Hickory, Dickory, Socks!

No, I've not turned into the Incredible Hulk. I love these toe socks for running. They keep my feet from rubbing together causing major blisters. I found these jewels on Amazon for cheap! I like cheap running toe socks better than toe socks. (But not better than cake!)

I went to the bathroom today. I shut the door. This is what happened. Apparently my "bath rooming" is great entertainment for him to want to be in there so badly. 

Today, this guy just wants to be by himself. This is highly unusual, so I fear a sickness or such may be on it's way, or another growth spurt. 

He asked to be naked today. Not very naked, just a little naked. He cracks me up!

    My hottie husband is home, so all is right in our sphere of the universe and I'm off the single mom status. 

     Hope you all have a great weekend!

The Shirt Really Makes The Man

Dressing boys is about as fun as losing toenails. I do both of those things. I usually go for casual/play most days, which translates to "I don't care if you get your clothes so dirty I can't get the stains out!" But for those occasions we venture into public, I go for a "Let's make the baby loom like a smaller version of dad."

But then I'm gifted with gems like the outfit in the picture and dressing boys becomes fun! This shirt brings me so much happiness and bumps the cuteness factor up by at least a thousand percent!

I hope it makes you as happy as me!

You can't go wrong with the "thumbs up/down."

Good grief that's cute!!

Enjoy your Thursday!

Whompings and Ugly Cupcakes

My boys like to whomp and by whomp I mean they like to rough house. Their dad is the official whomper. I take no part in it. But Dad's been gone for over a week now and the boys were crazy for a whomping. I found this out the hard way when little sweet James tackled me when I made the mistake of sitting in the floor. And then John Owen joined in and I was being whomped. I quickly cried "uncle" and ran for cover in the kitchen. 

I succeeded in making the ugliest cupcakes known to man today. Check out the picture below. They were undoubtedly ugly, but man were they good. I may or may not have eaten two or three. It's really hard for me to tell because I usually eat almost all of it and then throw some of it away so I don't have to count it as a whole one. Psycho, I know!

I do have some good-looking boys though. The proof is below. 

Good-night friends!  

Yes, that's blue cake with poop brown frosting. 

Good-looking boy #1

Good-looking boy #2

Epiphanies and Bedtimes

I've had a few epiphanies lately. One is that I'm an exaggerator. I big one. (I'm not exaggerating there.) I'm addicted to funny and like to tell stories in such a way to elicit a laugh or two or three. My last three posts are evidence of this issue. I hope you laugh and don't take me so seriously. I realize I could seem quite crazy. (But isn't everyone a little crazy?)

Secondly, I epiphanied (this isn't a word, but it sounds funnier than "realized") something about sweet baby James. I'm apparently stupid or didn't really pay attention when I was reading all those adoption books because I feel this is something I should have figured out a while ago, but it took a friend who's also adopted just telling me her "first year home" experience to epiphany this. Are you ready for it?!!

James struggles with insecurity. No brainer I know, but sometimes and by sometimes I really mean a lot of the time, I forget. Yep, I forget that he struggles because he doesn't always seem to.

But then something in our daily routine changes, like his dad leaving in the early morning hours one day and not being there. He has no way of using words to explain that this has caused him to distress.

And I didn't really pick up on why he was "acting out" until last night. I went for a run with my running buddy and left my boys at her house with her husband and daughter. I was gone a little over an hour and when I got back, sweet baby James was fussy, irritable, and distant. It was almost like the littlest thing upset him. And then it hit me that he was struggling probably with feeling like I wasn't coming back. 

Of course he'd struggle with this because this is all he knows of people, except for these past four months.

So that's my epiphany. I feel thankful for friends who share their stories and don't just sugar-coat things. Things really can't always be rainbows and butterflies and it really helps when people just "tell it like it is." So I'm thankful for this little insight that will help me reassure this sweet boy that I'm not going anywhere. I'm forever!

And now on to bedtimes. I love bedtime this week. I've bumped it up a little and get almost giddy with excitement when it's close. I don't do anything exciting once the boys go to bed, but it's nice to sit in sweet solitude and just have a complete thought.

Have a great weekend friends! Thanks for reading!

