Two of my favorite things

Mary Lu and Oreos.

There is a story behind this picture.

We were at the annual Ethiopian adoptive families picnic several weeks ago.

A sweet little friend of ours offered to keep her eye on Mary Lu while I went and got myself some dessert (not too far away--I could still see Mary from where I was.)

When I returned, this was how I found Mary.

Attempting to devour an Oreo.

Because apparently our friend had decided that Mary needed a cookie, too.

And I must be "that mom", because instead of immediately taking the cookie away, I grabbed my camera to take some pictures.

The funny thing is, this same sweet friend of ours was plying all of my kids with cookies all afternoon long.  After she'd doled them all out, she'd go back for another handful.  When we were leaving, she made sure to hand out a bunch more.  For the road.  SO AWESOME.  Junk food really ought to be standard issue for kids in the summertime, don't you think?

I'm fairly certain that Mary Lu is our youngest to have indulged in an Oreo.  She seemed to like it.  Which is no surprise, because I really like them too!

Bliss

My three oldest are off at their one-day-a-week public school program.  Which means I only have my two youngest with me at home today.

I've never had just two kids before.  Ever.

And I need to tell you, having only TWO KIDS at home is CRAZY!

Crazy as in:

super quiet, laid back, I-could-get-used-to-this crazy.

All I need is a Pina Colada with a little umbrella.

The minute we hit the door after dropping off the bigger kids, Kaitlyn ran downstairs to play.  Mary began attacking a pile of baby toys.  Kevin's parents are in town and at one point they took the two girls for a walk, and it was just ME in my house!  Just plain nuts, I tell you.

I can already tell that Thursdays around here are going to be niiiiiiiiiiice.

And that I need to add Pina Colada mix and rum to my shopping list.

And now for the resolution

We had a big meeting early this morning with our social worker and her supervisor.

I was really nervous going into it.

Remember when I told you about my confrontational phone call?

Well, that phone call had to do with our adoption homestudy, and at the last minute (as in, after our social worker approved and signed it), a higher-up at our homestudy agency (not our social worker) was concerned about us adopting because we already have five children, and because we homeschool, and we're wanting to be approved for the adoption of two children with "mild to moderate medical needs".  This particular agency primarily places healthy infants, or so I'm told, and they don't see a lot of families pursuing children with medical needs.  This is a whole other can of worms that maybe, eventually, I'll explore further on here.  But probably not until after our adoption is complete.  :)

The upshot of the phone call was this: a supervisor had to come and talk to us, maybe we'd only be approved for up to ONE child, how can we possibly pay enough attention to all of our kids, how are we able to homeschool our five kids, and why did we feel the need to do a medical needs adoption?

This of course led to a very stress-filled week for me.  I am a worrier by nature--as laid back as I am, this is definitely a strange and rather annoying quirk of mine--but I tried ever so hard not to obsess or fret too much about it.  Mostly I succeeded, though I did have my moments.

By last night though I was worrying again--not so much about the outcome, but about having to sit in a meeting and defend myself and our values.  Would they believe me if I said that for us, homeschooling is LESS work-intensive than putting our kids into public school?  Would they believe me if I told them that my children receive no shortage of attention from me, Kevin, or their siblings?  That a typical day in our home is quiet and calm?  That sometimes I can even sneak a nap in? 

SO, this morning we were up bright and early (6 am!  That is SO EARLY for me!) for our eight-o'clock meeting.  Shower, get dressed, get kids dressed, feed kids breakfast, put on some makeup, sweep up crumbs until there is a knock on the door.  Oh how I was dreading the knock.

But you know what?  The supervisor was really nice.  Right off the bat she said she wasn't here to judge us or critique us.  She wanted to hear our story, and was totally supportive and acted impressed.  We were apparently not what she expected to find when she arrived at the home of a family with five children ages six and under.  (Maybe she'd been dreading the knock too!)

There are so very many stereotypes today about larger-than-average families.  (I say "today" because historically speaking, it wasn't so long ago that Western families were generally having several children.)  What is so funny to me is that most of my friends seem to have at least four children, and they all have such lovely homes, and are so organized and put-together.  (Me not as much, but THEY are.)  So where are these stereotypes of the over-worked exhausted mom with a filthy house and loud, misbehaved children coming from?  I honestly don't know.  My life feels chaotic sometimes, my house gets messy sometimes, but I hear these same things from single friends with graduate degrees working in well-paying jobs that they love.

Nope, I really don't know why it is a base assumption that a family with five children is automatically always a hotbed of chaos and disorder.  I do a better job of cleaning my house now than I did when I only had ONE child.  Go figure.  (This may be more of an indicator of my past housekeeping skills being TERRIBLE.  But you get the point.)

Hopefully today we were able to demonstrate that not all large-ish families are neglecting their ragamuffin-ish, foul-word-spewing children.  :)  Well, from my perspective anyway.  There ARE people who believe that you CAN'T properly parent/raise five+ children, but I'm clearly not one of those people.

What alllllllllllllllllllllll of this means is that our completed homestudy was finally signed today, and I hope we'll be signing placement agreements soon.  We sent our completed dossier to AAI today as well.  We are so dang excited and I'm so anxious to share more with you about our adoption.  But I want to wait until we've signed the papers, because nothing is official yet, and I don't like the idea of divulging information about specific children who I literally have no claims to.

