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.

strawberry rocks forever

We are growing our own strawberries in a little patch in our garden. Unfortunately, the birds are getting more of the berries than we are. So I saw this crafty idea on Pinterest (#love) where you paint little rocks to look like berries and place them in the garden. It's supposed to fool the birds and after they peck a few untasty rocks, they move on to something else. Seems like a longshot but hey! I like crafts and painting and it seemed like something fun to do with the kids. So they helped me pick out strawberry shaped rocks, and we painted them up and stashed them between the berry plants like a fruity Easter egg hunt.

And then we stood back to admire our handy-work. Really cute but judging by the number of half-eaten berries, the kids are more fooled than the birds. Especially Sloane. I actually caught her with a strawberry-rock in her mouth.

mothers' day

My friends had sweet, all-smiley pix with their kids for Mothers Day.
This is our best take...Tagg wishing he was throwing rocks in the pond,
and Sloane going for my bracelet. At least my eyes are open.
Welcome to my mom life! I L-O-V-E it.

Mother's Day, for me, is an incredibly special day. There were days, years even, where I never thought I would be somebody's mom. I love my mother so much, and my mother-in-law and my aunts and so many of my friends are amazing, incredible and inspirational moms that I feel honored to be in "the club." Scott and I had a little romantic escape at Snowbird that included a lovely dinner, a hot tub with mountain views, and much-needed massages in the morning, and then we spent a fun-filled day with the kids. Perfect Mothers' Day in my opinion.

And then I got this text from Juno: Happy Mother's Day! I hope it is a great one :) love you all so much!

AND this Facebook message from Bella: I hope your Mother's Day is wonderful [: You deserve it! I think I could have interviewed every mom in the world, and still never found one that came close to you!

I cried a little. Happy tears. They made me feel...like a Mother. I'm not sure how to describe this exactly, because I feel like a mother every day when I'm with Tagg and Sloane. But I think somehow when you're an adoptive parent, especially one with such an open relationship with your birth parents, you feel like you share these children in a way. At least that's how it is for me.

Sure, you're their mom. You do all the hard stuff - diapers and discipline, patience and potty training, late nights and last-minutes, college savings accounts and clean up. But you get all the good stuff too - the hugs, the night-night kisses, the "firsts," the giggles, the random and hilarious comments and dances, and all those moments that make parenthood so delicious. But for me, I share these children with their birth moms. I'm aware, always, that I made a pact with them and our babies to be not just a "whatever" mom, but a great mom. And that's not always an easy promise to live up to.

So knowing that I not only get the joy of this handsome, clever, hilarious boy and this adventurous, lovely, whip-smart girl, not to mention the entire "mom" experience...and that they support me in the journey? That they appreciate me and respect our relationship enough to send those messages? Next to my children, that is THE best Mothers' Day gift I could ever hope for. And every success that these girls have in their lives is just a special bow on top. A bow that makes me proud and warm inside. I hope to get the same gift every year. It will just get richer and more special as time goes on.

I still never know exactly how to respect their place in this relationship. Hallmark doesn't make "birth mom" Mothers Day cards. And it seems like it could be offensive or hurtful, or something not right, to send them a card or an email acknowledging that it's their day too in a weird, unconventional way. No matter what, I hope they know that every moment of every Mothers Day and most days, we have them in our hearts and minds. Because without their mother's love, I would not be celebrating this very special day.

*There's an Open Adoption Round Table blog about Mothers Day...lots of great conversations that we are now part of...

how does it feel?

The Open Adoption Roundtable posted a discussion topic today...how do you feel after a visit? A little like you've been through an emotional sausage grinder, I think but hey! sausage is pretty yummy when it's done. Let me see if I can capture some of the feelings that ricochet around your heart and head and family after a visit.