Kicking and Screaming

Sometimes I have these surreal experiences. They are really almost like out of body experiences. I'm standing outside of myself watching the situation unfold before me. I had one of those today. I had the bright idea that I'd take John Owen to Lexington to be fitted for the suit he's going to wear as ringbearer in a friend's wedding. Of course I did all the right things beforehand. I had a precious conversation with my little angel about what was expected of him and how he should act and how I understood that he might be nervous  or even a little afraid of some strange person taking his measurements, but this was something that we needed to do.
 I even offered a great "incentive"/"bribe" for good behavior. We'd passed a cupcake store that was right next to a Starbucks and I felt I'd won the lottery. I envisioned this great mother/son date (you those things I read about happening in other people's blogs, but have never really experienced in the same way in my own life) where we shared a gourmet cupcake and I sipped a white chocolate mocha and we giggled about toddler things. I felt great about it all. I thought, "We've got this in the bag. Yay me!"
What a gross understatement! All was well as we entered the store and asked the sweet, young gal to take his measurements until she whipped out the measuring tape and tried to touch him. He recoiled like she had poked him with a red-hot fire poker! Honestly, I wish I was exaggerating and this was all a bad, bad dream, but I'm not! He began to pull away from me and scream. Yes, you read that correctly. Not whine (which would be preferable to screaming) or even use the LARGE vocabulary that he has and uses EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY WHEN WE ARE AT HOME. He just screams.
I spoke quietly to him telling him to stop pitching a fit and to calm down. "Everything will be fine, sweet grasshopper!" This is where I stepped outside of myself because deep inside I wanted to melt into the floor like the Wicked Witch from the Wizard of Oz.
Well, a trip to the bathroom for more "talking", a bathroom that isn't really for the public, but is instead in the very back of the store and my sweet angel was ready to have his measurements taken. He even managed a smile---something I couldn't muster up until we made it all the way back to our house.
Needless to say, no body got a cupcake (I was probably more sad about this than John Owen) and the ride home was not fun.
It's times like this that I wish I could just forget the consequence and get the cupcake, but I just can't give up on training my kids yet. I've seen those parents. The ones who would show up for parent/teacher conferences and either A) sleep during it or B) tell me it's not their problem.
I've experienced those kids whose parents gave up back in kindergarten when Little Bobby wouldn't stop pulling Sally's hair or they checked out around middle school when puberty hit their house like a locomotive.
No. I've got to stay tuned in and do the tough stuff, but I TOTALLY understand the desire to just let the boys act like a bunch of hoodlums, eat suckers for lunch and dinner and never take baths. Sometimes I wish Goldfish did constitute as a vegetable and ice cream as a good dairy choice. Sometimes I wish it didn't matter how late they stayed up or if they were respectful or kind.
But only sometimes...It does matter and I'll just keep on keeping on and though I always feel like I'm on a island alone when my kid misbehaves in public, I know there are others out there. Those other mothers who know what I'm talking about, who've been in that store or at the restaurant when the three year old refuses to act like he/she has any sense and you feel like you've been stripped naked and everyone can see all your parenting failures. Yep, that's how I feel sometimes. Like today the gal in the suit store with her thin body and blonde bangs that she kept flipping out of her eyes knew I'm not really good at this "mom-thing".
To everyone else out there on the same island as me---Carry on! I believe in you and know that you're putting in the hours and the time and that sometimes kids just do what they want!
We should get together and have a cupcake...or two.

Butts and Jesus

Butts. I wipe my share of them everyday and I only have two boys. I'm sure wiping boys' butts are easier than girls because it's quick. Boys (at least mine) don't care how clean their butts are. A few swipes with the "wipey" or toilet paper or both if needed and off they go. James never cares if his butt gets wiped. He actually hates it and by hate, I mean loathes it. He's comfortable in a dirty diaper apparently. It's not unusual to hear Zack (he usually takes dirty diaper duty (the pun is intended)) say, "Stop crying James. I'm the one who should be crying." Hysterical...and true. 

Another favorite is when he says, "One day you'll have to wipe my butt." Equally funny and most likely true.

John Owen is a little more complicated. He's almost four (Don't judge me if your two year old is already reading and tying his own shoes) and he can be heard throughout the house or probably outside yelling, "I need my butt wiped!!!" It's always yelled loudly and frantically. Mostly because he doesn't like to wait for anything, but neither do I so I understand how he feels.

I know this butt-wiping phase will pass and I'll probably think back upon it fondly and wish my boys were babies again and I could wipe their butts just one more time. (Maybe not.)lol

I'm single-moming it over here while Zack is away on a mission trip, so while he's being the hands and feet of Jesus, I'm wiping butts (and noses still because there are still boogers). I do get to throw in the occasional lesson about God while wiping butts. It's usually in response to a question of how does poop come out of our bodies and why do we poop and why do we have butts. Oh little grasshopper, because that is how God made us and designed us and it is a good design! (And praise Jesus for extra thick wipes/toilet paper!)

