.  Cooked.  Exhausted.  Amused, yes--don't get me wrong, it was all pretty hilarious, and really where would I be without my sense of humor--but exhausted.  And if you can't tell by the picture, we utilized Taco Bell for our mid-day meal.  We're a real class act, I tell you.  But don't underestimate my sense of accomplishment upon our arrival.  Because my GPS, which I SWEAR has a personal vendetta against me based on the fact that it regularly gives me directions to deserted strip-malls filled with empty warehouses, steered me wrong AND I ended up going the wrong way down a one-way city street.  (That, however, was not the GPS' fault.  That was just me being an idiot.)

{Oh and did you see my swagger wagon in the picture?  It's like it's part of the family or something, posing with the kids for the camera!}

The kids all LOVED dining where I used to work at what I affectionally refer to as T-Bell, and the cashier thought they were all so cute that she gave them free kids' meal toys--you can see Mary with hers.  I think she's rather pleased.

After we got our fill of cleavage-baring 3-D comic book characters on the kids' meal toys burritos and cinnamon twists, we returned to the doctor's office for Yosef and Biniam's appointments.  Where the doctor wouldn't really believe me that Biniam has ADHD.  (It was at this point that I was regretting choosing fast appointments over our regular doctor.  He would have actually listened to me.  He would also have built better rapport with Kaitlyn.  Maybe.)  Of course all the while Biniam is performing strange physical feats and running around in his camoflauge undies with his tongue hanging out.  Riiiiiiight.  He's just a typical five year old boy.  Who can't ever find his shoes and gets distracted at the drop of a hat and blurts things out without thinking and doesn't even know why.  Uh huh.  Sure.

FINALLY...at 3:15 pm...we left the office for good.  We'd shown up at 9:30 that morning.  And so we were tired.  Bedraggled.  Grumpy.  It was upon walking in the door at home that I received the phone call saying we could not adopt the children we thought we were adopting.  You know, the whole reason for the physicals.

Sweet.

So.  How do I do it?  How do I manage five kids at a doctor's appointment?  Oh, you didn't read earlier? 

I don't know.

Not always very well.

I'm not going to say it's easy though.  Do-able, yes.  Exciting, always.  Worth it just to see Kaitlyn spiting the doctor, absolutely.

See, these are the adventures of being an at-home-mom-to-many.  If you have one sweet little cherub that you pamper and coo at after he/she gets his/her shots, right before you tote him/her over to Whole Foods for your organic wheatberries, well, I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into my day at the doctor's office--FYI, no time for tears around here when my kids get poked with a needle.  There's just too darn many of 'em.  But don't worry, they buck right up. 

Because they know we're going to Taco Bell afterwards.

That, friends, is how I do it.

On my list for today

Thrifting/yardsaling

Prepare + deliver a meal to a friend

Laundry

Prepare dessert or side-dish for annual Ethiopian adoptive families picnic

Attend said picnic

Lots to do.  Should be a great day!

7 Quick Takes Friday {#4}

Check out Conversion Diary, do your own Quick Takes, and link up!

1.) Mary is eating solid food now!  So far, just bananas (mashed up with a fork), but she  LOVES it.  Yes, she is eight months old and I'm just now getting going on fruits and veggies.  I like to breastfeed exclusively for as long as possible, and that time has varied with each child.  I didn't do rice cereal with Mary at all.  Anyway, I have a super cute story about Mary's first foray into banana eating, but I will save that for a later post.

2.)  Speaking of breastfeeding, I have become such a nursing advocate.  I love, love, love nursing and it is so good for my babies.  Nutrition (isn't it amazing that everything a baby needs is contained in our milk?), bonding (having that sweet baby so close several times throughout the day), baby-weight-loss (burning a whole bunch of calories just by sitting on the couch?  Yes please!), a natural way to space your children (and delay the return of that pesky once-a-month issue that I haven't seen too often over the past several years, thanks to pregnancies and breastfeeding), reduced risk of cancer (nursing babies for a combined total of two years during your life dramatically reduces your risk of various types of cancer)...yes, God's design is amazing.  No it is not always easy.  One of my babies took forever to figure out how to nurse.  So stressful.  All three times I began nursing it was incredibly painful, some of the worst pain ever for the first couple of weeks or so.  But then somewhere along the way it became very natural (and I stopped doubling over at every feeding), and when you look down at your sweet, contented little babe and realize that she needs you, and loves you, and you are participating in nourishing her and making her feel so safe and secure...yeah...amazing.  Miraculous.  Oh so worth it.