Full of Love. We always say that you can't ever have too many people to love you. We are extremely lucky to have these amazing people who started as strangers and became part of our family. Our love for them is genuine, and so is their love for us. It's amazing how much love is out there when you open your heart to it. We chat about life and the weather and marvel over how amazing our kids are, like we would with aunts and cousins who live out of state. Thoughtful little gifts show how much they care for our whole family whether it's a special book that Bella knows Tagg would love, or a cute outfit that I know Juno picked out specially for Sloane. Sometimes my heart practically hurts and my eyes well up with tears, I'm so overflowing with love.

Blessed. How on earth did we get so lucky to have these amazing, perfect, beautiful children?! These people. That's how. These selfless young women and men, and their families, who gave us a gift for which there will never be enough thanks. We are blessed that they chose us, blessed with these amazing babies, and blessed that they are now part of our life and are willing to figure it all out and make mistakes and enjoy the wonderful...together.

Insanely lucky. We'll probably never win the Lotto. We must have used up a lifetime of good luck getting these adorable kids. But to get the extended family too? They are all, all of them, so special and wonderful and loving and normal (let's face it, that's a big one!). They are beautiful and smart and funny and fun. And they could have done this. But they made an incredibly hard decision and took a huge gamble on us. And I guess we gambled too. Open adoption takes a lot of trust, and a lot of openness. We've been lucky that everyone in this crazy relationship respects the relationship, and puts the kids first.

A little sad. Like I said, they could have done this. And I know that after every time we talk or meet for a picnic in the park, they have to leave their kids, and deal with the separation again. They have to file away those fleeting moments - a hug, a facial expression that reminds them of themselves as a child, the chime of a giggle that sounds familiar. Trying, in a few minutes or hours, to absorb all the change that weeks or months of growing up has affected on the baby they placed so lovingly in our arms. Hoping that they didn't say or do anything awkward, that they didn't push too much, hug too tightly. And wondering how long it will be till they can do it again. It makes me feel a little sad.

Relief. I think before every meeting, you work up in your head a list of all the worst things that could happen. From a bad hair day or an awkward conversation to a full-on meltdown or...who knows, random kidnapping attempt. Seriously, your head can get a little crazy. And when it all goes well, and you've added another brick to the foundation of trust you're building together, it feels good. And right. And you're relieved.

Wonder. How on earth are we doing this? How are we making it work? There's no book. No instruction manual. There are hardly even any good conversations online to help guide you (except this one of course). We're just winging it. And what's next? What happens when the kids are old enough to understand who Bella and Jacob and Juno and Paulie are, and how they fit in our family? How are we going to explain adoption to them? How do we make sure they know how much they're loved by all of us? What if, in their teen angst years, they don't want this relationship anymore and how do we help them and the birth parents deal with that? What if their birth parents "move on" and don't stay in touch, or what if some do and some don't? And when they have children that they parent, how does that relationship work? We know it's going to get easier in some ways, and harder in lots of others. I suppose we're going to keep walking ahead blindly, guided by nothing more than love and faith.

the fine print...

I've been doing what I can to get my kids to brush their teeth regularly. For Easter, they got Dora and Cars toothbrushes with corresponding toothpaste. Cute, right? And the kids LOVE it.

We brush their teeth first to get a good clean and show them how it's done, and then we give them two or three chances to brush by themselves. This usually equates to them sucking all the toothpaste off the brush and then playing in the water till they get a refill. Suck, "brush", rinse, repeat. I was feeling pretty good about this. They love brushing their teeth!

Last night, while this was going on, I started reading the toothpaste label. Are you kidding me?! It actually says this:


"Keep out of reach of children under 6 years of age.  If more than used for brushing is accidentally swallowed, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center right away."

The Poison Control Center?! For Dora toothpaste?! What in the hell is that all about?! Healthy Smiles my ass, Dora. And apparently the American Dental Association knows all about this, publishes the warning on their website and still...STILL gives it their approval:

"The ADA Council on Scientific Affairs’ Acceptance of Colgate^® for Kids Toothpaste (Dora, Littlest Pet Shop, Bakugan, Transformers and SpongeBob) is based on its finding that the product is effective in helping to prevent and reduce tooth decay, when used as directed." 

