The cost of being "in a minute" mom

Dinner to plan and prepare, breakfast dishes to wash, lunch crumbs to be swept, bills to pay, doctors appointments to schedule, a grocery list to write, reading lessons to start, math, science, geography, and Bible lessons that require more planning, more messes, more stress, and more TIME. This is a partial list of what my day entails. And in-between each of these tasks I am prodded at by my children in turn. "Mommy, watch what I can do." "Mom, want to see my football game?" "Mommy will you play trucks with me?" Sasha grabs at my legs to be picked up. Ana wants to help me cook. If I sit down for even a second, somebody wants to climb in my lap.  My response is usually a mechanical, "in a minute," with the recognition that "a minute" is never really just 60 seconds, and most times it never even passes.

But one day, I started adding up the cost of being "in a minute" mom. I have missed countless football games, music performances, and doctors visits (all occurring regularly in my living room). I have been absent for Lightening McQueen's big race, Buzz Lightyear's battle to rescue Woody, and even the weekly garbage pick-up (all which also took place in my very own living room).

I know I can't always say "yes," and I can't always drop everything for what my kids want right now. I know that it is good to teach them patience and how to play independently. But, I also know that sweeping the floor can wait while I read a book to Luke, play babies with Ana, tickle Sasha, and watch Trey beat LSU.

After all, I wouldn't want to miss any more songs created just for me like the "chocolate train ride song" below :)

The beach!

Thanking God for a wonderful day. Yesterday we decided to take a drive to the Oregon coast for the first time. We live just over an hour from Canon beach, so we decided to take a day trip. The kids LOVED the coast (as evidenced by the pictures). The town was so quaint and cute. We stayed for lunch, stopped in a local candy store, and then took the kids to look around Gepetto's toy shop before heading back. The drive took us through the mountains, where we experienced breathtaking beauty. After getting home, we took the kids for a nighttime walk. We bundled everyone up and walked through our subdivision looking at all the Christmas lights. Luke exclaimed, "that was a GREAT one," after every house we saw. We headed home after about 20 minutes and warmed up with hot chocolate and marshmallows for everyone before heading to bed. These are the kind of days I never want to forget.

Truly Thankful

As we prepare for a day dedicated to giving thanks, I can't help but think of the sweet little faces who won't be celebrating with families. I think of those stuck in orphanages or worse. And I also think of those fighting to bring each and every one of them home to loving families. I remember last year well. I remember spending Christmas day sobbing, knowing that we were safe and sound as a family of 4 while our son waited in a bleak reality half way around the world. I wished he was home. I wished paperwork didn't take so long to gather. I wished I could just go board a plane and grab him. I wanted to hold him and hug him and show him he was loved. The tears poured out as I begged God to sustain him while he waited for us.

This year, our children are safe at home. But so many others wait. Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthdays go by without these children knowing that they are different from any other day. I have been following sweet little Katie's journey home lately. An orphan no more, Katie was just welcomed into the the USA by the staff at CHOP. She landed in America to be scooped up and taken straight to the hospital. She fights for her life as a 9 year old weighing 11lbs (her highest weight ever now that she has been with her mommy and daddy). This is not an exaggeration. This is not a ploy to tug at your heart strings. This is reality for so many children. You can follow Katie's journey here.

I fear that too many people know the truth but have one of two reactions to the orphan crisis. The first reaction is paralyzation. How in the world with 147 million orphans out there do we begin to make an impact? The task is too great, so we sit. This is a job for someone else. The other response I fear is the "I should do something, but now is not a good time" response. We worry that we don't have a big enough house, we don't have enough money, we don't have enough time. We have enough problems of our own and we certainly cannot take on someone else's problems too. Please let me tell you that children without families and homes are not seeking perfection. If adoption took a perfect family we would have been out of the running. At the time we adopted, Gary traveled 75% of the time for work which left me as basically a single mom most days and nights, we did not have a large enough vehicle to accommodate even one more car seat, we had debt and certainly did not have the thousands of dollars that the adoption required, and we had NO EXPERIENCE with special needs. But when you realize the heart of God and you are willing to step out in obedient faith, something amazing happens. None of that stuff seems to matter. God provided the money we needed, God provided a vehicle to fit not one, but two more car seats, God provided a new job opportunity for Gary so he could be home more, and God put people in our lives to help guide us through everything that our kids need.

I am not claiming that everything is always easy (as you can read in many of my other blog posts), but is life ever easy? Are kids easy? No. But even though there are difficult moments, we are witness to little butterflies escaping their cocoons every day. 7 months ago we were told that Sasha was non-verbal. And poor Ana was oblivious to the fact that anyone was even talking to her. We honestly thought she was deaf. But here they are now.