3.)  I'm thinking about all of this right now because of an article I read this past week, written by a woman who pretty much resented her time spent feeding her babies.  Her point was that doctors and the government should NOT be promoting breastfeeding because it leads to a woman's inequality in marriage, emotional issues stemming from being tied down to your child, etc.  Ugh.  She is of course entitled to her bitterness opinions, but really.  I'm sorry if her nursing her children somehow contributed to her husband treating her like a second-class citizen (sounds like she picked the wrong baby daddy), but that is simply not the reality for many (most?) nursing mamas.  Sometimes I think we women struggle so hard against God's design when wouldn't it be so much better to view something like our ability to nurse as EMPOWERING?  Yes, it's true, men can't breastfeed.  (Well, except for the guy in the above picture.  'Cause he's talented like that.)  We are not "the same" in that way.  Well, I say we ladies are the lucky ones.  It may mean sleepy nighttime feedings for us but it also means we get to participate in something positively amazing.  Not to mention, this doesn't have to dictate who holds the power in the marriage.  I say being able to produce food for another person is pretty darn powerful.  (And a GREAT excuse to get out of doing other various household tasks.  Really.)  But that's just me.

4.) I've also been pondering women's and men's roles as of late.  I used to belong to a faith community that taught that women and men have complimentary roles.  Created equal, but created to fulfill different roles.  I now belong (and have for the past couple of years) to a faith community that embraces the concept of egalitarianism: women and men, being created equal, are not limited to particular roles based on their respective genders.  The submission mentioned in the Bible is to be completely mutual.  Women are free to pursue any position whatsoever in the church, may teach men, etc.  Lots of implications, really.  And I have to say that I have seen some really healthy results of this egalitarian worldview working themselves out in church life.  For example, the concept of community seems to play out quite naturally when people aren't seen first and foremost as simply an embodiment of a gender role.  And, mutual submission is Biblical.  I think it works.  Allllllllllll of that being said, I am still not certain of the practical implications when it comes to the concept of raising children and motherhood and all of that.  I'm an at-home mom and that is something I really believe in.  Kevin and I are not, at this point anyway, interchangeable in this sense because I have no earning potential I'm the one who can feed the baby.  Natural law says that I ought to be home with my children right now, since one of them needs me to be there to feed her every few hours.  And why did God give women the exclusive ability to nurse a child?  And does this point towards some sort of role distinction that should be playing out not only at home but at church too?  Hmmmm.  It's interesting.  Well, to me anyway.  'Cause that's how I roll.

5.) Breaking out of the theme of the top four Quick Takes--which, let's face it, were none too quick--I feel like it's taking forever to transition out of sick mode around here.  I'm tired, I'm trying desperately to get back on top of the laundry and housework, but it's tough.  Wednesday I cleaned the floors and made dinner, and yesterday I cleaned the bathrooms, so I suppose that's a good start.  The kids are all healthy again too.  As evidenced by how they spent yesterday racing around in dress-up clothes, shouting, and "building" a playground outside with (heavy) bricks.  Yes, they voluntarily lug bricks around for fun.  No, this is not a form of discipline, although it might work quite nicely if they didn't LIKE carrying the bricks.  (Can I just say how thankful I am that my kids LIKE playing together?  They spend HOURS upon HOURS in the world of make-believe, or Barbies, or GI Joe.  All together.  Usually with minimal fighting.)

6.) Speaking of cleaning the floors, I bought this nifty difty Swiffer wet mop thingy recently and tried it out yesterday.  Typically I would use a mop and a bucket to clean our (extensive) hardwood floors.  But I thought I'd try something different.  I think I liked it, although I don't know if I prefer it.  It seems to leave a bit of residue behind.  Also, it could get expensive replacing the cleaning solution, though I'm thinking I could just refill it with water and my own cleaning stuff, to save money.  Basically I think this mop is probably better for small spaces.  If you have lots and lots of hardwood floors, what do you use to clean them?