I will say that this will surely be our last adoption for quite some time.  It feels strange to say that, but it's probably true.  I am envisioning the adjustment period and imagining that it is going to be HARD.  And yet I cannot wait to see God's hand in all of it.  I have such peace about this being our last "in the foreseeable future" adoption.  When we brought our boys home, we KNEW we'd be back to Ethiopia to adopt again.  We simply knew.  And we knew it wouldn't be TOO long after.  This time, though, I'm very aware that it may be our last Ethiopian adoption.  I feel like our family will be "adoption complete" for now.  (I say "adoption complete" because God could always choose to bless us with another biological child, and we remain open to that, although of course in my human wisdom I hope that doesn't transpire for some time.)

I feel nervous and thrilled and awestruck all at once, so grateful that our paperwork is finally all in and that we are once and for all approved to adopt up to two waiting children with medical needs from Ethiopia, in the state of Colorado.

God is so much bigger than my plans or anyone else's thoughts or views.  He turned a horribly stressful situation today into something positive.  It felt good to have a professional come into my home and act impressed and like we generally have our act together--when she was initially assuming the opposite.  Beginning an adoption feels so daunting, and really it SHOULD feel daunting because it's a huge undertaking with lots of variables and unknowns.  So it helps to have a vote of confidence, and I think God knew I needed that today.

So.  Homestudy done.  Showed we're not too disorganized to have more children.  Dossier mailed. 

Did absolutely nothing for the remainder of the day. 

But still a productive day overall, I'd say!

Just taking a break...

from doing some MAJOR clearing out of the kids' toys.  OH.MY.GOODNESS.  It is insane.  INSANE I tell you.  SOoooooo much JUNK.  Ratty Well-loved stuffed animals.  Itty bitty blood-pressure-inducing toys scattered all around.  I have a HUGE bag of stuff for the ARC to pick up--and I feel horrible for whatever employee has to sift through it all.  (And I'm trying to keep the bag away from Kevin, who is worse than the kids about getting rid of stuff.  He said seeing what's in there makes him "sad."  Funny, because for months now he's been complaining and saying we need to get rid of the toys.) 

At any rate, I just wanted to let you all know where I am today, in case I never do re-emerge from the mountains upon mountains of toys in my home.  You'll know to look for me under a huge pile of Legos.  Oh, and could someone PLEASE tell me that I'm not the only one who finds old, empty soda cups and fruit snack wrappers IN their kids' closet????!!!

And not to worry--the Barbies and Barbie house that sweet Mary Lu is destroying playing with in the above picture are NOT going to the ARC.  We rather like the Barbies with their tanned skin and golden blond hair and slinky little dresses.  Ahem.  Let me rephrase that before I get a slew of angry anti-Barbie comments: we like Barbie, but not necessarily the messages Mattel is trying to send us about Barbie.  Don't believe me that you can play Barbies without buying into the hype?  Well, see that dumptruck in the background?  My kids like pushing Barbie around in it.  We MUST be counteracting any negative Mattel-isms, because instead of Barbie sitting around in her fancy slippers watching her flat screen TV, she's riding around in a bulldozer.  We're just keepin' it real around here, because that's how we, and apparently Barbie, roll.

Now back to the toys!

Boots no more

I've referred many a time to Kaitlyn's beloved yellow rainboots.

She's worn them all summer.

To the store, to church, pretty much everywhere.

The only problem is, her feet started getting all cracked and yucky from wearing them in the heat with no socks.

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

SO, I have had to put a stop to the boot-wearing for now.  In colder months when she can wear socks with them--and not sweat a bunch--we can revisit her favorite clothing item.  (She has horribly sensitive skin and is sensitive to the heat too, so it's no surprise that her feet didn't react very well.)

To be honest it is actually a little sad.  The other day she went to put them on and I had to remind her that she can't wear them anymore right now.

{She was so bummed.}

Kevin and the other kids had, in fact, even started calling her "Boots".  As a nickname.

Because, the girl loves her boots.

Too bad the mom doesn't love the cracked, blistered, bleeding feet that come with them.

None of my children are, thankfully, obsessed with clothing or their appearance.  But Kaitlyn loved those boots.

And I'm posting about it, not because I think anyone cares, but because I want US to remember the summer of the boots.

Little ones grow so fast, and sometimes the littlest things make for the best memories.  That's part of why I love having a blog!

So I'm blogging about Kaitlyn and her boots today.  I'll miss the sound of her clunking around, and the look of shorts + a tanktop + rainboots, and the beaming-with-pride she did when she wore those things.

Goodbye for now, boots.

We'll see you, and some socks, in a few months!

Yes, I'm laughing AT you

Sometimes I just laugh.  Really, really hard.

Not necessarily WITH my kids...but AT them.

I know, that is so mean, right?

There are two churches on our street that I can literally see out my window.  Both obviously in walking distance.  One of them has these neighborhood fun day things in the warmer months--BBQ'd hotdogs and hamburgers, the fire truck usually comes by, there's a bouncehouse...and face painting.  A smiling elderly man comes by our house and delivers a flyer anytime there's an event.

Kevin has taken the kids over to this two or three times.  Yours truly however has yet to attend.

Why, you ask?

Why do I make my poor, defenseless husband play the single dad while I hide stay at home?

Honestly, and I KNOW you are going to think this is RIDICULOUS...

I just don't want to have to go and make small talk.

There.
I said it.

The proverbial antisocial cat is out of the proverbial antisocial bag.

