pizza party!

Gotta love whole wheat pizza dough from a pop-can! Add a bunch of pizza toppings in a muffin tin, some cheese in a bowl, spoons full of sauce, two little chefs and you are in business in like a half-hour! (clean-up time not included...I'll be honest, most of that cheese ended up on the floor). Finally a great way to make dinner AND entertain the kids at the same time.

My little chefs at work.

All in all, fun and delicious! First time I've seen both kids voluntarily eat red peppers, tomatoes and spinach. Of course, that was during the preparation - none of it ended up on the actual pizzas. Who cares? I'll take that veggie eating when I can get it!

The final product...why is my pizza the only one with green stuff?

mmmm...books

Sloane just eats books up. I am afraid to take her to the library.

hey baby

I have always wondered what it feels like to be pregnant. To give birth. Once I knew I wouldn't ever have children or experience any of it first-hand, I wondered if I seriously missed out on something, if I should have these pangs of remorse and deprivation by not being able to deliver (pun intended) the one event that makes you a "real woman," or if I should be a little wistful that I missed the pregnancy/birth experience, or if I'm really and truly fulfilled with the birth experience I had as an adoptive parent. I think I found some answers today...

My little brother's wife had her second baby today and I got to be there for the birth of my new, incredibly handsome nephew. She is such a gracious, loving and thoughtful woman that she had invited me for her daughter's birth two years ago because she thought it might be important to me to have that experience. Of course, I was sick. Sick as a dog. Like damn near pneumonia sick. So I missed it. Today I got my do-over.

I made it to the hospital just in time. Like, seriously, one more wrong turn or a pee break and I might have missed it. Saw a little bloody show. Saw the pushing (way less dramatic than on TV but, then again, Becks is a rock star). Saw the baby come out (which reminded me a little of Total Recall...sorry Becky and baby boy, just being real). Managed not to get any inappropriate pictures or video of the vah-jay-jay, per strict instructions. Saw the little guy take his first breath, belt out his first cry, open his eyes the first time, calm at the feel of his mother's breast and heart beat, slap the nurse's hand away. Fell in love. 100% and then some. And ended up in tears.

After some reflection, I think I'm good. I don't feel like I've "missed out" by not being pregnant. Or by not actually giving birth. I have loved my children wholeheartedly from minute one. Second one. Nobody sat on my bladder, gave me heartburn, kicked me in the middle of the night, or made me puke for 9 months, but the second we heard "we want you," we became parents. With less hormones. That is undeniable. The pain points were different. Wondering if you'd walk away with baby, how the relationships would work, that kind of thing. So my takeaways from seeing a baby born are, perhaps, life-changing. Or at least attitude-changing.

• I kind of wish that I had been there in the room when they were born even though the reasons we weren't are completely fine. But there's a little magical bond that got delayed for us, and I would have loved to see the joy and love on their birth family's faces at that moment. Although, maybe that would have been harder. I already ache for them every day. Would those pictures turn a sweet twinge into full-on pain? Or would I continue to adore the fact that pictures we have of our children's birthdays have their birth families and us hugging, smiling, loving? I think that's pretty amazing.
• I kind of wish that our family had been able to join us, in the hospital, to celebrate these children and welcome them to our family like most children are. Kind of like that last scene in Parenthood (always makes me cry because that is SO my family!). Where you have almost too many family members there to welcome them and to love them and to embrace them into your life
• I wish all hospitals knew how to deal with adoptions. They can either make you feel like parents from day one, or awkward intruders.  
• Whoa! When you see that stuff on TV about bowling balls through a straw and "how are you doing that?!?!?!"...all true. Women are pretty fucking amazing. 

When you're in an adoption situation, no matter how secure you are, you are on an island. We spent 3 days in the hospital both times, trying to figure out our role. Balancing hopes of supreme joy with fears of excruciating devastation. Alone. Without our moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, friends and confidants. Loving this baby - our baby - 100 and a gazillion bazillion percent, wanting to share this child with the ones we love...and yet knowing, fearing that there's a good chance something will blow up, minds will be changed, and you will come home with nothing but broken dreams and broken hearts and no baby. Those days in the hospital might be the most joyous, petrifying, insecure, blessed, paranoid days I've ever had in my life. And we did it twice. And no matter what the "norm" is or what I know now or what I "kind of" wish, our babies and the experiences we had are still the most perfect and wonderful moments in my life.

Now that I've seen the birth process, I think the only thing I might truly regret - or maybe the right word is "covet" - from today is a feeling. Security. Knowing for sure, 100 and a gazillion bazillion percent that this child is yours, from the moment he or she takes their first breath, to the first time grandma or favorite aunt or best friend gets to hold the little nugget, to the moment you strap them in their car seat and drive home at 5MPH. All of the other stuff...the love, the connection, the family, the memories. That has never been a question or an issue.

So, hey new baby. Welcome to the family! You are in good company! And thanks for the lesson. I owe you one.