This is without a perfect family. Without any therapy (no, I don't need a lecture on the importance of therapy. We are getting there). Without parents who have any special needs experience. This is what happens in a family. When the same face wakes with you in the morning, tucks you in at night, feeds you, clothes you, bathes you, and does their best to love you. That's all these kids are hoping for. Can you give them that? It would be wrong of me to tell you not to look at the challenges, so instead I would ask you to look at them in light of how big our God is. What would have happened if Katie's family waved the white flag, declared defeat and left her, deciding that her challenges were too overwhelming? You and I both know the answer.

You know, when we decided to commit to adopt Ana I was so worried what everyone would think. I worried that people would think we were somehow trying to earn a spot in heaven by taking on as much as we could. I worried that the chatter would start. We would be prematurely judged. I braced myself for the, "they have no idea what they are getting themselves into" talk. I feared close friends and family would worry that we couldn't handle it. But, I remember so clearly the day I told my mom. These were my words: "Mom, I know people are going to think we are crazy, but I don't want to miss whatever beautiful thing God has planned for us". And He did have a beautiful thing planned for us.

I am very thankful that we didn't show up at the orphanage to find 2 kids who we instantly attached to and who bonded with us. I am thankful that the love took time. I am thankful that they are ours and we are theirs. The real beauty of the adoption process comes in the hard parts. It comes in the moments of blind faith and grudging obedience. It comes without warning or much fanfare. It comes when your adopted child recognizes you as mom or dad. It comes when one day the child who didn't want to be touched at all turns, reaches for you and flawlessly says, "up," because she wants to be snuggled. These are the moments when you experience God in a tangible way. This is the beauty of adoption, and I am so thankful that God has counted us worthy.

So to those who wonder, "how do I begin to change this," the answer is one orphan at a time. Love one, advocate for one, bring one home. And to those who say, "not now," I will ask you WHEN? Tomorrow might not come. What if Katie's family waited? Start just by loving one. See the face, learn the name, pray for the child and his or her forever family. They are out there, and God knows who they are. 

Take time this holiday season to make a real difference. Because last year my kids were faces on an angel tree. This year, they are real angels under my tree. 

Here are some links to get you started:

Help the Sheffield family welcome Vinnie home.

Help Sophia find her way into the loving arms of her mommy, Megan.

Sponsor Velenz (or any other sweet child) on this year's Reece's Rainbow Angel Tree. 

In Pieces

It has been nearly 7 months since the Ukrainian government made a decision to allow us to be the legal parents of Alexander Isaiah and Ana Victoria. I look back and I can't help but remember how the people of Ukraine referred to our children as broken. I wanted to scream back that they were perfect, created in the image of God. But after six months home I realize that they were right. Our children are broken. Just not in the way the Ukrainians thought they were. Having Down syndrome does not classify them as broken. Having experienced emotional hurt and psychological disturbance has left them broken. And so, without knowing it, on May 14th, nearly 6 months ago, we boarded a plane headed for home with our children in pieces.

Once we arrived home we began to realize not only that our children were deeply fractured, but also what it would be like to pick up those pieces one at a time and begin to put them back together. On the outside it isn't always obvious to others the deep pain in our children's hearts. Sasha waves and smiles at everyone he meets. And while he is a friendly little guy, getting to know him deeper reveals the longing for someone to love him unconditionally...forever. You can almost feel him asking himself, "how long will this last?". And sweet little Ana always gets lots of oohs and aahs as people fawn over her beauty, but if they looked deeper into her eyes they might actually hear her screaming inside her head: "I don't know who I am!".

It's hard to put two hurt little babies back together when you yourself feel as though you are in pieces. Adoption is never easy, and I strongly applaud EVERY adoptive family. Each child comes with a unique and often heart-breaking past. You think that your love, your structure, and your faith will be enough to see you through. And sometimes it is. But other times it is not. What happens when the love you swore you would feel for your adoptees doesn't come like you thought it would? What happens when no matter what you try, you feel like there is no breaking through the wall? What happens when your faith crumbles because you are so deep in the pit you can't find your way out? What happens when you feel so far away from God that calling out to Him seems like a waste?

The answer: you look back. I know that there are lots of catchy cliches about moving forward and putting the past behind you. But sometimes, looking back is just what an adoptive parent needs. I look back 6 months and remember 2 kids who used to try to eat out of the garbage can, a Sasha who found every electrical outlet he could and tried pulling a cord out or putting something else in, an Ana who we thought was deaf and blind who cried all day long every day while sitting in the kitchen floor. I remember a Sasha who rolled on the floor crying and whining any time someone looked at him, and an Ana who threw every object she came in contact with. I remember wondering if I would ever feel "normal" again. If I would ever NOT be the crazy lady with those adopted kids who keep her running in circles and crying incessantly. I remember when there was no love, just a meeting of basic needs. I remember.