7.) I've been having trouble getting to sleep lately.  This is so not like me!  So strange.  I have no clue why.  We switched bedrooms recently, and we sleep with the window open (no AC and Denver is HOT in the summer!), and the sounds of traffic and sirens on Broadway and the trains passing through probably aren't helping.  Oh yes, the trains.  They start up at 11 pm or so and keep coming...and blowing their horns...it is loud.  I actually like the sounds of civilization and the city, but lately it's been a bit much.  We have had a fan going a couple of times and I really could tell that I slept deeper.  However, as nice as white noise is, I don't like that I don't have the ability to hear my kids in their rooms.  On the other hand, it might be NICE to "not hear" Kaitlyn's night terrors.  Hmmmm.  :)

That's it for today, friends.  Hoping you have a great weekend! 

Lazy days of summer

We have so been enjoying our summer around here. Relaxed mornings, sleeping in, picnics with friends, free movies at the movie theater. I love Colorado Summers!

All the pictures in this post were taken one afternoon when some girlfriends and I met up at a local fountain. (My sons were there too, yet somehow I didn't get any pictures of them!) That's Anna with one of our friends, above.

Kaitlyn loves being one of the "big girls".

Kaitlyn and this particular friend of ours are nearly inseperable lately at our playdates. She is so patient with Katie, even though she's a couple of years older.

After much splashing and fun in the water, along with a picnic lunch, we headed over to a sweet little ice cream shop, where each of my kids got their very own scoop. Lots and lots of kiddos in this picture. They had a blast!

It's times like these when it's really hard to imagine snow on the ground, or it being so cold that we stay inside for days at a time. (Which, to be honest, I don't really mind too terribly much. There's something really great about hot chocolate, indoor activities, and snow falling outside too.) I love the seasons in Colorado, and we are soaking up every little bit of summer that we can around here!

I think it was the 4th of July...

Yes, a reference to an old Chicago song.

The lyrics are fitting.

You see, Independence Day was three short days ago.

I think we missed it.

My friend Jeannett over at Life Rearranged shared about their super fun celebrations (in which we used to happily participate, before we moved to Denver. I think about Andy and Jeannett every July Fourth, actually. They know how to throw a good party.)

Friends on Facebook left festive statuses about fireworks, baseball games, cold beer, BBQs.

People have fun on the 4th of July.

How did WE spend the day, you ask?

Well, we spent it sick. Me and the kids. Sick.

No fireworks. No hotdogs or hamburgers or Santa Maria style tri-tip. (Sniff, sniff.) We DID have Chinese take-out for dinner, which was great at the time...

Then that evening, Kaitlyn's fever turned into, well, the stomach flu. She woke up from a night terror (YOU don't have a child who regularly "wakes up" in the middle of the night screaming bloody murder, wringing her hands, who you can't actually wake up, or comfort, or console?) and mumbled something about feeling like she needed to throw up. But then she seemed okay. We brought her to sit with us, however, just in case--plus, she'd already had two night terrors that night. Kevin was cuddling with her, and all of a sudden...well...yeah. She got sick. All over him, and the couch, and our area rug (which seems to always get thrown up on when Kaitlyn has the flu. I swear, she aims for it!)

So, our Fourth of July was spent soothing our sweet three year old and cleaning up vomit. Glamorous, eh?

Honestly, and I know this is going to sound contrived...or unbelievable...but...I felt like in so many ways, God spoke to my heart that night. Truly. Clearly it wasn't the flag-waving, pie-eating, all-American (and vomit free) Independence Day we all feel so entitled to in our country. Instead it was spent doing difficult things for a little girl that I love.

As I combed Kaitlyn's hair, wet from her late-night shower, and pulled it back into a little ponytail, and told her how brave she was and how much Mommy loves her, and how beautiful she is...and as she shakily sat in my lap and said she wanted to be near me, all I could think about was my love for her and how amazingly blessed I am to be her mom. This work that we do, we parents, this in-the-trenches-in-the-middle-of-the-night stuff, is precisely what Jesus is talking about when He says that doing something for one of the least of these is doing something for Him. No, it doesn't sound as cool as working in a home for the destitute and dying in Calcutta, but that's not where God has called me to be. He called me to marriage and to motherhood. And I interface with "the least of these" every.single.day. In my very home.

My vocation doesn't take much sacrifice when things are all going well. Perfectly behaved children, in the best of health, who are on the ideal sleep schedule, don't drive me to my knees before the Lord. (Not that I would know. Remember the night terrors?)

