Letters to Million: Being 2-1/2

Dear son,

You are 2-1/2.

You won't understand what this encompasses until you have kids of your own some day.

I've been thinking this week about how many good character qualities are in your life right now.

And how many bad character qualities could just use a little tweaking to be turned into good ones.

That is the hard part, little man.

Daddy and Mama have the responsibility to watch over your mind, your body, and your soul.  

But you ultimately will make the choices that direct your own course.

We pray that you will make godly decisions, but we cannot effect a change in your soul.

Your defiance could be turned to a hearty respect for those in authority.

Your bully behaviors could be turned into a heart that stands up for the rights of the oppressed.

Your bossiness could be turned into humble leadership.

Your willfulness could be turned into ingenuity within proper boundaries.

Right now you don't understand how beautifully agonizing parenting is: how very seriously Daddy and Mama take our duty. 

We often seem stern. 

We often demand things that you don't like.

We discipline you.

But we also spend tender moments intentionally just holding you and telling you what we cherish about you.

We plan activities that will open new worlds of imagination and creativity to you.

We use words that stretch you intellectually, and we answer nearly all of your questions in a serious manner--for, indeed, they are serious questions to you.

We have expectations for you, and we give you grace when you don't meet those expectations.

We put so much thought and effort and energy into parenting you.

And I just want you to know that it's not easy.

When you are a grown man and have children of your own, I don't want you to nostalgically wonder how Daddy and Mama knew what to do. 

I want you to know that we struggle, daily asking for God's guidance and wisdom.

I want you to know that parenting takes forethought.  It's not something that a person can do well by flying by the seat of their pants, without planning or discussion or a close look into what principles you hold to. 

When you are grown, maybe you will understand these things.  But right now, you are 2-1/2.  You are still a little boy, with attitudes to mold and character qualities to shape.  

And I will hold you and rock you, and make up songs about obedience, and we will sing together one of your favorite songs:

"I want to obey Mommy; I want to obey Daddy.  Because when I obey, I'm happy all the day."

We love you and pray for you to grow into a Godly man.

Mama and Daddy

Vegetable Battles

Doesn't it seem like every time you have good intentions that something happens to punish you for actually HAVING intentions for once?

I've been getting Million to eat more vegetables lately.
I intentionally bought six different kinds of (frozen---being real here) vegetables for him to try.
He liked them.

A couple nights ago was lima bean night.
(Apparently I had forgotten or never knew that lima beans are some of Michael's favorite foods.  Had to note it here, because that seems like something I would intentionally forget.)
As I was pounding the life out of the frozen chunk to get it into the bowl  gracefully creating our unique culinary experience for the little tender one in my life, all of the lima beans separated and flew all over the kitchen onto the floor.
I am nine months pregnant.
Bending down repeatedly to pick up eight thousand lima beans is not my idea of a good time.
I recruited the toddler.  And he started eating the frozen beans off of our kitchen floor.
And decided based on that first impression that he wasn't keen on them.
And yes.  I did wash them off and serve them for supper.
Because I'm classy. And because gosh darn it all, I had good intentions, and they must be played out.

I tried making a healthified carrot dessert.
In the process, I dropped two 9-inch circular cake pans on one of my toes.  They weigh about 1-1/2 pounds together.
It's been a week since I dropped the pans, and my toe just turned black and blue yesterday.  I couldn't move it for awhile. I don't think it's broken, but I've never had one of my toes (and part of my foot) with a bruise like this.

And despite this all, I have the nerve to write my grocery list with more vegetables on it.
Maybe I should stick to fruit.  Fruit seems harmless, right?

Sunday Night Reprieve and The Happiness Project

I've been reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.  In her January month of her project was the "leave nothing undone that you can do in less than a minute" strategy.  I rarely say things dramatically like "you have to try this; it will change your life."  I leave that to people more inclined to exaggeration or with apparent need and appreciation of many minor life changes.  But I can say that this strategy, along with the detailed discussions Michael and I have had to have due to Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University, has brought about a lot more peaceful order to my daily rhythm.  Instead of moving a piece of paper to the dining room table, only to resent that piece of paper three days later, I can either file or throw the piece of paper immediately.  Astounding concept, I know, but I've found it so helpful.

