He Helps Me Greet the Sun
Jack rises with the sun. And during the summer months, the sun rises very early. Today was no exception and around 6AM Jack was standing next to my bed whispering in my ear, "Mommy. Mommy get up. Go downstairs with me. Mommy. Mommy."
I pulled him into bed with me hoping against hope that he would fall back asleep. Mind you, this has never happened. He lay there quietly for a few minutes and then started tapping me on the shoulder all the while whispering his insistent chant of "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy."
Then he moved on to tracing the contours of my face with his chubby fingers. He was gentle, as though he were trying very hard to commit my sleeping face to memory. His face was very close to mine and I could smell his slightly sweaty, little boy smell.
As much as I longed for 5 more minutes of sleep, I knew that years from now, when my teenage boys will sleep in to ungodly hours of the morning, I will miss the little boy who greeted the day. I will miss the poking of chubby fingers that are holding on to the last vestiges of baby fat. Seeking me out will not be the way he starts his day. I will no longer be the center of his world. He won't cry when I leave the house or run to me in pure joy when I return. He will grow up and grow away from me.
So I got up, walked through the quiet house with my little boy to share a quiet morning with him. Just Mommy and Jack.
She's Pulling Out the Big Guns Now
I knew the moment that I had kids that one day one of them would get mad and yell, "I hate you!" Well, that day was today.
Last night Rachel and I had a very long conversation about appropriate footwear and when certain shoes can and can not be worn. Yet, despite being very clear, she went ahead and wore shoes that she knew she was not allowed to wear to go pick up her brother from gymnastics this morning. I didn't see them until we got there because she got in the car first.
I tried really hard not to lose my shit over the flagrant disregard for the rules. I mean really! We had discussed this very topic for over a half an hour just last night. So I told her that she was clearly not mature enough to own said shoes if she was not mature enough to follow the rules and wear them at appropriate times. Well then she just went nuts and started saying the most hurtful things that she could think of.
There were the old stand-bys like "It's so hard to be the oldest. You just don't know." (except that I do because I am the oldest), "You always say no. Even your last name starts with 'No'" (she is creative), and "I'm doing the best I can. I guess I just don't have any brains or talent." When those didn't work, she started to bring out the big guns: "Why did you even adopt me if you were just going to treat me like this?" "You don't love me!" and then the biggest gun of all "I don't love you." Which was quickly followed by, "But would love you again if you just gave me a second chance."
Everyone that I have talked to has told me to remember that she doesn't mean it, that she does love me and that love is not predicated on getting someting in return. But I remember saying those same types of things to my mother* and I meant them. Not in an everlasting way, but at that moment I was so mad that I just wanted to hurt her and I didn't feel a whole lot of love.
Later when she was calmer, and trying a different tactic for earning back that which she had lost for her outburst, a weekend sleepover, she said to me, "You have a temper and I have a temper. Let's just forget the whole thing. I will love you and you will let me go to my sleepover and get my shoes back." I told her that I agreed. She and I are a lot alike and we do both have tempers, but that she was not going to get out of her punishment. No matter who she blamed (and she blamed the shoe thing on everyone from me, to her brother, to some kid in pre-school who didn't like her...no, really she did), it was her decision and she had to own it and the consiquences of that decision because they were hers.
Her first screw up was the shoes and I do not feel even the least bit guilty about taking them away. We have had this same fight about a dozen times. She knows the rules. But there is a part of me that feels a little guilty for uping the punishment because of the "hate speech." I don't want her to think that it is at all acceptable to treat people in that way no matter how mad you are. I know that this is not the last time that I will hear "I hate you Mommy!", but I don't ever want her to think that it is alright or that it works. And we have a strict "No Negotiation" policy about punishment. There is not parole in the Nohe household. You do the crime you do the time. Still, I wish that I didn't feel like I was punishing her for her feelings instead of just for her actions.
*Mom- I really owe you a big appology. That was not very nice of me.
To Baby or Not to Baby
With Teddy's 2nd birthday coming up, we've been having a few conversations about whether or not it is time to expand our family. For the last two years, I've been, what's the word, oh yeah, baby crazy. I insisted that this was not the end of the baby road for me. I wanted to smell more baby heads, count tiny toes, wash itsy bitsy clothes, not sleep through the night for 6 or 7 months, breast feed till I felt like a human cow...I'm sorry, what were we talking about.
Now that Teddy is almost two and I can see an end in sight for diapers, hauling around enough equipment to make a sherpa sigh, sippy cups, cribs, stair gates, and teething, I'm starting to have second feelings about the whole baby thing. Some of the changes are simple, like the fact that Jack can buckle himself in the car by himself or go outside to play with the big kids while I fold laundry. Like how Teddy, while a precious baby, is becoming a great little kid. He has personality and personality goes a long way. Nicholas and Rachel can really help me with things now (although Rachel refers to herself as "A Brown Cinderella" so the help is not always without complaint). Then there is the fact that if we had another kid we would have to buy another car, but the car thing is an entire post all on its own.