It is in the darkness, seeing my daughter sick and afraid in the middle of the night, seeing my husband tenderly care for her without complaint, when I think about God's hand in her life. These are the moments when I give thanks for all the responsibility (and yes, it's a TON of responsibility), for all that God has entrusted to me. Five precious little ones. Some days this feels overwhelming. Maybe most days.

Yet somehow, as I sprayed the heck out of my couch with Febreze, and hunted down a bucket to keep by Kaitlyn's bedside for the remainder of the night, and laughed with Kevin as we heard exploding fireworks in the distance--the only tangible reminder that it was, indeed, the Fourth of July--I felt a familiar but unique peace, and joy, that my life is what it is. Blessed. A catalyst for growth and change amidst sacrifice and occasional (though hopefully someday, regular) self-denial. And a life spent with an amazing husband who puts love into action without so much as a thought.

For the past few months I've felt a weariness in my calling. Yet over the past few days, I've felt renewal. It came at a cost, yes. Maybe it always does.

Nope, not the day I expected to have. Not at all. In some ways it was better. At the very least, it was important. Jesus blessed my heart and further revealed the magic of motherhood and the blessing of marriage, all in the simple act of Kevin and I tending to our sick little girl when we ought to have been celebrating with pomp and circumstance.

{And there could not have been anything cuter than Kaitlyn eagerly telling her siblings the next morning about her escapades the night before. They all listened with rapt attention of course. Kaitlyn was the hero of the day. Adorable.}

Now to replenish my Febreze supply.

To blog or not to blog

Well folks, I decided NOT to move to Wordpress, and instead went with a new blog design on Blogger. I've been blogging here for several years now so I suppose I may as well stick around. :)

I've been so frustrated with my little piece of the web lately. I haven't really wanted to write, and I finally realized it was in large part because my blog was so hideous! I really didn't want to drop a bunch of money for a new design (since, at this point anyway, my blog doesn't generate any income), so after hours...and hours...and hours of scouring the internet, and learning some code, I have a new design that I'm pretty happy with for now.

So. Blogging. I have gone back and forth about the role that blogging and social media ought to play in my life. If you blog yourself, you know that it is time consuming. Sometimes it is downright frustrating (does anyone else have a miserable time moving photos around?). It makes you, by default, a huge nerd in "real life" circles. (What? Not everyone reads blogs?) On more than one occasion I have questioned if it is a waste of time, if I am simply adding to the noise of life that is better lived in quiet, private reflection rather than public ponderings.

I know why I began blogging. Just to keep track of our adoption. To keep family and friends updated on our process.

But then I fell in love.

I remember as a small child having a spiral-bound notebook with a unicorn on the cover. (If you didn't know I was a product of the '80s before, you know now.) Even then I loved the written word. Not only did I spend a good portion of my time lost in a good book, I also penned childish poems, adventure-filled short stories, and excited letters to pen pals. Many years later, when Kevin and I were dating, we would exchange emails often. Long emails. Filled with thoughts and hopes and convictions and dreams. Even though we lived in the same small college town and saw one another several times throughout the week.

The pen (or computer), and I, have long been friends. This explains part of my passion for blogging, part of why I don't want to give it up. When I am disciplined and therefore regularly engaging with it, blogging is incredibly therapeutic and energizing for me. It is but a humble hobby, but it is humbly mine.

Recently I was part of a discussion on social media and its effect on society. People wondered if we are somehow becoming engaged in LESS meaningful relationships because of the breadth of our networks. Perhaps. Or maybe not. I couldn't help but share that some of my dearest friends are friends because of blogging. These are friendships of depth. Yet people I would probably not know had it not been for our respective blogs.

Whatever people think of social networking, the fact remains that my generation, and the generations to follow, are plugged in. Like any good thing, this should be handled with care. I am learning to embrace my inner (outer?) nerd and accept the fact that, well, I love blogging. My life has been impacted and touched by the precious words of people from all over the world. I won't deny that.

And so my blog isn't going anywhere. I will continue to share my heart and my life here at just showing up. That is really how it all began anyway. Showing up. Being present. Embracing life, in all its messy, pain-filled and joyous glory.

It would seem that the scrawlings of a little girl and the hopes of a love-struck young woman have simply found another manifestation, a new voice.

So I shall write. And maybe you'll read.

Either way, I'll be here.