We don't attend that church, likely never will, and I don't know anyone there.  So attending their event makes me feel all socially anxious and I just refuse to go.  Free food or not.  Our family stands out--no WAY we could just blend in amongst the other attenders--and I just don't want to spend my precious Saturday explaining why we have so many children, why we adopted, or how I'm old enough to have kids in the first place.

Please don't get me wrong, the people there have always been more than nice to Kevin and the kids, I just don't want to go.  Every time they have an event, Kevin attempts to coerce me to go along.  This last time, he said he was embarrassed to always have the kids by himself, and no wife.  Still I refused.  I'm stubborn like that.

Back to laughing at my kids.

A few weeks ago, Kevin took them over there for the usual hoopla.  As you can see, they got their faces painted.

As you can also see, Biniam looks  like an old man with a huge white mustache and a sickly orange hue to his cheeks.  Yosef looks hilarious too.

And the girls look like they're ready for Prom 1985.  (Oh looky there, you can see me in the background stuffing my face.  See, you can laugh at ME, too!)

They all came trudging into the house after spending HOURS over there.  HOURS, people.

"How was it?" I asked.

That was when:

Anna burst into tears, upset that some boy there had smacked her on the back and made a mean face (note the smudged face paint on her cheek), 

Yosef proceeded to grumble about how he left his fire station pencil on the table AND about how he didn't get to finish his food because a bunch of flies landed on it,

Biniam eagerly showed me his facepaint and asked if I liked it, all the while making repulsive tiger faces, and

Kaitlyn handed me a melty piece of cheese she'd been clutching (probably a Kraft single), saying she'd brought it home for me to eat.

And that's when I began laughing.  At every.single.one.of.my.big.kids. 

It was beyond hilarious.

The painted faces...disgruntled attitudes...melty cheese...it was all just too much. 

Kids are funny.  Really, really funny. 

And if you never laugh at them, you may want to try it every now and again.  Because you're really missing out!

Con to the front

Yesterday something really crummy happened.  I'm afraid I can't go into it on here right now--though down the road I definitely will.  (NOT trying to be cryptic, I promise.  But this is a public blog, so I can only say so much.  For now.  I'm already envisioning a future rant on the subject.)

As a result of said crumminess, my entire day felt derailed.  I hate that!  I went from lazily laying on the floor, reading library books about archaeologists to my kids, to being really frustrated and upset about something that is out of my control.  All because of a telephone call.  Which just happened to tap into all my feelings and thoughts on, well, everything in my life, really. 

And it involved confrontation.

I despise confrontation.

I have ALWAYS despised confrontation.

At any given point in my life, I have done whatever it takes to avoid confrontation.  Anything.  Because during a confrontation, I get very uncomfortable, grow very anxious, my throat starts feeling tight and I have to expend large amounts of energy to fight the hot tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. 

You see, I HATE to cry.  I don't cry often, and I NEVER cry in public.  I don't however mind other people crying, not in the least.  It doesn't make me uncomfortable and it demonstrates vulnerability.  But as for ME, I'm just an ugly crier and once I get going, it is oh so hard to stop.  And then I wind up with a headache for the rest of the day.  Complete with red, puffy eyes.  No thanks.

Anyway, this morning on the phone, I was on the verge of crying for much of the conversation.  Not because I was sad or had hurt feelings, but because I was upset, and stinking mad, and felt as if a great injustice were being done.  AND because I found myself smack-dab in the midst of a confrontation.

Somehow though I was able to remain calm and firm and say the things I wanted to say.  Even the hard things, that felt confrontation-ish.  I felt like I got to advocate a little for something I'm passionate about.  It wasn't a happy conversation, but I was polite.  And honest.  Honest about what I thought.

I'm generally what someone could classify as a "relatively nice person."  In junior high, my friends used to tease me and say that if anyone were ever to call me a dork, I would probably just smile and cheerfully reply, "Okay!"  There's probably some truth to that.  (With the caveat that I have a mean-looking resting face, am hard to get to know, and some people think I'm stuck up when they meet me.)  But as a general rule, I don't rock the boat.  I keep a low profile and go with the flow.  I have a few strong opinions and hold some convictions pretty tightly, but I don't usually broadcast that stuff or make it an issue.  I live and let live.  This has, on occasion, led to me being a bit of a doormat.  I tend to think of great things to say AFTER the fact--but I know myself well enough to know that I would not have had the courage to say them at the time, even if they HAD come to mind.

Let it be known that I'm really quite happy to go through life this way.  No need to have major confrontations or bluster around telling people what-for.  I'll leave that to others.  I DO like to always have a few friends of this sort around, because they intrigue me and I, the consummate wimp, need some gutsy-ness in my life.

But every once in awhile, like yesterday, confrontation cannot be avoided.  And I find myself having to stick up for me and mine, tight throat and all.  It was awkward, left me feeling upset the rest of the day, and I didn't get half the things done I'd hoped to.  (Yes, confrontation is so stressful for me that I'm apparently rendered incapable of doing housework.  Perhaps I should be grateful that this happened!)  That being said, I'm glad I have the ability to have tough conversations when I need to.  I was forced to face one of my weaknesses head on, and I did it.  I'm hoping and praying that the outcome is good--I'll know in a week.