Yay orphanage life!

Look at Ana's left eye. This is what lack of stimulation can do. She does have a strabismus, but it was exacerbated by the orphanage setting.

Will you be mine forever?

But over time, something funny happens. Broken hearts begin to mend...one piece at a time. Walls come down...one piece at a time. Children begin finding themselves...one piece at a time. You begin to feel normal again...one piece at a time. And then one day, you find yourself in a toy store watching your sensory starved daughter shake a rattle on her face, and your attention-seeking son loudly hammer away at a tool bench. You feel the eyes burning deep into you, as you become aware of a mom moving her kids away from your clearly unstable children. But in that moment, you don't ask your children to stop their "abnormal" behaviors, instead you look at them and you feel it: the warm feeling of love that says, "you are mine, and I wouldn't trade you for the world". And the love starts to come...in pieces.

Now look at Ana's bright, mostly straight eyes! (she hasn't even been to the eye doctor yet either, this is just what the right amount of stimulation can do)

Sasha has this funny way of climbing into our laps and giving us this look that says, "you are mine" NOT I am yours.

If I could say anything to the Ukrainian culture, I would ask them to stop breaking perfect children. And because I can't, I will instead choose to praise God for the fact that His love does not come in pieces. I will thank Him for adopting us into His family when He didn't have to, and I will choose to love Him even when I feel broken and incapable of doing so. 

This month is Orphan awareness month. Please commit to help orphans. You are commanded to. Pray for the orphans. Pray for the families who are risking life as they know it to make one less. Adopt, donate to an adoption, sign up for foster care. Do not judge those who find adoption difficult, and support those who have to disrupt. Remember your Father in heaven who CHOSE TO ADOPT YOU, even though He didn't have to. And please note that despite the reality of this post, adoption has been one of the best things in our lives. We have grown in ways incomprehensible, scripture has been revealed to us in new light, and our family is stronger. Adoption will probably be in our future again sometime, but for now, we will continue to pick up the pieces, reveling in every moment. :)

The verdict on... (a post full of pictures)

...Oregon: I can say for sure that I LOVE the fall here. I am a Michigan autumn girl, and Alabama's falls never compared. The air is crisp, the leaves are beautiful shades of yellow, orange, and red. I love driving down TV highway staring in the face of Mt. Hood...so much so, I'm bound to get into an accident one day, because I fail to keep my eyes on the road. The natural beauty here is amazing, and it is nice to live somewhere where they strive to keep it that way.

I have never lived anywhere that had recycling bins larger than the garbage cans

...Homeschooling: Love/hate. I love having control over what my kids learn and how they learn it. I hate not having a break...ever. I love being able to share in so many learning moments with my kids. I hate being solely responsible for their education (it is a bit daunting). I am not using a curriculum this year. We are sort of winging it. I love the freedom and creativity that comes with this teaching, but I also worry we are missing things.

This was our "goo" day. (hence the shirtless children)

...Adjusting: The adjustment has been better than expected. I came to realize one night that I have been the sole constant in my children's lives lately. Everything has changed...and I mean everything!!!! Considering all of this, they have done remarkably well. I think that it was good for my adoptees. They came to see that no matter what changes, our family remains. Trey and Luke have done well, with the exception of one night. Gary has been in and out for the last month: traveling with his old job, a trip to house hunt, and then gone for 2 weeks of training for his new job. We picked him up from the airport late one night. Trey was awake when Gary got in the car, and he was excited to see his daddy. But then he fell asleep. Once we got home and tried to put the kids in bed, Trey screamed when Gary laid in bed with him. He kept screaming hysterically, "I want MOMMY!!!!!". The next morning Trey told Gary, "I didn't want you to sleep with me last night, because I didn't remember you". Such a sad moment for a daddy :( But, he is home now, and we can begin finding "normal" again.

A fun day at OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science and Industry)

Today was our very first down day in the last month. We painted mini-pumpkins. There is a lot to say, but I am too tired to say it, so I will let our happy pictures from the day suffice.

He is yelling at Ana for trying to eat her paint.

He was so proud of his pumpkin :)

As was she.

Play Group

We were so blessed to be invited to the Northwestern Down syndrome association playgroup by the Nine family. The Nine's adopted Vahnya from Russia, and they came home just a month before us. Our kids hit it off really well, and the older girls are amazing. They are totally in my books as prime babysitters ;) I know you don't really care about anything but the pictures, so here they are.

The Eastern Europeans

More *better* pictures on FB that the Nine's tagged me in :)