December is trying to kill me

When last we spoke, we were preparing for Trae's 9th birthday. And it seemed like all was going to be right in the world. And then December actually hit, and we haven't slowed down since.

For Trae's actual birthday we had a quiet night eating with friends (chicken on a bone, of course) and then we came home for cake. Simple enough and very similar to how I celebrated most of my birthdays as a child.  I remember very few birthday parties when I was a kid, but most of them were similar--a few friends, some cake and ice cream, and that was about it. I remember a few industrious moms who had a game or two involving either pinning a tail on a pre-printed donkey or dropping clothespins into a jar. Nothing fancy. No treat bags or elaborate themes. Just friends and fun.

So, for the love, when did I turn into one of THOSE people? A PINTEREST MOM! Last year we simplified and had a party at an indoor swimming pool. Get a pool, add friends, serve cake. Bing, bam, done. But, not this year. I decided it might be "cheaper" and "more fun" to have a party at home. And did I mention it had to be a party for BOTH boys since their birthdays fall at the beginning and the end of the month? We began with theme, and since both boys are big Hog fans (and the ideas on Pinterest looked so cute), it was "suggested" that maybe we have a Razorback tailgate theme. And they both agreed. Initially.

I should have known I was going to have issues when Will woke up the next morning and announced he didn't WANT a Razorback football party. He wanted a BASEBALL party! So, being the good mom I am, I just went back to the (Pinterest) board and decided we could do a baseball/football Razorback tailgate. Then it was ON. I found cupcake designs and tablescapes and tons of fun games we could play. I designed party favors and did all the other neurotic things that I never imagined I would do.

What I didn't plan, however, was how I was actually going to pull off all of those fabulous things in the midst of DECEMBER, the busiest month of the year. And did I mention it was at my HOUSE? Which also had to be cleaned and decorated for Christmas. But I could do it. Because Pinterest also shows me all kinds of inspirational quotes like, "she believed she could, so she did." So I made a schedule (see Pinterest board: organization) and I bought some vinyl and I got started.

And then I also worked. And tried to buy a few Christmas presents. And put up a Christmas tree. And did the thousand other things that working moms do every day, but especially in December. And then, right before this fabulous birthday party that I had been working my tail off for, I realized it had become WAY more about me and my pretty party plans than it had about my children. You know, the ones for whom I was HAVING THE PARTY!

Somehow, mainly thanks to the weather (can I get an Amen for a 70 degree Saturday in December????), we had a fun party. And do you know what was the highlight for my children? Not the party favors, not the custom Razorback cupcakes, and certainly not the hand painted Razorback we forgot to pin a tail on. Nope. It was playing in the back yard with their friends. The same thing we could have done without ever looking at one Pinterest board. Yes, it was a good thing I had a plan just in case the weather had not cooperated, but the same ingredients that made parties great when I was a kid still worked. We could have played hot potato and dropped clothespins in a jar, and my kids would have loved it simply because they were enjoying the company of their friends. And not one child ever looked at my lights and said, "wow, Mrs. Harris, thanks so much for making sure I didn't have to look at any dreadful cobwebs!"

I'm a little older than most of the parents of kids the same age as my kids, and maybe because of that I have a bit of a different perspective. While the helicopter circles a little closer to their kids, I sometimes choose to give mine a little more space. Or at least I try to. But then the mom guilt kicks in and I think, "but won't he be upset if all the other moms are doing ________ and his mom does something different?" And lately I've been giving in to that guilt more often than not. But that birthday party proved to me that sometimes less parenting is more. The organized games were fine, but kids enjoy being with kids. Period. And given the opportunity, games will break out and fun will happen naturally. Also, kids will eat cake whether it looks like a Razorback (#PinterestWin) or a "baseball" that appears as if it might be bleeding (#epicfail).

And with that lesson in mind, I'm now preparing for Christmas. And I'm again kicking myself because we don't have an Advent calendar, and our Elf hasn't parachuted in or made a snow angel in flour yet, and we have yet to make gingerbread houses. So maybe this won't be a Pinterest Christmas. But I'm vowing to plan less (mainly because time has run out to plan more) and to let a little fun happen. And also to stay off Pinterest. At least until January 1. When I'm sure I'll be back looking for inspirational quotes related to something entirely different.