Oh and for the record, as of last night, I still couldn't fully shake the yuckiness of the whole fiasco.  I'm hoping that today is a new day, and that there isn't a lingering ick-factor casting a pall over my week.  I honestly don't think I could ever get used to confrontation, no matter how often I had to face it.  Part of that is surely due to my sometimes-unhealthy desire to be liked. 

But that is an issue for another blogpost. 

Today's was about my aversion to confrontation, remember?

One neurotic tendency at a time, folks.

Because if I ran out, what would I possibly have to blog about?

Big picture vs. little picture

Lately I've felt stuck.  In a parenting rut.  Overwhelmed by the mundane, everyday-ish mothering tasks like coercing kids to pick up after themselves, enforcing rules like no hitting or whining, and attempting to teach good table manners.  I've found myself frustrated more often than not at the kids, and at myself, feeling like nothing seems to work the way I want it to.  My energies all seem tied up in the small stuff which, while small, when it's all smooshed together, feels HUGE.

Then it occurred to me yesterday afternoon (sometime between cleaning my fridge and making dinner) that I've utterly lost sight of what I shall call the big parenting picture.  Somewhere along the way I've sacrificed the impartation of virtues and Godly direction for nitpicking and nagging about the little things.  I'm missing the forest for the trees.  In paying so much attention to the small stuff, I've crowded out the more important big things that probably contribute in a good way to the little things.  Hmmm.

I'm still in the midst of processing all of this, but I definitely want to make a more concerted effort to, say, teach my children about contentment, or kindness, vs. making sure I'm giving a strong enough consequence for disrespecting a sibling.  Both are necessary, but I've really been neglecting the former, and spending way too much time on the latter.

Life around here has, as a result, come to feel a bit unbalanced for me.  And it starts with MY heart, and MY relationship with God, and MY control issues.  Not the kids.  They're good kids, with good hearts.  They need guidance and direction and training and definitely consequences, but I feel a little like I've been running on empty with them.  Trying to do it all by myself, leaving little room for God or His work in our lives.  Ugh.  Why do I end up doing this to myself?

As you may know, we're in an adoption process right now--definitely a "big picture" thing.  We have not talked to our kids very much about what is going on--at least, not since things fell through with the children we'd originally hoped to adopt.  Our kids were really bummed out, and we told them that we would still be adopting, we just didn't know who.  And our kids, being kids, have mostly forgotten about the adoption in general.  (Until we drag them to the notary or the downtown police station as we scramble to get our paperwork in order.)  We're now at a place where we're getting a clearer picture of what we'll be doing, but we won't say anything to the kids until we've signed a placement agreement.  There are some "big picture" things involved, and an amazing story of God's hand in all of this, and I can't wait to share it with our kids and with all of you too. 

All of this to say that this process has unfolded to become such a bittersweet yet powerful testimony to me of God working all things together, and of Him using far-from-perfect me to do things I would never have imagined.  I find myself wanting my children to marvel at God's hand in this, and God's providence, to rejoice in the Lord's goodness and to treasure the things that God treasures.  To love those who God loves.  But they need to be taught these things, both in word and in deed, and to see their mom and their dad believing these things and faithfully living them out.

When I see my life through this big picture lens, I feel encouraged and like things have so much more meaning and significance than I have previously attributed them.  I feel a sense of relief, that I DON'T have to control every little thing in our family's life, that if I focus on the important stuff, the smaller things can fall into place.  And as I reflect on how I possibly fell into the smaller picture worldview, I can only guess that I fell for the lie that it's somehow easier.  But of course, it's really not.

Last night I finished up a book that I loved, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller.  SUCH an incredibly timely read for me, as we press forward with our adoption and make decisions and consider how our lives will be altered by the addition of new children to our family.  I'm sure it's all related, but I have found myself over the past several weeks feeling fearful of the unknowns that come with adoption, worrying about how family life will look a year from now, concerned for my current children and how THEY will be affected.  And yet I know in my heart that I am seeing things through a broken lens, a faulty paradigm where I've somehow internalized a few of the world's really stupid ideas.  Donald Miller, in his book, talks about living a good story, and what ultimately makes for a good story.  A safe life with 1.2 kids, a picket fence, a green lawn (now that I wouldn't mind!), and a dog isn't the story I'm wanting to live.  (Even if it were, it's way too late for that!  Ha!)  Instead, I'm living out a story that God has given me to steward and I want to do it well.  He gave me my story for a reason and it will be different from yours, but it's mine, and it is not at all what I expected it to be.  It's so much crazier and much, much better.

But it doesn't work so well when I'm hung up on trivial things or buying into the world's ideas of success or of what parenting should be.  It's ever so subtle, but it's a different way of looking at life.  It feels good to be getting back to the big picture, and really exciting too, because that's where I think about God and His goodness and where I get to see Him in action.

I love these words from Donald's book (apparently we're on a first name basis now):

There is a force resisting the beautiful things in the world, and too many of us are giving in.  The world needs for us to have courage...the world needs for us to write something better.

So.true.  I'm moving towards the big picture, the larger narrative, so I can write something better.  And I'm so, so glad.

First day of homeschool 2010!

Last Monday marked our first official day of homeschool.

I have two Kindergartners, one First Grader, and one Kaitlyn who insists on "doing homeschool" too.  :)  So cute.  (I also have one baby who likes to crawl around and commandeer the other kids' toys while they're occupied.)

The kids woke up to this greeting on the whiteboard in the schoolroom

and little placecards at their seats in the schoolroom with a dish of Mike and Ikes.  (You gotta have candy on the first day of school.  It builds morale.)

