And one year ago we saw these sweet, sad faces....
I would never have been able to imagine who the little people in these pictures would become. And who we have become as a family? For that I am most profoundly grateful. I love you little peeps.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
One year ago....and Three Years Ago- Edited to fix links
Three years (and a couple of days) ago, we saw your sweet, sweet face. Here is what we had to say that day... and how it happened...
And one year ago we saw these sweet, sad faces....
I would never have been able to imagine who the little people in these pictures would become. And who we have become as a family? For that I am most profoundly grateful. I love you little peeps.
And one year ago we saw these sweet, sad faces....
I would never have been able to imagine who the little people in these pictures would become. And who we have become as a family? For that I am most profoundly grateful. I love you little peeps.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Motherhood Lesson # 852 That I Wish I Wouldn't Have Learned First Hand
Motherhood Lesson #852 That I Wish I Wouldn't Have Had to Learn First Hand:
When one is diapering a freshly lotioned two year old who is screaming and trying to rub all of the lotion off of his face while one's naked, freshly lotioned three year old jumps onto one's back and begins loudly demanding help with her 'unnawear' and one's freshly lotioned, naked four year old starts leaning on said diapering individual and making increasingly whiny demands for hugs in spite of being asked to wait until said two year old is, in fact, diapered, and the dogs in the kitchen start a barking frenzy that should be reserved for attacking Nazi's but is probably in response to one of the baby rabbits who has taken up residence on the other side of the fence in the backyard, and all of the naked, freshly lotioned children demand an explanation for the riot under their feet, one should refrain from stating one's belief that the barking is in response to a baby bunny, in hopes of avoiding the giant, naked, lotiony pile of crying children that will inevitably result when they all attempt to run down the hall at the same time to see the baby bunny.
That is all.
PS- I dare you to come up with a longer sentence.
When one is diapering a freshly lotioned two year old who is screaming and trying to rub all of the lotion off of his face while one's naked, freshly lotioned three year old jumps onto one's back and begins loudly demanding help with her 'unnawear' and one's freshly lotioned, naked four year old starts leaning on said diapering individual and making increasingly whiny demands for hugs in spite of being asked to wait until said two year old is, in fact, diapered, and the dogs in the kitchen start a barking frenzy that should be reserved for attacking Nazi's but is probably in response to one of the baby rabbits who has taken up residence on the other side of the fence in the backyard, and all of the naked, freshly lotioned children demand an explanation for the riot under their feet, one should refrain from stating one's belief that the barking is in response to a baby bunny, in hopes of avoiding the giant, naked, lotiony pile of crying children that will inevitably result when they all attempt to run down the hall at the same time to see the baby bunny.
That is all.
PS- I dare you to come up with a longer sentence.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Singing the Moon...
An explanation.
Every family has their own language. We all have our inside jokes, our favorite stories.. the things that remind us that we do love each other, and why. To me, these things are almost sacred. Singing the moon is one of those sweet, secret phrases in my family's language. It is one of my two favorites (the other being, "I love you the whole world" if you were wondering).
It started with me singing Meron to sleep every night. She didn't sleep. I mean... seriously didn't sleep. Right after Meron came home, there was a time period of several months in which it took us about 2 hours to get her to fall asleep. She would sing, talk, wiggle, pull her ears, scratch herself and physically hold her eyes open to stay awake. I would hold her and sing lullabies, always starting with a song that Ernie sang on Sesame Street:
"Oh, I'd like to visit the moon, on a rocket ship high in the air.
Yes, I'd like to visit the moon, but I don't think I'd like to stay there.
I would like to look down at the earth from above, but I'd miss all the places and people I love.
So although I might like it for one afternoon, I don't want to live on the moon..."
I remember several times being so tired that I couldn't remember any words but those. I'd sing them over and over for hours before Meron would finally collapse in exhaustion. I'd carefully lay her down, tip toe out of her room and go downstairs to relax. Then, twenty to thirty minutes later, she'd wake up screaming and we'd start the whole process over again. It was awful. I knew she was scared. She had decided that she liked us and was scared that we wouldn't be there when she woke up.