How Deep

I really wanted to post something funny tonight. The last post was a little heavy and I was hoping to write something that let me use my sarcastic side. But I logged onto Facebook one last time before bed and I was reminded again just how difficult this life can be. We are supposed to be joyful this time of year, and I am certainly counting all my blessings, but there are just things on this side of eternity I will never understand. In just the last few months I have seen babies die and babies diagnosed with cancer. I have seen friends walk roads of infertility and cancer scares of their own. I have talked with parents whose children are facing demons they should never have to face simply because their biological parents made poor decisions. And, frankly, it just sucks.

So, tonight, I am again counting my blessings. But I am also praying for those of you walking a more difficult road right now. In the midst of the hard posts on Facebook tonight, I came across one post that includes the lyrics of this song. Tonight as I go to sleep I will pray that every one who reads this will be able to grasp How Deep The Father's Love for Us.

How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the man upon a cross
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom

Songwriters
Stuart Christopher Townend

To my (almost) 9 year old

Dear Trae,

On Tuesday you will celebrate your 9th birthday and I'm so excited to be spending it with you. This is the third time we've been able to celebrate your birthday together and, while this one won't be as elaborate as the first one we had together (you remember, the ninja turtle party for which I scanned Pinterest for weeks before), it is no less precious for me. 

You see, Son, with every one of your birthdays I marvel again at your miraculous life. You didn't have the easiest start in life, and the next four and a half years were probably even more difficult for you. I have a hard time even letting myself think about some of the things you endured during that time. But, endure you did. And along the way you developed a determination and resiliency that I envy. Because of your hearing and language issues, things don't come as easily for you as they do for others. But you never make excuses; you just work harder and use your other senses more. I watch you as you keenly observe the world around you in an attempt to make sense of it, and I'm amazed every time you master a new skill just by watching others ahead of you. 

Your determination still manifests itself as defiance a lot, and that's a struggle I imagine we will battle for the rest of our lives, but you are learning to channel it better. Just this weekend you told me you want to act more like a big boy and make better choices. I pray that is the case because, frankly, our battles wear me out sometimes. But I never want you to lose that determination completely. I just pray you learn to use it more productively. 

God has big plans for you, Trae. I know you remember your early years in ways you can't express yet. But someday you will have the words to talk about how those years shaped you into the person you are now and will be in the future. I pray your experiences will never make you bitter but will, instead, make you appreciate each opportunity you are given. Not because your dad and I "rescued" you from anything (PLEASE don't ever give us that credit), but because God himself had His hand on you from the beginning. Your story could have gone many different directions, and I will never understand why you had to travel the road you did, but I am so grateful you are ours at this point in your story. 

On this day every year I also think about the mother who gave you life. Although I will never understand the reasons why she made some of the decisions she made, I will be eternally grateful to her for your life. I don't doubt her love for you and I hope you don't either. She simply didn't know the best way to keep you safe. I am sure at some point you may want to reconnect with her in some way and I pray our relationship is such that I am not threatened by that, but instead am secure enough to help you in any way I can. 

My greatest wish for you this year is that you will continue to discover all the ways God loves you. You are just beginning to grasp the message of salvation and I pray costantly that your dad and I can adequately convey that message to you. It would be the greatest privilege of our lives to lead you and your brother to an authentic relationship with Christ. But, as I said before, words aren't necessarily your strong suit. So we are trying our best to SHOW you the gospel through our lives. And we fail constantly, but I pray you see enough of us depending on Him that you want that for your own life. Because, in the end, that is the key to it all. He is what sees us through the moments when our different backgrounds clash with yours. When your behaviors are more than I can handle  and I respond in a way that isn't helpful or glorifying to Him in any way, His mercies are what allow us to start over the next morning. And He is enough to overcome my failings and yours.

I am so proud of everything you've accomplished this year. Your reading has improved, you are understanding math more (even those tricky word problems), and you are becoming a leader in your classroom. You had a good baseball season and your golf coaches were amazed at your natural abilities. You are athletic and funny and you are a loving, caring big brother (when you're not trying to tear Will's head off). So, here's to 9 years old. May it be filled with chicken on a bone, vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce, and more blessings than you can imagine.