Little minds do ponder everything and in no particular order. I really do think their thoughts crash around like bumper cars and if you have a kid like John Owen, they verbalize those thoughts as they come to them and out pops just whatever from their mouths.

John Owen asked the difference between girl dogs and boy dogs and the very next question was how Jesus came to be in your heart and then back to girl dogs and boy dogs.

From the mouths of babes, folks. I don't try to make sense of it. I'm just along for the ride!

So enjoy your Monday and if you're still wiping butts, I hope you, too get to throw in the occasional discussion of Jesus!

Boogers and Boo-Boos

Boogers are a constant part of my life. They're like a third child who doesn't say much and stays mostly hidden until we're in public and people want to talk to my boys. Then, well then the boogers show up. James' nose is the biggest contributor, but John Owen can hold his own in this booger fest that we have going on over here. Today, my friend, Lee Ann and I ran the Capital Stampede 10k downtown. We're training for a half-marathon in September and hit this race up for a nice change from our routine of running ridiculously early in the morning before most of you have even hit a good REM sleep cycle.
We did really well and raced across the finish line to PR. I walked over to my little family of Zack, John Owen and James and yes, you guessed the boogers.
Of course no one had a tissue, so James' booger, my third child just hung out (literally) with us while we cooled off and watched the rest of the finishers. John Owen sat in the stroller with his knees in his chest because he face planted on the sidewalk scraping his knees in the fiercest way. So my life today has been boogers and boo-boos.
We celebrate four months home with James this weekend. When I look back at the photos we took when we first met him and then first picked him up from the orphanage, I'm stunningly amazed at the change in him. He's a great kid and a lot of fun even on the most challenging of days.
He and John Owen love to play together and by play I mean push, shove, wrestle, roll around on the floor together. I consider that playing where boys are concerned. No one bleeds and no bones protrude, so I call it a great success that they are getting along so well! Can I get an amen? There are occasional tears, but unless you can show me blood or a broken something, "ain't nobody got time for that!"
Praise God for four months with James and even more so, Praise God for a Godly, loving husband who is an incredible father to my two boys!
I love it when John Owen says, "I don't want to be with you. I like Dad!" Yep, I like Dad too and completely understand why you'd want to be with him!  James, well, he just hangs out with me and his boogers!
Hope you have a great weekend and Father's Day---booger and boo-boo free!

Orphan Justice

Just like there are many orphans in the world, there are many books about orphans, how to help orphans, how to adopt orphans, how to parent an adopted child. I've read a lot of them and they've been helpful and informative, but none have fully covered the issue of the Orphan and God's command of His people like Johnny Carr's Orphan Justice. This book goes beyond the standard book about adoption and encompasses what it means to move beyond the idea that caring for the orphan equals entering the adoption process. When we think of orphan care only in terms of adoption, we tend to shy away from doing anything because we don't feel led to adopt, we already have many children, or feel overwhelmed by the idea of grafting a person into our families. Carr removes this excuse from every believer in his book.
He covers many topics including adoption, but goes so far beyond adoption that it truly is a book about caring for the orphan. His statistics are staggering and convicting, not so much in the sense that each of us should begin the adoption process immediately, but that we should each be thinking through and then acting in ways that will bring justice to the orphans around the world. He covers topics from orphans and HIV/AIDS to Orphans and Abortion.
After each chapter he gives practical ways that each person can Do Something to bring justice to the orphans. These practical steps are doable by everyone; they'll just take a surrendering to the God-given command in His word that we take care of those less-fortunate and orphans are those less-fortunate.
Carr's book is an invaluable tool to every believer and to the church in this war on orphans. It is written humbly, yet his words will convict. His ideas are not new, but his story is so real, he is so apart of this war that you can't help but feel the weight of his words.
According to UNICEF there are 153 million children worldwide who have lost one or more parents and are considered orphans. Orphan Justice confirms that we are called to action, but unlike other books, it goes beyond the statement of fact to give readers practical ways to be apart of this war on orphans in our world.
The question that remains is will you do your part? You can start by reading the book. It's easy, quick and won't require much of your time and could possibly catapult you onto a life-transforming path that brings justice to the orphan.

Did You Hear What I Said?