In this moment, Michael is bathing Million.

I'm sitting downstairs menu planning and grocery-list writing.
A pot of Ethiopian coffee is on for Michael's consumption after boy is in bed.
We have a list of jobs to work on for our business tonight.
We have instrumental music playing.
The laundry is running.
The dishes are clean.
We have clean sheets on our bed.
The floor has been swept.
Fresh gingersnaps are in a container close by.
I need to decide what to do with the free squash we got today at church.
We're both all set for a very busy week and cherishing the moments of solitude we get tonight.
We're so grateful.

MOPS Round 2: I didn't die.

We had our second round of MOPS today.

If you missed my description of our first round, please catch up here.

I'm pleased to report, that I did not soak the table with my tears and that I showed up on time.

Whether or not I showered this morning could be a topic of debate.  

But I did even put on some scant amount of makeup and wore a neck scarf to make myself feel more presentable.

MOPS went well for me.  I even (gasp) enjoyed it.  Could have been the quiche, fresh fruit, apple cider, and donuts that won me over.

And the fact that the speaker spoke on an emotionally neutral topic like sin instead of depression, loss, and growth phases of family.  

Million was another story.

I asked his teachers to be honest with me about his behaviors during class this time.

And this time they were.

And we have work to do, for our little boy is turning into a bully.

It's par for the course these days.

And after that depressing/frustrating thought, I'll completely change the topic.  I didn't want to do another whole post on diapering, because there are only so many things you can say about diapers.  But here's a picture of what we ended up with after this post. (Note: I do have more than one white prefold diaper, I just didn't want them all in the picture.)  I also have some girly covers that my sister-in-law is lending me for the days I'm not caring whether November Boy is diapered in a masculine way.  

Our next installment of MOPS will be next week.  Two weeks in a row.  We will see if Million and I come out of it unscathed.  Here's hoping.

Defiance

Has anyone read Parenting The Strong-Willed or Spirited Child books?
Are they worth reading?

Ahem.
Those questions in themselves should give you an idea about this week.

In some ways I am a little envious of parents who bring home older children, because delineating the difference between "adoption issues" and "parenting issues" is a teeny bit easier, from a parent's perspective.  Or at least it seems to me that it would be.

We're going through a very defiant stage.  Fortunately and unfortunately, we've been told by many people including medical professionals and educators that Million's vocabulary is that of a 4 year old child.  (Adoptive parents, don't perk your ears and ask if we know about his "actual birth date" or suggest that we change...That's not the issue here.)  But with all of these big words he knows (from hours and hours of investing in a literacy-rich environment at home and from refusing to baby talk to him), comes power---even when he doesn't fully understand the breadth and depth of what he is saying.

And he understands that his words hold some amount of power.
And he's trying to use that power to the best of his ability.
And the sinful nature of man is fully evident.

And I sometimes cry after he's asleep and wonder how I'm going to handle two little boys in about a month.
And I occasionally bake carrot cakes "for daddy" when I really just want a lick of the cream cheese frosting.

I know this is a "phase" that many 2 year olds and 3 year olds go through.  I've read enough child psychology and development books and taken enough classes.
But what college classes and intellectual books don't tell you is how absolutely frustrating it is when you find yourself having angry thoughts towards your child's willful behavior.
And how endless it seems when you're going through it.
And how much of a failure you feel like, despite reassurances that "you're doing a good job."

But that carrot cake was frosted beautifully thanks to a "how to frost a layer cake the RIGHT way" pin on Pinterest.

The Land of Evermore, Wisconsin

One thing beautiful about our vacation was revisiting The Land of Evermore in Baraboo, Wisconsin.