Love, Mom

Thank You Notes--Tonsillectomy edition

For those of you who follow me on FaceBook, I apologize for the steady stream of posts regarding my son's tonsillectomy. It's kind of been an all-consuming thing around here. But, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I've decided to give thanks for all the things I've enjoyed during the last week of being held hostage, uh, I mean tonsillectomy recovery. With apologies to Jimmy Fallon, here are some thank you notes.

Dear soft foods,
Thank you for being so smooth and squishy that any member of our family can eat you. Thank you for soup, and noodles, and noodle soup, and scrambled eggs, and Ramen soup. And also for ice cream. Yes, we tried to eat something that wasn't soft one night while we served the patient some soup, but we will never forget the death stares that caused. So, thank you for bland textures. And for overlooking the fact that I snuck out of the house yesterday to eat chips.

Dear Netflix,
I knew we would probably be watching a lot of TV during this recuperation. I underestimated, however, how much we would watch THE SAME THING on TV. Thanks to you, Netflix, we have unlimited access to Power Rangers. Which includes, but is not limited to, Power Rangers SPD, Power Rangers Mega Force, Power Rangers Mystic Force, Power Rangers Turbo, and probably Power Rangers, The Early Years. Yes, thank you, Netflix. Without you, I might have actually enjoyed a TV program.

Dear pain medicines,
Thank you for serving us so faithfully the first few days when the patient's pain was actually quite minimal. You were there every 3 hours all night long when we all should have been just sleeping. But everyone told us we would need you and we needed to stay ahead of the pain, so you were there. I'm still not sure why you chose to start betraying us about 4 days into the recovery, but thank you for the multiple fights you now cause daily. Mixed Berry Kool-Aid with an Ibuprofen shooter or Sprite laced with Tylenol are cocktails no bartender could come up with, but it's what we now resort to several times a day. Followed by coercion to actually drink the mess. So, thanks, pain meds. You work beautifully, but can't you just come in a flavor that's a little easier to disguise?

Dear nurses,

Thank you for what you do and for the loving way in which you do it. You have been given the spiritual gift of mercy and I am truly grateful for that. Recently, I have come to realize how difficult your daily jobs must be. Because I have realized I could NEVER be a nurse. You see, PTs have other qualities. We are much better at saying, "suck it up and do your exercises!" But I now understand that just yelling at a 5 year old to "suck it up and take your medicine" doesn't really work. Yes, I hug him and speak softly and try to empathize with how much I know he must be hurting, but my mercy has its limits. My husband has always said I am a horrible nurse. Now I know he is correct.

 Which brings me to my final thank you note.

Dear Baby Boy,
Since you came to us when you were 3, I never had the joy of an infant. Which meant I also never had the sleepless nights. Thank you for helping me to relive your infant days by waking up crying inconsolably every 1-2 hours. I do feel sorry for you when you wake me up, but that dissipates a little when you are back asleep 60 seconds later and I'm still wide awake thanks to the adrenaline you've caused me to release. I am usually able to fall back asleep. Just in time for you to wake up and do it all again. Thanks for that, son. Years from now, when you are a soundly sleeping teenager, I'm going to periodically run into your room and scream and the fall quietly back to sleep.

Finally, some serious thank yous. Thanks to all the friends who have called or texted to check on us. Thanks to the deliverers of ice cream and toys and movies for him, and treats and coffee for me. Thanks to my in-laws for taking a turn watching the kids so we could escape the house some last week. And thanks to my husband who can be tough when needed (see the aforementioned medicine fights), but who also can be incredibly tender when the situation calls for it.

I already had huge respect for parents of kids who require daily meds or who are dealing with serious illnesses, but this gives me a whole new level of respect. This will all be over in a few days. And that's definitely something to be thankful for.

Ready or Not, Here We Go

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March 19, 2013.  The day we met our children for the first time.  The most earth-shattering day of our lives, but in many ways, it was also one of the most ordinary.