But don't worry, they didn't eat them until after their special bagel breakfast.  (We normally have oatmeal every day, so this was a real treat to them.)  We read our daily story out of this Bible, one of our favorites.

We went over some expecations of how the morning would go, and where their schoolbooks are kept (each child has a box on a bookshelf in the schoolroom that contains their workbooks and a set of school supplies.)

Then we dove into Math.  Which they LOVED.  And I finally had to pull them away.  Yosef would have worked all day--turns out the kid has great handwriting, loves numbers, and is awesome at Math.  (He does NOT get this from me.)

We also did some History.  We're studying Ancient History this year, using the Story of The World text and activity book (I still need to order the encyclopedia we'll be using), and we'll be reading lots of library books that correspond with what we're studying.  This particular day, the kids learned about what historians and archaeologists do, and how they each contribute to the study of History.  (This may sound boring, but my kids thought it was so cool.)

Our week was a bit derailed by my 24-hour-stomach-flu and a lab visit, but it feels good to have begun.  My kids LOVE homeschool and are super duper enthusiastic about it.  (Picture me on Tuesday morning, doubled over in stomach pain, shivering with chills under a blanket, and Yosef begging over and over to do school.  They are nothing if not committed!)

Homeschooling, for me, is about simply being a mom and encouraing my children to discover and use the unique gifts that God has given them.  Academics is a means I suppose, but not an end.  There is a tendency to think that way and get caught up in curriculum choices and how to get your child to write the number two correctly, but I want to continually remind myself that I am ultimately raising children to be women and men of God, to spend their lives serving Him in the way that He calls them.  We are born with brains and with the capacity to learn, each and every one of us, and I long to nurture that in my children.  So, in our family, this happens best right now in the context of a homeschool.  We learn side by side (yes, even Mom!), over breakfast, in the schoolroom, in the kitchen, in the car.  And the best learning doesn't usually happen when a child is hunched over a workbook.  It happens in spontaneous conversation during lunch, or after comforting a teary-eyed little one sitting on their bed. 

So I'm really excited about the year, and about the confidence-building that comes with learning new skills.  I can't wait to take my kids to the museum to see some Egyptian mummies, or to spend the day observing and marvelling at the gorillas at the zoo.  We love learning and good books and yes, being at home.  There will be captivating literature to read and cookies to bake and catechism to learn.  Yay for a fresh start to school!

The continuing saga of Mary Lu

This picture was taken up at Glass Lake, in the Rocky Mountain National Park, outside of Estes Park, Colorado.  SO beautiful and serene.  I could have sat there for hours, I think.

I know I've done my share of medical posts lately, but I did want to update you all on our little peanut and her (lack of) weight gain.

The pediatrician called this morning because he got the lab results from Wednesday's bloodwork.

And, guess what?  Sure enough, her hormone level that had appeared woefully low before is now PERFECTLY NORMAL.  Go figure.

All of her other results were normal, too, except for something new they'd tested this time (related to Human Growth Hormone), which was low.  Our doctor didn't know what to make of this, and just like with the other test it may not mean anything...but he said I should make that appointment with the pediatric endocrinologist and see what she says.  I meant to call today, but didn't, so I'll call Monday.  (I had some major inertia today.  Was it because I was still so exhausted from yesterday?  Was it because of all my trips to the hospital lab?  Maybe a combination?)

And so that's where we're at.  She's feeling much better (over the past month she got sick TWICE, poor thing) and seems to be more open to solid foods as a result.  My goal each day is to have her eat some multigrain Cheerios, six ounces of whole-fat yogurt, and either pureed something-or-other with olive oil or butter OR baby food with butter mixed in.  Even if it's not the whole jar.  This is all she's really interested in at this point, and so I feel like this is a reasonable goal.  She of course still LOVES nursing and is up for that ANY ol' time.  Even when we're in TJ Maxx. 

{Don't think I'm too cool to find an empty aisle and plop down on the floor to feed my baby.  And if you were in the Littleton TJ Maxx today, that is precisely what you saw me doing.  Next time, come and say hi!  I'd be happy to chat.  Better yet, you can buy me some stuff there, because I really love that store.}

I'm a bit tired of the whole diagnosing-the-baby phase...ready to find some answers and just MOVE ON. 

I'm glad Mary's thyroid and related hormones are A-OK.  Hoping her HGH levels are actually okay too.  REALLY hoping any future sweat tests come back NEGATIVE for CF.   

Will there EVER come a time when I don't worry about my little ones?

Sadly, probably not.

Interestingly, I don't actually mind trips to the lab or doctor's visits too terribly much.  (Provided that I'm not needing my baby to give a urine sample.  Then I just plain want to scream.  At Miley Cyrus et al.)  They don't really stress me out, my kids are generally pretty great about these types of outings (our homelife must be so incredibly mundane that a lab excursion is an event to rejoice over), and I feel like I'm accomplishing something.

The hard part is the waiting and the wondering.  While I don't mind a trip to the doctor, I don't want my baby girl to be sick.  And I'm supposed to get what I want, right?  :)

Riiggggght. 

It's a good exercise in living for today, and in enjoying the moment, and in not worrying about tomorrow.  Mary Lu is happy and thriving and active today, and I get to kiss her sweet toes and make her laugh.  Sometimes I don't know she's watching me, and I look up and there she is, all smiles for her mama.  Which means today is a great day for Mary Lu, and for me, and it's actually not a bad way to live.  I should make an effort to think this way more often, about more things.

