Vanished

We are in the heart of summer.  We have done many fun activities and have stayed busy, but we have had our quiet down time of unscheduled "nothing" too.  It is not always super easy especially since I allow for NO MEDICATION days!  Those days allow his little body time to feel hungry, to rest as it will and to re-set.  They are not always the hardest days and I don't always stay home on those days.... we take it as we can allowing him to experience his world off medication.  It is not to say the wheels don't fly off.....

The hardest part of summer has been the disappearing.  Perhaps the worst in recent weeks was yesterday when he just totally disappeared when I was in the bathroom.  I heard him then I didn't.  I went to check and he was gone.  Just gone.  Vanished.  He was dressed in nothing but a bright yellow pair of underpants.  He had a bike I noted because one of them was missing (I take stock of the equipment right away).

Because it has happened so often I don't panic right away.  If you have never had a child disappear, congratulations... you do not know the panic it causes.  But don't judge me because it happens frequently.... this is how my child is built... he has done it since he was big enough to walk, in summer and winter, at home and at the store... each time is just as terrifying as the last.  It has been extremely better since we moved to the country and we just got complacent.

I call his name.  I walk around the outside of the house, I check the inside of the house.  I walk to the street and look around. Panic starts to set in.  Yesterday he was GONE.  There were people out and not one of them had seen a little boy with unruly hair in yellow underwear....  I was getting afraid.

I had no idea which way to go on the street, no idea.  He was just GONE.

And just as suddenly 15 minutes later, he was there.  Just back on the street, riding his bike, no concern at all.  I was angry.  Frustrated does not begin to describe me.  Livid perhaps.  Mostly just afraid, anxious and upset.  He parked his bike and looked straight at me and said "what did I do? I'm sorry I did not have a helmet on"..... SERIOUSLY child, a helmet is not the issue.  He had been 2 doors down, his bike had been with others so I overlooked it in my panic.  (Apparently they don't get concerned when my kid shows up in his underpants... nothing about us is surprising....)  I however was not in a good space.

How do you begin to get a child who is unafraid of people to understand that there are BAD people (or tricky or unkind or what ever word you want to use).  People who snatch children.  Maybe they drive by, maybe they are visiting a neighbor, maybe they live around our street... people who will abuse a child, take them away or worse.  How do you get him to understand that he should not just drive off in his underwear and trust that things are good?  How do you make a child who does not comprehend "asking permission" to ask before he goes anywhere?  How do you describe over and over that there are people who are just not good out there?  How do you make him understand that his mom must know where he is all the time so that I can keep him safe.... For the life of me I have yet to figure this one out....  And yet I remain hopeful.

Yesterday he saw me cry.  And he got yelled at.  His consequences are that he can't leave the driveway for the rest of the week on any of his riding stuff and no technology for 2 days - NONE.  That is not to say we are staying home for 2 days because we aren't...   It took me a long while to calm down and for the panic to subside.  My dreams were clouded with fear of loosing my little boy, of not being able to tell the police where he went, of the worst case.

Today is a new day... we get a fresh start... we can't hold on to what happened yesterday but we can gently remind him of the need to let his grown up know all the time where he is going.  We can try to train him to make an effort to get permission..... We try and keep on going.

Happy Mother's Day 2017

The blessing of a birthday.  The gift of motherhood.  They go hand in hand.  For me, the birth of my child and Mother's Day fall very close together.  Every year I am thankful for the opportunity to just be called MOM (MOMMY, MAMA, MOOOOOM ~ depends on the moment).  I breathe in each moment (and some of them are not pretty). 

 

Eight years ago a beautiful little boy entered this world.  Today, he is strong and courageous.  Talented and funny in so many ways.  He is ornery and mischievous and super curious about his world.  He is kind and generous.  He is just one cool kid.  And I am proud to be his mom.  Eight years ago I looked down on his little face just moments after he was born and my life changed.

My heart swelled with love for this tiny baby who entered our lives.  A love I had waited a long time for.  As I sat there in the hospital I knew I had been blessed with this precious life and I promised him no matter what I'd love and protect him to the best of my ability.  Not a day goes by without me telling him and showing him that he matters and I love him.  My heart also made room for his birth mom (and much later for his birth dad who we generally know nothing about).  I am so thankful every year for this generous woman.  Her ability to love this little boy and choose me to be his mom is the greatest kind of courage.