My family went there many years ago.  Michael had never been there (and he and Million had such a blast...seriously, if you've got a boyish boy and are near the Dells, take him there! It's free!)  I also had a great time, being visually inspired.  For a mom who doesn't get out much, it was an invigorating and refreshing jaunt---even if it was raining half the time we were wandering through the place.

Wordless: Wisconsin

A Tale of Two Years

Two years ago I saw my son for the first time.
The pixelated images that I printed out and held close to me for the months before I could hold his actual body to mine.
I heard a voice say "His name is Million," and my heart melted.
I didn't know that my tiny boy would have such a large personality.
I didn't know how deeply enmeshed my heart would be with his.
I only knew that he was mine.
He was my first child.
He was my little boy.
He was our son.

Michael and I are often asked if we feel bad for missing out on most of his big "firsts", since he didn't come home until he was speaking, running, with eight teeth, eating solid foods, etc.
Our answer has always been no.
We don't feel bad for missing it.
It's just what we know.

I think had we procreated first, there might have been some elements of that, and maybe once November Boy is born, we will experience some grief when we realize all we missed.

But I know that adoption first was absolutely right for us as a couple.  God knew that He could use it to open up our hearts and eyes in a way that the birth of a child of our flesh couldn't possibly accomplish.    

There are so many more things I could say today, on our two-year anniversary of our referral phone call.
But words are failing.
So I will just cherish memories and gratefully acknowledge God's working in our lives as a family.

Wednesday.

This week has been a whirlwind of learning experiences.
Learning experiences CAN be fun.
But we're not really talking those kind today.
Our little business got a flurry of orders last weekend.
So many that we have had to put our shop "on vacation" to complete them all in a timely manner.
First time that's happened.
But we also learned that we extremely underpriced a particular custom item.

So we may not make any profit at all from any of the orders we've been putting in hours to complete.
Sigh.
A Sisyphean feeling.  
Those are the learning experiences that are not fun.
But they're valuable.

On a different note, November Boy dropped/engaged this week.  Which means I can breathe.  But it is slightly concerning that babies tend to drop 2 to 4 weeks before delivery.  I would prefer he comes at his due date or later----not earlier.  We just don't have time for that right now...ha!  Million has fun looking at a chart that my midwife gave me of how big our baby is.  He especially liked to note that in this week's photo, "baby brother's eyes are closed."

Lastly, we're going on a minor vacation.  And I'm so looking forward to it.  I'm bringing some books, with the hopes of getting at least 15 pages read while Million and Michael play in the indoor water park.  I like to set my goals high.

Friday: Where Is The Balance?

Some days, balancing being a stay-at-home mommy and a work-at-home mommy is really hard.

After running an order to the post office today, I drove Million by the llama farm I lived across from very briefly as a little girl.  Fifteen minutes later, he was asking me if I remembered that one time that we saw the llamas.
Starved for new experiences much?

The last two times I've checked out books for Million from the library, I don't think we've read any of them before returning them.  (We are still reading books---just ones we own.)

We ate nachos last night while Million ate leftover whatever he wouldn't eat for lunch.

We are going on a two-day vacation at some point in the middle of this coming week, and we are bringing work with us.

Million is excited about swimming in a pool with his cousin.

And we put flannel sheets on his bed, and he thinks that's the most exciting thing that's ever happened to him.

An adoption t-shirt/sweatshirt fundraiser that Michael was running for our adoption ends tonight.

And we have been working on some huge custom orders for our business and have the potential for another that would need to be sent out before our two-day vacation.

We are tired.  We are blessed.

I need to find some balance.

That is all.  

Diapering The New One

You know how in life there are just some things that seem important even if you KNOW inherently that they're not?

Maybe I'm the only obsessive one out here....
But I've read enough other bloggers to doubt that. (wink.)

Michael and I have been talking a lot about money lately.
Which is an improvement on ignoring money and then having "discussions" when it absolutely needs to be talked about.

And so I've been thinking about money.
Not a bad thing to think about.