Life lessons from an itty bitty 10-month-old.

No one else I'd rather learn from, I don't think.

I love being a mama.

Yesterday...

was orientation at my kids' homeschool co-op program they attend.  It was so surreal seeing all THREE of my oldest at school--especially during PE, which they all have together.  (That's my boys in their Kindergarten class, above.  Tony is sitting between Yosef and Biniam, and Tony's sister Addie is there next to Biniam.  They are dear friends of ours and I'm so glad my boys have them in their class!)

There's Anna in her music/Spanish class--taught by my wonderful friend Angela!  (Who can sing a mean Spanish song.  Who knew she was holding out on us all this time?)

Here are all three of my big kids in their PE class together.  Don't look now, but Kaitlyn's in the photo too.  She'd been begging allllll morning to sit next to Anna in her classes, and so finally in the last class of the day I said she could.  Which she did.  In her rainboots.  Spilling almonds all over the floor.

The morning completely wiped me out.  I had Kaitlyn and Mary with me too, and it made for a chaotic few hours.  I was jumping back and forth between Yosef and Biniam's Kindergarten class, and Anna's various First Grade classes (she and the rest of the first graders go from class to class.)  All while wearing a sleepy baby in an Ergo and with a three-year-old clunking around in rainboots behind me.  Who may or may not have taken off when I was retreiving Anna's backpack that she left behind in her very first class at one point, but thankfully was quickly found by someone--who was laughing when she told me that Kaitlyn wasn't panicked or afraid at all, just self-confidently marching down the hall.  In her boots.  Um, yeah, that's Kaitlyn.  Sheesh.

But, yes, a good day.  Lunch at the park afterwards with good friends and then home to relax before meeting some other girlfriends for ice cream later that evening.  (Kid-free, no less!)  Home at 10:30 pm, just in time to watch something on DVD with Kevin and criticize various things in the latest issue of Adoptive Families magazine.

Tomorrow I have to make it to the thrift store to get some back to school clothes for the kids.  Otherwise I'm declaring it a day of rest.

And as for today, I have no clue.  Big kids are watching The Lion King, Mary is napping, and I need a shower.  I'm also craving soda at 10 am, so I may need to take care of that at some point.

Happy Friday!

Assorted life updates

This was Mary Lu up in the mountains recently.  Her head is chopped off in the photo because I was working to get her to smile, and I inadvertently held the camera too low.  We'll just pretend I was being artistic.

So.  Various thoughts for the day:

--Mary's labs came back.  All of them were NORMAL, except for one.  Our pediatrician consulted with an endocrinologist yesterday, who didn't think anything was conclusive, but recommended we have the test repeated (thyroid and horomone measurements fluctuate and change), in addition to some other tests.  I'll be calling the endocrinologist tomorrow to make an appointment with her.

--SO, back to Children's Hospital today for another blood draw.  NO urine test required, YAY!  Today was much better too because my friend's daughter was there for a procedure, so we got to meet up and chat for a bit.  She even brought chocolate.  I have wonderful friends.  (And of course I would never wish for my friends' kids, or my kids for that matter, to be at Children's Hospital--but if they need to be there, it's nice when we can all show up on the same day.  :) )

--My three big kids have their first day of school tomorrow.  (We began homeschooling on Monday, but tomorrow they go to their weekly schoolday.)  They are THRILLED.  It's orientation, so I (and Kaitlyn and Mary) will be with them the whole time, and it's just a half-day.  Anna (1st grade) will have several teachers and go from class to class (SUCH a big girl!), and my boys will be starting KINDERGARTEN!  Oh my goodness, I still remember holding them for the very first time in Ethiopia.  Now they are Kindergartners!!!  How did that happen?

--We are making major headway with our Ethiopia adoption.  (What's that?  You didn't KNOW we were adopting again?  That's probably because it's been a crazy process with various twists and turns, and I don't blog about it much.  Because for most of the process, I honestly had no clue what was going on or what we were gonna do.  There was sadness over things that didn't work out, things far beyond our control.)  But God is doing big things and I'm pretty darn excited about it all.

--I had this really random 24-hour-ish flu-type thing that I'm pretty much over now (thank GOODNESS).  I caught it from sweet, precious Mary Lu Lu--looking at her, you'd NEVER guess that she would inflict such misery on her mother.  But miserable I was.  HORRIBLE stomach pain, a fever for goodness' sakes, yuck.  I would not have survived yesterday without having a six-year-old daughter who can make everyone lunch AND bring me Mary when she wakes up from her nap, or a five-year-old son who happily brings his mama 7-Up or water. 

--A dear, dear friend from California, Andy, is in Denver on business and we got to spend the morning with him!  Kevin picked him up from his hotel and they went to breakfast (I wasn't sure how my day was going to go health-wise so I stayed home with the kids), and then came back here for a bit.  It was SO great to see him, and I really wish Jeannett and their sweet kids could've been here too.

Well I think that's all, friends.  Right now I'm basically knee-deep in:

the start of a school year
an adoption process
and Mary's health issues.