Sometimes (or a lot of times) we don't hear what a person said. I don't mean that he/she didn't speak loudly enough or some other noise kept us from hearing clearly. I mean they say something and by the time it makes it through all of our "stuff", our past experiences, our hurts, our fears, we hear something different. Maybe someone says "I can't meet you for dinner" or "I can't come to your party". We may hear "You aren't a priority so I'm not meeting your for dinner" or so on. We've all got our "stuff" that we filter every experience through. That's just what our pasts do for us--a special gift if you will.
That explains my James. He's got a small past that's a big ole whopping past and he filters all of these new experience through that past. It's all he knows right now. We can mature and grow and begin to understand that we can't filter new experiences through our old ones. We can't think that no one is trustworthy just because someone close to us in our past wasn't trustworthy. Make sense?
Life in our home as been interesting these past three and half months. James has made incredible advancements and is doing incredibly well considering.
Yet, until today there hadn't been a day that felt really good, like we were really getting somewhere with this whole grafting our family together thing. There had been snippets of good, like our trip to Florida. There was a whole lot of good during those seven days, but no day with extended periods of feeling like things were getting somewhere.

You see this face doesn't always look like this. Most of the day it's crinkled up and big ole tears are coming out of those gigantic eyeballs. I felt like a hamster in a cage running really fast, but never going anywhere really. I'd crawl into bed at night and think through all the ways I failed that day. (Not a happy way to end your days.)

I'd ponder and wonder why James wasn't learning that there were boundaries and rules established out of love. Not that I thought he'd "get it" immediately, but I couldn't understand the tenacity of his fight against them. Why after three and half months did he go back to the dvd player, even though every time before he'd been redirected or put in time out. I even thought perhaps he was incapable of understanding and maybe never really would, but then I'd watch him manipulate a stranger in public with his grin or his coy looks until they gave him something he wanted and then he's change his expression and stop interacting with them. I knew he could get it, but something was off.

Our house has been a relatively peaceful place. It's something I strive for. I want my husband and children to want to be home and not to dread it. It's not always an extremely neat place or beautifully decorated, but it's been theirs. This all changed when James came home. 

There was no peace. There were tears and screams, from James and John Owen (and maybe me, too). 

Stuff didn't get done because I was refereeing or training or correcting or cleaning up some new mess.

Those faces are the faces I wanted to see during the day at home--smiling faces. We visited our International Adoption Pediatrician again last week. During the visit we discussed James' lack of language acquisition. He is behind as are all children adopted internationally. Most progress and get on target within six months of being in the states or within the year. James of course had severely stopped up ears. It's been one month since he had tubes put in and his hearing improved so drastically, yet he has a vocabulary of...wait for it...3-5 words. Of course language is a huge part of our issue at home. He signs for us for his basic needs like food, drink, please, but that's it. 

The rest of the time it's a big mystery if he understands what I'm saying or not. He is a man of many sounds and noises, but few words. He come to us saying "bye" and "nona". Only twice has he called me "mama". Most of the time he'll call anyone "nona" and points to himself if you ask him where mama is. (This is somewhat comical.) I know he'll pick these things up. I know he'll get it eventually. He's a smart boy.

Saturday and Sunday I went to bed desperately needing a peaceful house again, praying that God would give me wisdom and help me know how to help my boy. I didn't want to keep going to bed defeated and tired and just plain ole grumpy because I'd spent my whole day fussing at John Owen or correcting James.

And then this morning as the morning began like all the others had with John Owen playing with something and James trying to get whatever John Owen has, John Owen yelling and calling for me and me trying to get James to play with his own toys, I had a revelation. It came out sheer desperation and frustration and it was a beautiful gem that changed our day.

I got out the pack-n-play, set it up in the family room, put James' toys in it and plopped him in it. I expected tears and screams and a big ole fit (he can throw a mean one). But instead I got peace, sweet blissful, beautiful peace. James played happily with his toys confined to his little space and John Owen played beside the pack-n-play with his toys.

It changed everything about our day. As I reflected upon why it would make a difference, I thought about how James spent the first part of his life in a little room and though he's made leaps and bounds, I don't think he can handle a lot of open space. Maybe he just needed the comfort and even protection of his own space to free him up to play. 

You see James interprets everything through his past experiences and they weren't so good. It's funny it took me so long to figure out he needed even tighter boundaries to make him feel safe enough to just play, but I'm thankful for the wisdom that God imparted to me today. I'm thankful for the peace today.