The night before (after the initial meeting with DHS), Pam and I exchanged a few emails and decided the next afternoon would be the best day to meet the boys in person.  As I recall, the weather was supposed to be cold and rainy the rest of the week and that day (a Tuesday) was going to be our best chance to have good weather.  We agreed to meet at a local park where the boys were already comfortable, and we agreed that we would be introduced as nothing more than "some friends of Mom and Dad".  (Yes, they referred to them as Mom and Dad. Which shows you how much those boys were loved and accepted in their foster home.)

Of course, we were "friends of Mom and Dad" so the meeting was much less awkward than if we hadn't known the foster parents at all.  We spent a little time catching up with them, and then we just played.  We had been warned that the little guy might have a hard time warming up, especially to Rodney because he was typically more comfortable with women.  But soon the two of them were playing on the swing like they'd been friends for years.  Since Trae has a hearing impairment, one of our concerns was about how hard it would be to understand him.  That fear quickly dissipated when we realized we understood most everything he said.  And we certainly didn't have any worries about them physically after watching them on the playground.  Trae's natural athleticism quickly came out as he flew across the monkey bars.  He was 6 at the time and had no hesitation when we asked if we could take his picture and play with him for awhile.  Not to be outdone by big brother, Will also wanted a turn on the monkey bars.  He was 3 at the time and only wearing 18-24 month clothes, so he required a little assistance.  I still have the video of helping him cross those monkey bars for the first time.  And I can't watch it now without a silly grin on my face.  It was very easy to imagine myself as his mom.

After playing for about an hour, we just knew.  We were supposed to move forward with getting to know these boys a little more.  So we got goodbye hugs from both boys and let their foster parents know we would be contacting them soon.

On the way home, we made the phone calls we had simultaneously been anticipating and dreading.  We each called our parents to let them know we had met the boys that might become our sons.  I say we had been "dreading" it because we would be lying to say we weren't concerned about how they would receive the news.  They knew we were in the process of adopting, but they had no idea we had even received information on these two boys.  I'm not even sure they knew we were considering TWO children.  They also knew we were open to considering children of a different race, but actually telling them we were going through with it was a different story. But, like parents do, they celebrated with us and anxiously waited for us to send them pictures.

Later that night, we also set up our next date.  The following Saturday we spent time with just them and us, no foster parents.  We went to a local arcade (think low-end Chuck E. Cheese) and then to supper at Steak and Shake.  The arcade was about a 30 minute ride from their house, and we laugh now about the fact that there was TOTAL SILENCE from them the entire car ride.  I can only imagine the thoughts that were running through their little heads as we drove away.  I'm sure it was a mixture of confusion and "what the ????" Finally, as we pulled in the parking lot, Trae broke the silence with "Chuck E. Cheese!! I've been here before!" and from then on we had a great time.

After that first "date", we gradually moved into overnight visits.  And then one night became two, and weekend visits turned into week days and weekends, and then finally they were living at our place more than they were in their foster home.  We had a few bumps along the way trying to figure out the transition, especially with Will who was quite attached to Pam, but overall we couldn't have asked for it to go more smoothly.

Finally, just a few weeks later, we set a move-in date.  We had originally planned to transition them into living with us full time after school was out for the summer, but things were going so well that we didn't really see the need to drag out the process that much.  So the date was set and we started making plans to make these boys ours forever.

           Our first meeting, March 18, 2013

To be continued....
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The Messy Middle

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Remember those whiny years I talked about before? The years in Pocahontas were filled with a lot of those.  On the exterior, we couldn't have been better and, in many ways, things were wonderful.  We had good jobs, good friends, close relationships with our families, a house, and even a cute dog.  We traveled, ate at great restaurants, went where we wanted, whenever we wanted and were loving life.  When people asked the inevitable question, "when are you gonna have kids?" we would always respond with, "we're too BUSY to have kids!" And for many years, that was true.  Kids would be great if they happened, but we certainly weren't stressing about it.