Used as directed? Are you kidding me? What 2 to 4 year old is NOT going to chow down more of this bubble-gum flavored, cartoon-endorsed dental goodness than is "directed?" NONE. No normal kid will abstain from the yummy probably-tooth-decay-preventing toothpaste because the label says just use a "pea-size amount". Especially if their parents don't read the damn fine print! Let's face it, most kids don't even know what a pea is and if they did, they probably wouldn't need the candy-flavored toothpaste in the first place.

So my kids have sucking down what I thought was an ADA-approved, child-safe toothpaste that would keep them from getting cavities and instead, they're ingesting something that is apparently the equivalent of lighter fluid. Thanks, Colgate, ADA, Dora and whoever else has been promoting this.

I am becoming more of a hippie, naturalist every time I get blindsided by this kind of stuff. Organic toothpaste, anyone? And read the fine print on that...you just never know.

Me, Tiff and Natalie...my crazy running girls.
That look on our faces is "it's 21 degrees and we are shivering
and not trained enough. Let's GO already!"

The first race of my 4 half-marathons in a month was Saturday. In spite of the 4:30am wake-up call, the hour and half drive (with stops) to get to the race, and the 21 degree temperature at the start. I couldn't feel my fingers or toes for about the first 2 miles.

What I could feel was my belly. For the second time in a dozen races, I had to pull a pit stop at mile 3. I am oddly proud of this fact because I no longer have some of the inner pipes that most people do and digestion can be a challenge on a regular day. Most runners deal with "emergencies," waiting anxiously in line at port-a-potties along the route, dancing from foot to foot battling an urgent inner turmoil that could end with some serious embarrassment, and an equally urgent desire to be back pounding down the course chasing all the people who passed them while they were waiting. Anyhow, it goes without saying that joining that line was a "bummer." I never really recovered after that and the run was a slog. A beautiful slog.

I really thought this was going to be the perfect carb-loading,
belly-friendly, pre-race meal. It was delicious and easy to make.
The results were not so great. I do not blame the turkey tetrazzini.

Running is funny. You spend so much time in your head, having a conversation with yourself about everything - life and death, inspiration, going faster, not quitting, not stopping. That ache in your right hamstring, that hill you're going to have get over, a lovely old barn that makes you want to stop and take a picture because it reminds you of Girl Scout camp. Why can't people decide which side of the road to run on? How come people are tent camping when it's this cold? How come that woman is snorting and grunting like a pig? How anyone could run in shorts in these temperatures? Realizing your half-assed-I'm-busy-excuses training program was, as always, insufficient so you start making deals with yourself about how you'll do it better this time, starting tomorrow. The to-do list for the day, the month, for your life is flying through your brain like an old-fashioned stock ticker-tape and then it's completely erased by the sight of three horses galloping through a field, breath misting from their nostrils, a glassy lake, barren trees and snow-covered mountains serving as a postcard-perfect background and you think you know what life is all about.

For the first six miles you think you're going to PR (get a personal record), for the last 7 you're wondering why the fuck you even got out of bed this morning for this insanity and if that one, lone cheerleader on the road might give you a lift to the finish line.

And that's life, isn't it? Maybe that's why we do it. Because you get out of bed, when it would be easier to pull the covers around your head and hit snooze, to get on the roller coaster. That up and down, wild journey where pain meet beauty. Where your weakness meets your strength. Where your perfect inspired dream-life meets the have-to's of every day life. Where you get to talk to you for a couple of uninterrupted hours and figure out some things about life, and yourself. Where you know that, no matter what, you have friends who are with you for different parts of the ride, getting your butt out of bed, shouting encouragement along the way, walking by your side when you need them, and cheering for you when you cross the finish line...always thinking you are an amazing, powerful woman.

For a little race of 600 people, this run was so
professionally run. Water, bathrooms, transportation, medals,
breakfast at the end. Very impressed by Striders Winter Racing Circuit!

And at the end of 13.1 miles (don't discount that last tenth...it's a bitch), you get a medal. It doesn't matter if you ran your best race or your worst. All that matters is that finished. And hopefully you had fun doing it. I know I did.