Each of those alone seems enough to keep me busy and on my toes, but really, things are going quite well.  Kids are happy.  We're finding our school-year groove.  I'm genuinely excited about our adoption for the first time in months.  I worry about Mary Lu, but am so very grateful for good doctors and medical care, and that we're taking action and hopefully working towards some answers.  I hope nothing is actually wrong, but if it is, we're in good hands.  Not to mention, when life is so incredibly full, and your baby is so happy and cute and giggles at you throughout the day, ultimately...no matter what health issue she may face...I can say that things are good.

The husband and the wife

I love this guy.

This self-portrait of us was taken up in the mountains several days ago.

Doesn't matter what we're doing, we have a good time. 

{Reminds me of one of our favorite lines EVER from A Mighty Wind.  "If you punched a hole in them, you'd have a good time."  Hahahaha.  I know, it's not really funny if you don't know the context.  And if you haven't seen Christopher Guest's movies, you have to.  You just do.}

Lately I've been thinking about how it's really, really nice to be on this here life journey with somebody.  I spend a lot of time bouncing ideas off of Kevin (who is generally more than happy to listen and offer input when I want it).  We talk about parenting and current events and various other random stuff that no one in the world probably cares about but us.  :)  And when something isn't going well...an adoption, or an issue with one of our kids...I am not alone.  I feel so blessed.

I always knew that I wanted to get married someday.  I didn't necessarily envision becoming a wife at age 20--I assumed it would be later--but then I met Kevin, and visions of being his young bride began taking up space in my mind.  :)  And, I'm really glad.  No stage of my married life would have been better spent unmarried.  Not one.  I think God gives each of us a role to fill, and for some that is the role of wife and mother.  That's obviously what I've been given to do and live out.  It's pretty much all I do, and I'm okay with that.  Most days, it feels like plenty!

In all fairness, I WILL admit that being a mother is more work than I thought it would be.  :)  Not even so much physical work, but emotional work.  Mental effort.  Working through problems and solutions.  Trying to be intentional.  Loving even when I'm tired.  Choosing to be patient.  Doing everything in my power to place my trust in God, even when I want to be in control and have all the answers.  Being a "wife", on the other hand, doesn't seem like a ton of work, in and of itself, but I think it's all connected to the "mother" part.  Doing the work of a mother is ultimately doing the work of a wife, and vice versa.  Becoming a mom made me a much, much better wife.  Becoming a mom to many has made me a better wife, for that matter.

And, I really like being Kevin's wife.  He makes me happy.  And he's a good guy.  I suppose I primarily think of myself as a mom, because that is what takes up most of my time.  But I'm a wife too, and I have a husband who is pretty great.  And we took our picture up in the mountains and there aren't even any little ones in it, save for the top of Mary's head in the Ergo.  A monumental occasion, I think!

So I'm documenting it here.  Us.  In the beautiful Rocky Mountains.  And if all you saw was this photo, you'd never really know that there were a bunch of kids at our feet, exploring the woods and searching for bears.

Of samples and Miley

Today was a really, really, REALLY longgggggg day.  (I know, Mary looks kinda like an alien in this picture. She was all blurry for some reason.  Well, the reason would be that I wasn't holding the camera still.  Whatever.)

I got up this morning and decided to give the ol' bag another try.

Waited and waited and waited some more.  But when Mary finally peed, it leaked out of the bag.  Again.

(If you didn't read my previous post, you are hopelessly and utterly lost by now.  Oh and I'm sorry, but I'm talking about peepee.  Go back and read the post.  Or, just know that it's virtually impossible to get a urine sample from a baby girl.  There, now you're all caught up.)

Sooooo, I packed up a lunch for my other four kids, instructed each of them to grab their special tote bag and choose some toys and books to bring along, and set out for the hospital.  I vowed that we WOULD NOT LEAVE until Mary had given a successful sample.

We arrived at the hospital lab around 12:30.  Someone put yet another bag on Mary right away.  Then we waited.  And waited some more.  Mary had some baby food.  Eventually the other kids got hungry so we went over to the cafeteria/eating area for them to have their lunch.  I debated whether or not to get something for myself, thinking maybe I could just hold out until we got home (how long would we really be there, anyway?)...but opted to buy myself a salad.  'Twas a good thing, as it turned out.

{I will stop here to say that the best part of our day at Children's was running into a friend who works there!  It was so nice to see a familiar face and explain the "bag dilemma" to a nurse who understands.  Plus, I really like this friend and rarely get to see her.}

Anyway, after my friend left to go back to work, I decided to check Mary's bag.  Um, yeah, she'd finally peed...but IT HAD LEAKED OUT INTO THE DIAPER.  Again.  Oh my goodness.  Soooo incredibly frustrating.  As I was on my cell phone venting to Kevin about this latest leak, I suddenly noticed that there WAS some sort of liquid in the bag.  And all up her diaper.  And on her shorts.  Uh, yeah.  Apparently Mary's current illness (she's had a fever since yesterday) involves some intestinal issues that I did NOT see coming.

So with a "I've gotta go, Mary just pooped everywhere and it's diarrhea and I need to go clean her up and this is the worst day ever, bye", I told all the kids to throw their trash away, grab their bags (filled to the brim with the usual assortment of ratty stuffed animals and half-dressed Barbies), and we made a beeline for the "family restroom" near the lab.  I was able to get Mary all cleaned up (while all of my other kids plugged their noses, and also used the bathroom themselves--we are so efficient), and then we went back to the lab.  A new guy was at the desk.  I told him my sob story (and while I wasn't ACTUALLY sobbing, I was definitely on the brink) and he was SO NICE, and really seemed to care.  He got us into a room, a new lady came in to actually put the bag on, and she was so frustrated on my behalf and said she wondered who'd done the bag the previous times, that they probably didn't know how to put it on etc.  She took great care to get it in just the right spot.  This time I actually felt a bit hopeful. 