Eventually, I turned 30 and we decided it was probably finally time to make it happen.  After all, kids wouldn't slow us down too much.  And we always planned on having them.  Truthfully, I had been ready for awhile but it took Rodney some time to get on the same page.  But then, it didn't happen.  And then, it still didn't happen.  And because that was a pretty painful time in which Rodney and I both spent some time in what we have since labeled "the pit", we are going to leave it at that.  Suffice it to say, neither of us was our best self during that time.  How our marriage survived those years is a testimony to the grace of God and the fact that both of us were just too stubborn to do anything else.  Looking back now, it was also the prayers and encouragement of some faithful friends that sustained us and helped drag us out of the pit.  Outside our home, our lives continued to look pretty great.  I started a new business ("this IS my baby! I don't need another one!"), Rodney went back to finish the degree he never finished, we won awards and accolades, got involved in every civic organization that would take us, and tried to act like we were FINE! (That's a word I used a lot.  Which a friend finally told me meant, "Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional")  But inside, things weren't quite as glorious.

In retrospect, the event that could have ended us, turned out to be the event that saved us.  Rodney decided to move to Conway.  Without me.  He decided UCA was the best place to pursue his Master's degree, but because he would only be there for a year or two, we decided the best move was for me to stay in Pocahontas and continue to build my fledgling business.

Together, and separately, we had to decide what that meant for us. Were we better apart or together? Were kids ever gonna happen and, if not, could we be okay with that? Who were we going to be if all those plans we had for the future didn't come to pass?

Somewhere around the fall of 2009, I decided the downward spiral had to stop. Remember all those grand plans I had initially? I gradually decided that maybe, just maybe, I needed to stop planning for awhile and just let life happen. Living alone, I had plenty of time for reflection, and I came to appreciate a lot of things in a brand new way. I missed my husband because, through every challenge, he remained my best friend. I had lots of healthy relationships and, even if God never saw fit to bless us with children, I was still okay.  I had family that loved me and, more importantly, a God who hadn't forgotten me. And while I couldn't make myself feel fulfilled any more than I could make a baby just magically appear on my doorstep, I could trust that maybe, just maybe, His plan WAS for my good and His glory. Even when it didn't look like that with my earthly eyes. 

In the meantime, I needed to take back control of what I could control and I started with my health. You see, while my world seemed to spiral downward, one thing I did VERY well was amuse myself with food. Bored? Eat! Depressed? EAT! Celebrating something? EAT!!! So, without much of a plan except for, "eat less, move more," I started that journey. And what I found along the way would lead to the greatest plan I never intended.

to be continued 
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Fall, 2009

In the Beginning...

Like all good stories, ours began with a chance meeting.  In the case of me and Rodney, it was second grade.  Yes, we were those people who met in elementary school.  I'd love to say it was love at first sight and we've been together since, but honestly I didn't even remember him being in that class until we talked about it much later.  I do, however, remember this awesome time in our lives

Prom. 1992.  We were madly in love (or maybe not; that seemed to change from week to week) and we were confident we were both going to do amazing things.  A year later, I went off to Lyon College, Rodney headed to BRTC (and later UCA), and we began laying the ground work for our awesome, well-planned lives.

Fast forward to 1997.  After a few more break ups and make ups, we finally said 'I do."  Three weeks later, we had settled in Conway and I started physical therapy school with no idea (but grand plans) about what the next few years would hold.

After PT school, I got the job of my dreams doing pediatric physical therapy in Russellville for a company called Friendship Community Care.  Rodney was working in real estate by this time and we had decided that Conway would be our home for years to come.  We had great friends, a great church, and were making great plans to raise our kids in this wonderful town.

To this day, I don't know what made him flip the switch.  But I remember exactly where I was when it happened.  Christmas, 2000 we spent our break in Pocahontas with our families.  And I had never been so glad to be headed "home" to Conway.  As I recall, I think we spent almost two weeks away and I was ready to get back to my job and our friends there.  And then he dropped the bombshell, "I think we should move back to Pocahontas."  Say what?  "We've always said we might move back someday.  And our families are there.  And we can raise our kids there. And build businesses there. And....(sorry, I think I had blacked out by this point and didn't hear any of his other fabulous reasons.)"

And, so, despite my protestations, we made the decision to move.  After all, I didn't really have a choice after he called a pediatric physical therapy clinic, asked them if they were hiring, arranged for me to have a phone interview with them, and THEN told me about it.  So, with a job, more grand plans for the future, and our families cheering us on, we headed back home to live those lives we started planning back in 1992.

(to be continued)
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