We've been saving it.
Also not bad.

But with the arrival of a newborn impending, there ARE some things we need to spend money on...since we didn't bring Million home until he was 17 months old.

The thing that had been concerning me the most was diapers.
We knew that we're a die-hard cloth diaper family.
The question was which kind and how many we wanted to buy until our little guy fit in our 12-35 pound diapers.
Because the way he's been measuring (smaller), there is no way he's 12 pounds.

Anyway, I debated about it for days.  Until Michael finally just made the call.


We're going to do something that scares me a little bit and try a new kind of cloth diapers.  By new, I mean---pretty much what my mom used.

Except with little snappi fasteners instead of pins.

And with some cute and skin-friendly covers instead of plastic panties.  This is where my shopping lies now. I have to decide between large corporation and small, hand-made items.  I know that we'll probably end up buying from a work-at-home mom or small Etsy shop, because that's one of the ways we enjoy purchasing now...but I have to show you the options.

One potential option, Thirsties Duo-Wraps from a large national company.

A work-at-home mom option, found here.  Probably my favorite, since it's my favorite color.

Another Etsy option, found here.

And one that Michael would love, found here.

I absolutely KNOW that making our newborn diapering decision wasn't that big of a deal.  But it felt like a big deal.
And it's a relief having the decision made.

Toddler Meltdowns and How They Affect Spending

The day came.
Four years ago, when I was writing my parenting philosophy, I used an example of how I would use logical consequences when my child(ren) did XYZ.

Million did exactly XYZ today.

And oh, how I hated myself for writing those calm and logical sounding phrases into my homestudy autobiographies.  XYZ and the situation that followed and preceded it was anything but calm and logical.

I did manage to do exactly what I said I would do....but it took enormous amounts of energy (and prayer for self control.)

I'm learning how much I thought I knew about parenting and how much I still have to learn.

On a related note, I've been learning about myself and how I allow Million's little X, Y's, and Z's to affect my attitude and behaviors.  To be perfectly honest, since beginning to attend Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University, I've realized that when Million has a bad behavior day, I often go into town with the excuse that I need to "get out of the house."  And when I pick Michael up from work, I'll tell him that supper isn't ready.  So we eat out.

As a family, we haven't eaten out, bought any coffee beverages, or any gas station or convenience store foods for nearly two weeks.  Million and I have only made three trips into town, and they've all been with Michael and planned expeditions with exact purposes. It's been a struggle, but I'm learning to curb my behavior.  I should not allow my son's attitude to influence my spending.  So today, after XYZ meltdown...I made some homemade pretzels.  (I realize that food is not the answer to everything and that I should also be addressing my comfort food habits, but in this case, it prevented me from spending money.)

I'm sure other people struggle with this issue too.  I'm here, chiseling away at my imperfect behavior.  I'm so ready to move onto bigger mountains to climb. Join me.

Homestudy, Check.

Just waiting for USCIS now.  And Million asked to take a picture with "the home sudsy for Baby E-Fee-Opia."

Is it terrible that he knows words like "notary" and "dossier" at 2-1/2?  

We took Million to feed geese, something I did every so often as a little girl.  It's a great way to get rid of stale bread.  He was significantly less scared this year, partially because of his motivation to "teach the goose to eat like a big boy."

Here are two pictures of Michael's votive display he designed Thursday night and put together Friday night.  I'm planning on staining it a medium wood stain...something called "Early American."

Fine Dining at Our House

Last week I brainstormed 14 things I could do to make each day this pay period a little special for us so that we wouldn't go out of the house just because we're bored.  Yesterday, Michael got to eat copious amounts of cinnamon raisin bread (one of his favorites, conveniently left over from MOPS.)  Tonight I think we're going to eat on fancy dishes and let Million try a little sparkling cranberry juice.  I'm looking forward to seeing his reaction.

Our fine dining will look especially classy, considering Million did not finish his lunch, so he has to eat leftovers for dinner...  (he hates eating meat but needs the iron almost as much as his constantly anemic mama does.)