Which brings me to some of the bigger things. Things that we want for our family. There are places that we want to go and things that we want to experience that just a) become harder the more kids that we have and b) become more expensive and therefore less likely the more kids that we have. I mentioned this to a friend of mine and her response was, "You are putting vacations and convience ahead of bringing another life in to the world." Well, it is hard to feel like a good person when you say "Yes" to that statement.
Are we following God's will and plan if we say, "I really feel like my family is the right size. We feel done with this stage and ready to move on to the next stage." Are we supposed to stay in the baby years forever? Is it selfish to say that we look forward to what is next even if it means letting go of something that was amazing?
I don't know if we are done-done having kids. It's a big decision and one that we don't take very likely. But, 4 kids feels nice in a way that 2 and 3 kids didn't feel done.
Over at Owlhaven, there is a discussion centering on ways to afford adoption. Below is my 2 cents.
We adopted our two fabulous older children through the foster care system. Not only did the state cover all the adoption costs, but they also paid for any future therapy that the kids might need. Talk about "the price is right."
I am not sure why domestic foster adoption seems to somehow always he the "adoption of last resort," but let me tell you that these kids are wonderful.
Our daughter is an amazing young lady and funny as all get out. She has a wit that would challenge the most seasoned professional comic. All this from a child that they said couldn't speak when she was three years old. Our son is a gentle genius. When he arrived at our home, he was two years old and testing developmentally at the age of a 15 month old. The "experts" told us that he would probably be in special ed his whole life. Well that was not His plan. Our son is a year ahead in all subjects but Math, where he is two years ahead. He is on a competitive gymnastics team and is one of the most empathetic children I know.
If your heart is open, there are literally thousands of kids waiting for home right here in the American foster care system. Sure they may not be babies and they may have had a rocky start to life, but with a good home, involved parents and lots of love, these kids can have an amazing future.
People always tell us what "good people" we are for doing this and that our kids are so lucky. I always correct them. We are the lucky ones and my children, all of my children, are the most amazing people I know.
Mother's Day
I live my life for the 4 little people who call me Mom. Sure, they drive me out of my ever loving mind, give me gray hairs, seem to suffer from temporary recurrent deafness when I speak to them, can erase all vestiges of recently cleaned house in about 20 minutes, and three of them can't seem to control their stream either peeing on the floor or themselves. Still, I love them dearly. They are my children. Because I know first hand everything that goes in to being a mother, I truly love Mother's Day, but it is a lot of pressure.
First there is the question of whether or not to spend the day with or without the children. Like I said, I love my children, but I spend every hour of every day with them. I feel very guilty telling the people who made me a mother that the thing I would like most is some time away from them. And yet, I know being with them will mean work. A family trip will mean packing a diaper bag, making lunches, breaking up fights in the car, chasing children, basically the same thing I do everyday. But to ask for a day alone seems too decedent and sends the wrong message, "I love you, now go away."
Second, when you are a mother, there is a very good chance that you also have a mother. So how do you honor that woman without giving up a day that you feel you very much have earned by living in the trenches of dirty diapers, hours in the car driving to and from activities, debating whether or not to clean up the noodles now while they are slimy or just wait until they dry up and will sweep up easier, and doing the day to day with your own shorties.
For years, Mother's Day has sort of been this game of tug-of-war. What do I want versus what do I want for other people? Well, this year, I am letting go of expectations, mine and other peoples and just focusing on what would make my day seem special to me.
So here is my list of what I want this Mother's Day (in no particular order)
1. To get out of bed when I want and not when a child is crying.
2. To shower before noon
3. To have as many Krispy Kreme crullers for breakfast as I want, possibly in bed (and yes, the kind from the grocery store will do)
4. To be able to watch Sunday Morning (without commentary from the peanut gallery) and This Week
5. To not change any diapers or dress any little people
6. To have the kids call all the Grands and Godmothers
7. To have lunch brought to me from Chipolte (A- That will be a veggie burrito with rice, sour cream, tomato salsa, guacamole, cheese with a side order of chips with guac. B- It should be picked up after the boys go down for a nap.)
8. To deal with children when I want to and to be left alone when I want that instead
9. To feed the children left overs and then have a date with my husband in the basement (if it weren't for him I wouldn't be a mother after all)
10. For it to be sunny so that the kids can play outside
I like this request. I think that it would give me a break, while also getting to spend time with the people I love, namely my husband and children. If this happened on Mother's Day, I would be one happy mother ready to take on the laundry pile, dirty diapers and endless dinners.
To all the Mother's out there. I hope that you have a great day. You deserve it. Being a mom is one of the hardest jobs on the planet, but also one of the greatest. To my own mom- Thanks! You are the Best!
Anyone have any other special plans for Mother's Day?
My Lil' Red Neck
Jack may just be the most red neck person that I have ever met. First he was hauling around a log and referring to it as "My Baby" as he cradled it in his arms. Then when his shoes got muddy, he replaced them with sandwich bags which he wore on the playground...you know where other people could once again gap at "that family." You know the one with the kid wearing sandwich bag shoes whose favorite toy is a log.