After a while, as soon as I started singing she would relax. She knew I was there. She knew it was safe. She knew I loved her. Things slowly got better. We added new songs to our bedtime repertoire. Hana and Malakai came home, and they learned our songs and our family language.
Now, whenever things are sad or scary or lonely, they ask for me to comfort them the same way Meron started to as soon as she learned to talk- "Can you sing me the moon, mama?" And they know I am here, that their world is safe, and that I love them.
Every family has their own language. We all have our inside jokes, our favorite stories.. the things that remind us that we do love each other, and why. To me, these things are almost sacred. Singing the moon is one of those sweet, secret phrases in my family's language. It is one of my two favorites (the other being, "I love you the whole world" if you were wondering).
It started with me singing Meron to sleep every night. She didn't sleep. I mean... seriously didn't sleep. Right after Meron came home, there was a time period of several months in which it took us about 2 hours to get her to fall asleep. She would sing, talk, wiggle, pull her ears, scratch herself and physically hold her eyes open to stay awake. I would hold her and sing lullabies, always starting with a song that Ernie sang on Sesame Street:
"Oh, I'd like to visit the moon, on a rocket ship high in the air.
Yes, I'd like to visit the moon, but I don't think I'd like to stay there.
I would like to look down at the earth from above, but I'd miss all the places and people I love.
So although I might like it for one afternoon, I don't want to live on the moon..."
I remember several times being so tired that I couldn't remember any words but those. I'd sing them over and over for hours before Meron would finally collapse in exhaustion. I'd carefully lay her down, tip toe out of her room and go downstairs to relax. Then, twenty to thirty minutes later, she'd wake up screaming and we'd start the whole process over again. It was awful. I knew she was scared. She had decided that she liked us and was scared that we wouldn't be there when she woke up.
After a while, as soon as I started singing she would relax. She knew I was there. She knew it was safe. She knew I loved her. Things slowly got better. We added new songs to our bedtime repertoire. Hana and Malakai came home, and they learned our songs and our family language.
Now, whenever things are sad or scary or lonely, they ask for me to comfort them the same way Meron started to as soon as she learned to talk- "Can you sing me the moon, mama?" And they know I am here, that their world is safe, and that I love them.
For the Dads
For theirs:
And mine:
I am truly lucky. And oh so grateful.
Happy father's day to my dad, my grandpa and my husband. I love you all, and am so glad that my son has you for his examples of what it means to be a man.
And mine:
I am truly lucky. And oh so grateful.
Happy father's day to my dad, my grandpa and my husband. I love you all, and am so glad that my son has you for his examples of what it means to be a man.
76 Trombones...
This parade was considerably smaller than that... no bands, just lots of tractors and fire trucks. And lots and lots of candy thrown. Not a bad introduction to parades, especially for the newly truck and tractor obsessed among us...
Monday, June 6, 2011
Malakai Melese
Oh how he has changed...
The first time we met him he spent the entire visit glaring at Nathan from the corner of his eye. He was willing to tolerate my presence as long as I didn't look at him or touch him. The nannies finally just dumped him in my lap, patted him on the head and left me with this little boy who screamed and flailed. He finally was so desperate for comfort that he turned around and hugged me.
He would sit on my lap as long as I didn't move and as long as we were outside. He wouldn't let me take him inside. Or look at him. Or move so much as an inch. And poor Nathan! If he got in Melese's line of sight, Melese started to scream. Like blood curdling, these people are murdering me screams. It didn't get better the second or third time we met.
He spent all of his time carrying as many things as he could hold. He even carried sweets we gave him. When I brought him back to his room, I saw him put them in his bed. My heart literally broke. He was so small and scared and confused and I was just making it worse. I have never felt so guilty as I did when I told the judge that I wanted to adopt him. I knew it would rip away what little peace he had found.. but I also knew that his new found content was just a temporary solution.
He remembered us when we came to bring him home, and he was not pleased. Finally it was time to go. When he was placed on Nathan's lap in the van, he froke out. It.Was.Awful. For all concerned. But as soon as the van started moving he stopped crying and decided that Nathan was his new safety net.