These eight years have been filled with tremendous joy and frustrating anxiety.  This endeavor called "parenthood" is not always a simple task.  Eight years ago I decided to let this little dude get where he needed when he needed.  I support, encourage, prompt and engage.  I provide opportunities and direction.  He is often free to explore, grow and attempt things as he desires.  Sometimes this has meant making really hard decisions so that he can be where he is emotionally, physically, educationally and mentally.  Sometimes it means just letting go and watching him manage on his own.  Eight years ago I vowed to just love this little boy ~ and love him I do.

If I had to offer three bits of parenting advice for adoptive parents it would be this... make room in your heart to always be thankful to the woman who gave birth to this child.  Secondly, let this child be a child ... let them grow and learn as their mind and body are ready to.  There is no box, no mold, no simple age... be present and with them where they are.  Lastly, enjoy the moments.  All the moments.  The good and the really ugly moments.  Because after 8 years I assure you I am both saddened at how quickly it has gone and happy to be part of it all.

At the end of my day you will find me snuggled on the couch with this little boy who still enjoys a snuggle.  And I am forever thankful to his birth mom for giving me this opportunity.

 Happy Mother's Day to my child's birth mom....
And Happy Birthday to him... may both of you have the future you are destined to have and may it be full of love and peace.

Little Germ Boy

Let me be very clear.... My kid is cool.  And he is relatively clean (he showers every single night before bed).

But every dam day I find my self saying things I never thought I would say.  I say them with gusto, conviction and often at the top of my lungs.  Things like "GET YOUR FOOT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH" or "stop picking your nose" or "FLUSH THE FREAKING TOILET" or "get your socks out of the living room" or "don't let the dog lick your mouth"......  I could go on, but you get the idea.
I am 100% certain that most of us have yelled at least that.
The real issue is that I actually have to keep saying it. Over and over.  How hard is it to keep your foot out of your mouth?  And can you really not remember to flush each and every time you go to the bathroom?  If you can't remember, WHY?  We have tissue, can you use one?  No, well hum....  your finger is really to big to get the job done.  Do you know you have a laundry basket and the dirty sweaty little socks should go in the basket so that they can be washed after the sweat dries and they stand up alone?  The dog eats poop.  The dog licks its own butt.  The dog has no business licking your face so push him away.  No it is not because he loves you that he is licking you....He probably smells your feet on your face because you were licking your foot....  just STOP.

The real issue is probably not that I actually say these things over and over... the issue is that your little body is a mess of nasty germs and still want me to hug and kiss you.  That is just disgusting. And yucky.

Don't get me wrong.  My child is super cool.  And I adore him.  And I still spend my fair share of time kissing on him when he tolerates it.  Imagine just how grossed out I can get if I think to long about it.  In essence I have just kissed the dogs butt when I kissed my child's cheek. In theory, I just plunged my face into the un-flushed toilet when I hugged my kid.  That nasty little sock I picked up is no cleaner than licking the bottom of my shoe.  Those fingers I insist on holding when we are crossing the street have been so far in a nose, on a foot and never washed that I might as well wallow in a pig sty while I eat my lunch.   Yea... pretty dang nasty to be a mom.

Kids are full of terrible filth.  They are built to withstand more germs than I can imagine.  They are flat out gross.  But we love them.  We tolerate those sticky little beings touching us.  We keep yelling the same things and requiring them to do the same things... flush, wash, pick, wash, etc.  They don't. One day... one day they will.  At least in my situation I hope one day he will!

So after you hug your kid... go wash.  (And for sure, after you hug mine... wash yourself)!

sick day

Today I sat on the couch and snuggled a very sick little boy.  Almost all day.  When we were not snuggled I was getting food for him.  A weird thing indeed.  On a sick day, when his body suddenly develops the ability to stay calm, we skip the medication.

The medication typically makes him not hungry or thirsty.  Getting him to eat or drink is often a task that requires the national guard.  He never feels hungry and rarely feels thirsty.  His weight is something we consistently monitor.

With a fever and feeling sick, he ate.  He ate healthy, substantial meals.  He grazed on chips and snacks.  He drank water and juice and milk.  I did not have to feed him or 'help' him use his fork.

I had a glimpse into what a typical day may be like.  It was strange to say the very least.  But the coolest part of the whole thing (not that it is cool, because my child is sick) is that he ate.  He ate and ate.  And for a parent who worries about the weight of the little man, I was tickled to see him consume so many calories!  I'd have to buy groceries more often if he ate like this every day ... what that would be like.....

And we all know one should feed a cold...