After all attempts at Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant classiness fail us, our wild Friday night plan includes a trip to Hobby Lobby and our home improvement store.

Michael's designed something incredibly beautiful and a little more complicated for us to sell, so tonight we'll be trying to make some prototypes....while the weather outside gets down to below freezing.   

We're also going to be experimenting with two new colors of stain.  

I love stain.

In other news, I've actually had a little chance to read lately.  I've been reading two of Amanda Blake-Soule's books.  I might be inspired enough to try making a rag rug with some extra fabric I have lying around.  We'll see if that inspiration finds wings and takes flight or not. She's one of those writers that makes me feel incredibly inspired but also incredibly lazy at the same time.  Kind of like most major bloggers nowadays.   

But the words she writes and the pictures she posts are so thought provoking, that they make me pause and say "Hey.  I could do that."  For a moment or two.  

What are your weekend plans, dreams, goals, ambitions, or lack thereof?

How I Committed Two Cardinal Sins at a Baptist Church

There are two golden standards of "perfection" I hold myself to.  

Maybe more.

But to not meet these particular standards is cardinal sin.  Worse than death.

They are:

I must be on time to places.

and 

I must not cry in front of anyone other than Michael or Million.

I loathed MOPS this morning.

Dreaded it.

Being an introvert, going and sitting at tables with women I don't know to hear about parenting is not my idea of a good time.

Being at home, crocheting or knitting, reading a good book, baking a new treat, or distressing and staining wood is my idea of a good time.

But being somewhat of a cheapskate, the idea of having paid money for something and not getting my money out of the deal tortured me to pieces.

So I bundled Million into the car and faked excitement about how much fun his class was going to be.  And how he would love playing with children and listening to his teacher.

And he bought it.

When I got to the large church the meeting was at, at least I knew which door to go in.  But it took stopping in five different classrooms to find out where Million was supposed to be.  And you can imagine taking a 2-year-old into classrooms filled to the brim with really really cool noise-making toys like he's never seen before, and then hauling him out repeatedly because it's not the right room.  Temper tantrums in a Baptist church in front of a bunch of completely under control mamas.  When I finally found his classroom, I was already running late with the breakfast I was supposed to be helping bring.

Cardinal sin #1.

No one told me where to leave the diaper bag or if I was supposed to leave a diaper bag.  No one really told me much of anything.  Sigh.  That greatly relieved any anxiety I felt about leaving my son with complete strangers...of course.

I got to the room with about 20 tables set up, and gave my food to the food table people.  Then I had to figure out which table I was supposed to sit at.  

And I'm an introvert.  Did I mention that?

A pregnant introvert. In a room filled with women who are geared on mommyhood and life with young children.

When I finally got to my table, there was a bag of Halloween candy at it.  Because of some principles, I don't eat non-fair trade candy.  I put it in my purse and resolved to throw it away when I got to the car.

After about half an hour of chatter and announcements, they asked "Are there any baby announcements?"

I assumed it meant had anyone had a baby in the last two weeks since their prior meeting.

No.  No that's not at all what it meant.  They meant was anyone pregnant. 

So they made me go up in front of all of the people and speak into a microphone about my pregnancy.

A microphone.  In front of complete strangers, whom, I forgot to mention, are by all appearances all perfectly maintained upper class women.  Perfect hair, perfect fingernails, perfect makeup, perfect outfits that probably cost more than I could fathom. 

And I was in jeans and a pregnancy jersey sweatshirt. 

Talking into a microphone.

I about died.

After making my way to my seat, a middle-age couple talked about letting go of your kids at various stages in your life.  The dad nearly started bawling twice, and my hormones kicked in...but I maintained control.

After their 1-1/2 hour long talk, there was group discussion.  And when I had to answer a question about "how are you letting go of your child to be independent in the stage of life he's in", I started crying.  In front of strangers.  About leaving Million in his classroom with a stranger after working for over a year on telling him that I will always be here for him.