He slept in a big sweaty ball on Nathan's chest for a long time. But slowly, oh so slowly, he began to open up. And at some point, we realized he was funny.. Like really, really funny. And then we realized that he was sweet. And caring and really... so seriously funny.
He still had issues with needing to control everything (who could blame him). For the first couple of weeks he was home, any transition at all was met with anger. Shoes on? That pissed him off. Time to take the shoes off now? Holy cow, the world is ending. I was frequently torn between feeling terrible for him and how insecure he must be feeling and furious because he had yet again bloodied my lip by screaming and flailing and swinging his head around about some minor change.
He was pretty ambivalent about me for a long time, but that is slowly changing. Every step towards attaching was a battle. Nathan was the one who was going to make sure he was safe, not me. Nathan was supposed to comfort him, not me.
He cuddles with me now. He loves to play with my hair and when he is trying to calm himself down he combs it in front of my face so he can blow it away and see me again.
He needs to feel my skin. And even when he is furious with me, he still wants me to pick him up... because he needs me. Finally. And now, I have found that I need him, too.
I love you, little Doot.
Photo credit for the last picture goes to Elz. Want to see some more seriously cute pictures of my babies? Check out her blog: http://www.abrightblot.blogspot.com/
The first time we met him he spent the entire visit glaring at Nathan from the corner of his eye. He was willing to tolerate my presence as long as I didn't look at him or touch him. The nannies finally just dumped him in my lap, patted him on the head and left me with this little boy who screamed and flailed. He finally was so desperate for comfort that he turned around and hugged me.
He would sit on my lap as long as I didn't move and as long as we were outside. He wouldn't let me take him inside. Or look at him. Or move so much as an inch. And poor Nathan! If he got in Melese's line of sight, Melese started to scream. Like blood curdling, these people are murdering me screams. It didn't get better the second or third time we met.
He spent all of his time carrying as many things as he could hold. He even carried sweets we gave him. When I brought him back to his room, I saw him put them in his bed. My heart literally broke. He was so small and scared and confused and I was just making it worse. I have never felt so guilty as I did when I told the judge that I wanted to adopt him. I knew it would rip away what little peace he had found.. but I also knew that his new found content was just a temporary solution.
He remembered us when we came to bring him home, and he was not pleased. Finally it was time to go. When he was placed on Nathan's lap in the van, he froke out. It.Was.Awful. For all concerned. But as soon as the van started moving he stopped crying and decided that Nathan was his new safety net.
He slept in a big sweaty ball on Nathan's chest for a long time. But slowly, oh so slowly, he began to open up. And at some point, we realized he was funny.. Like really, really funny. And then we realized that he was sweet. And caring and really... so seriously funny.
He still had issues with needing to control everything (who could blame him). For the first couple of weeks he was home, any transition at all was met with anger. Shoes on? That pissed him off. Time to take the shoes off now? Holy cow, the world is ending. I was frequently torn between feeling terrible for him and how insecure he must be feeling and furious because he had yet again bloodied my lip by screaming and flailing and swinging his head around about some minor change.
He was pretty ambivalent about me for a long time, but that is slowly changing. Every step towards attaching was a battle. Nathan was the one who was going to make sure he was safe, not me. Nathan was supposed to comfort him, not me.
He cuddles with me now. He loves to play with my hair and when he is trying to calm himself down he combs it in front of my face so he can blow it away and see me again.
He needs to feel my skin. And even when he is furious with me, he still wants me to pick him up... because he needs me. Finally. And now, I have found that I need him, too.
I love you, little Doot. 
Photo credit for the last picture goes to Elz. Want to see some more seriously cute pictures of my babies? Check out her blog: http://www.abrightblot.blogspot.com/
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Splish...
Splash...
Dear Weekend,
Thanks for letting us stay home all weekend. We had a great time.
Sincerely,
Kate
Dear Weekend,
Thanks for letting us stay home all weekend. We had a great time.
Sincerely,
Kate
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