Back to the waiting room.  We waited and waited.  The kids played.  Watched TV.  I nursed Mary a bunch and waited some more.  She fell asleep laying on me...which was so incredibly sweet.  That doesn't happen too often these days.

And as she was laying there...I suddenly felt something warm...and I looked down...

And there was pee!  IN THE BAG!  I immediately jumped up in excitement and dashed over to the counter.  (I was SO beyond caring if anyone thought I was a lunatic at that point.  And the three teenage boys in the room at the time probably did.  I dare THEM to spend two days trying to get a urine sample from a baby girl, and not jump for joy when it finally happens.)

"She WENT!  It's in the bag!" I said excitedly to my pal at the desk.  And, God bless him, he acted just as excited as I felt.  He rushed into the room, had someone come in and help us, and lo and behold, Mary Heldt's urine was sent to be resulted this afternoon.

Whew.  I.am.beat.

I have to tell you that we were at Denver Children's Hospital for over FOUR HOURS today.  And I also have to tell you that my other four kids were absolute ANGELS.  No complaining.  No fighting.  No whining.  They were INCREDIBLE.  It was literally no extra work to have them along with me, and they actually had a really good time.  They loved watching TV (is there ANYthing more ridiculous than those shows on the Disney Channel?  SO obnoxious!  But it kept the kiddies happy, so I won't complain.  In this post, anyway.) and also enjoyed their toys.  When I told them we were going to be spending some time at the hospital today, they were happy to go.  Happy to be with their little sister.  Excited for her when she finally went pee in the bag.  I was so proud of them.  So, so very proud.

But not as proud as I was when that dang bag finally caught my baby's urine.  I was proud of Mary, proud of myself, and darn proud of the two lab employees who made it happen.  I honestly could have kissed them. 

My goal tomorrow? 

To NOT go to Children's Hospital.  Two days in a row is plenty.  Two days of Miley Cyrus is MORE than plenty.

Right now though it's time to relax and watch a TV show on DVD with my husband.  Have a great weekend!

Not what I wanted to hear

Yesterday Mary Lu had her weight check.

To see if she had gained any weight since her last visit.

And...she weighed LESS.  She LOST weight.

Ugh.

I feel so sad and frustrated.

My ten-month-old weighs less than she did at SIX months.

So we ended up over at Children's Hospital here in Denver to run some tests.  Some of the results I should have today, but unfortunately we weren't able to get a good urine sample so I'll have to go BACK to the hospital so they can try again.

Obviously I was hoping for better news.  I was hoping to see that she'd gained some weight, even if only an ounce or two.  But, no.

To be honest I feel a bit defeated.  I was so tired after yesterday's medical appointments--I didn't leave the hospital until 5:45 pm...and stopped for greasy pizza on my way home.  'Cause it was that kind of day.  (And don't think that I didn't have several pieces of pizza PLUS two sticks of crazy bread AND a can of soda.  I enjoyed it immensely.  Didn't feel the least bit guilty.  Or care that I ate more than my husband.)

I guess at this point I just want closure.  I want to know why my baby can't seem to maintain her weight.  Most of the time I'm pretty laid back when it comes to this sort of thing (I am so not that person that freaks out if my kid's not on the growth chart, or if they have a fever), but right now I admit I'm a little worried.

There's a condition the doctor suspects she may have (an issue with her kidneys where there's too much acid in her blood, and which she would eventually outgrow), and he's also testing her thyroid and other stuff too.  If everything comes back negative, he'll order a sweat test to rule out Cystic Fibrosis.  (For which she literally has no other symptoms.  Goodness, I hope it's nothing serious.)

Being a mom is so hard sometimes.  We love our little ones so incredibly much and waiting on test results is grueling.

ALL of that being said, Mary is one sweet baby, babbles lots now and loves lifting both of her arms up over her head in the air.  So very cute.  (And of course it goes without saying that she's crawling all over the place and getting into all manner of stuff she shouldn't be.)

For now, I've reattached her little bag and am waiting for her to pee.  (And hoping the bag actually catches the urine this time.  It was an epic fail yesterday.)  Then it's back to the hospital with said bag.

Isn't it funny how in middle-class America you (well, I do anyway) develop this false sense of security with your little ones?  They're not supposed to be sick, or have medical issues, or learning delays, or whatever.  But when else does life work that way?  I just keep thinking about how much I love my sweet baby girl, regardless of any issues she may have been born with.  I know so.very.many. mamas who have sweet children dealing with major medical stuff.  It's apparently part of life.  Some people may escape with a pretty ho-hum, "happy" existence but difficulty is bound to touch some aspect of our time here on earth.  It just is.

In summary: Mary will be okay, we'll be okay, mostly I hate the waiting and wondering, and I'm really, REALLY hoping that she pees soon so we can get that sample to the hospital and be done with the tests (for now, anyway)!  And I'm oh-so-thankful for such great family and friends who pray for us and remain a constant source of encouragement that I can count on.  Not to mention, when you have a baby who grins at you like she is in that photo, who can feel sad or anxious for too long??!!

I'll keep you all updated on whether her bag actually catches the urine what we find out.  Yay for Friday!