Cardinal Sin #2. 

Let me think: I just dropped my son off with strangers for the very first time.  I'm hormonal.  I've been dreading this MOPS meeting for days.  I just had to speak into a microphone in front of over one hundred complete strangers.  You all are looking good.  And I look like a piece of Kleenex on a public restroom floor.  

Thankfully, group discussion ended quickly after that and I scooted out the door as fast as my legs could carry me.

And then Million threw a temper tantrum about leaving his classroom.  The teenage helper told me that he was a great kid and that he "did really well for his first day in class".

But on the way out of the church, he told me that he had hit children.

Whom shall I believe?

Luckily, Michael works only about five minutes from where the MOPS meeting was...so I called him, and he came out and sat in the car and listened to how-absolutely-horrible-and-awful-it-was-but-I-have-to-go-again-or-I'll-completely-hate-myself-forever and these-women-don't-know-me-so-they-don't-know-that-I-typically-don't-cry-about-things-like-leaving-Million-so-they-probably-think-I'm-an-overprotective-goon and why-do-my-hormones-have-to-work-couldn't-I-just-be-a-man?

And then I remembered the Halloween candy.

And ate nearly the whole bag on the way home after dropping Michael back off at work.

Yes, yes I did.

The day can only get better.

Petrified.

Tomorrow, Million will be watched by a complete stranger for the first time...(well, since he's been our son, at least.)
He and I have spent about 60 hours apart total since he's come into our care.  And that is including the time that Michael has been watching him solo.

I've joined a large MOPS group.
I think what compounds the nerves is that I don't even know where I'm supposed to drop him off or where I'm supposed to go.  AND I'm supposed to bring food enough for 20 people?

I missed the first session of MOPS, where I would have been prepared and where they would have had welcome tables at the front door, because Million and I were exposed to whooping cough, so we were being prophylactically medicated and had been told to stay away from places with children.

I don't know if I'm most nervous about Million being back in a form of institutionalized care or if I'm most nervous that he will freak out and think I'm not coming back.  We've never done this sort of thing before.  And generally speaking, when we make changes, behavioral issues crop up.

I think I'm also intermingling it with my worry about next month, when Million is away from us for two days-ish, while I'm in the hospital.  I worked insanely hard to promote Million's attachment to me as his mommy.  There were days that he and I both cried all day long and couldn't stand each other.  I shudder to think of ANYTHING doing damage to the beautiful bond that we eventually formed.  (These worries have actually affected our post labor/delivery plans...Michael isn't going to be staying overnight with me in the hospital.  He's going to pick Million up and have some big-boy time and then will bring Million to meet his brother...before the few visitors that we're going to allow will come.)

Sigh.

Exciting News about Soup...

Michael taught Million to make tortillas.

Babywearing Brothers-in-Law.

Million's first time up an apple tree---despite the signs that said "no climbing."

I think this may be the first "belly picture" to hit our blog.  32 weeks.
(I only have about three "belly pictures" in general.)

Okay. After the onslaught of photos, I have an announcement.

I am making comfort food today.

Because....drum roll please... I finally found a cream of chicken soup that is MSG and trans-fat free and has a consistency that produces results I like. 

Take that, Campbell's!

I'd been trying all of the home-made varieties you see on pinterest, but they were either flavorless or too runny.

The one that I found that we like is made by Pacific Natural Foods.  All of the ingredients are organic, but the only ingredient it has that I'm not quite so sure about is rice starch.  I haven't researched the rice starch's nutritional value (or lack thereof), but Michael is 800% certain that it is the active ingredient that gives it the correct Campbell soup consistency.  You know, the consistency that makes sounds like "glop glop glub" when it slides into a bowl?   

(And I'm pretty sure our good food store staff thought we were crazy when we bought 12 little boxes of condensed cream of chicken soup.  Why do all of the easy recipes in the world have cream of chicken soup in them?)

Bring on chicken and rice casserole for lunch.