A Home For Haven

Resolute

2012-02-12T14:47:00.002-05:00

Happy Belated New Year!

Did you make any resolutions this year? I normally don’t because the same items seem to make the list each year which seems like irrefutable proof that I have NO desire or plan to actually implement them. So, I thought of things that I have missed, things that I used to enjoy but either because of having a child, work (over work) or lack of energy have kept me from doing. I’m one month in and my resolutions are going strong and have actually taken on a deeper meaning than I originally meant.

Bake. I cook a lot, but I rarely bake. I thought of the items that we buy that I might be able to bake instead. I like really filling, nutty bread, but the good stuff at the grocery costs $4/loaf. So I decided to bake a few loaves. And then a few more and now I realize I really enjoy it. I’ve tried some knead free recipes, but I have to admit—I like to knead! It’s good therapy for over tired fingers that have spent the day glued to a keyboard. Plus, I relieve my stress on that dough. Yesterday I took it a step further and bought a book devoted just to bread. What a lovely read!
Crochet. I started an afghan for Duc around the time he was born and was 3/4ths finished by the time I traveled…and I didn’t pick it up again until January. A friend of mother taught me to crochet when I was in college and really stressed out. It’s funny to look back at my stitches—the tighter they were the more stressed I was. I’ve made and given away probably 20 afghans in my life and I’ve only kept 2 of what I’ve made. It’s therapeutic, there was no reason to hold on to them. Now that I’ve finally finished Duc’s afghan I’m making one for myself. I need to something to brighten up my bedroom after I neutralized it last year. Now, when Duc is acting up and I need to keep my mouth shut I pick up my yarn and hook. I’ve noticed it has also cut back on my stress eating in the evening.
Clean out closets. I’m reading my list and realized I kind forgot about this one. I did manage to create order in the hall closet with the out of control wrapping paper and gift boxes. Still a lot more to go though!
Wear retainer. No kidding. I got braces as an adult due to TMJ (the teeth, fortunately, were pretty straight in the front, but my bite was off). I started strong. Four times a week just to get my mouth readjusted and now I’m doing twice a week which is what the orthodontist had originally recommended. I bet I’ve worn it less than a handful of times in the last two years. Woops. Considering I paid for my own treatments out of pocket I don’t really want to do that again.
Build. It’s too cold to drag my saw outside and build (I don’t have a garage or shed) so instead I have written out what I need/want. I’m going to build some open cabinets for the kitchen because I need the storage for all my baking. I’m also thinking of building a cabinet behind a door for additional storage since I don’t have a pantry. During the holidays I decided to redecorate my living room. I painted all the walls gray, bought a flat screen TV (first TV I’ve bought in 17 years—yay!) and had it mounted over the unused fireplace. I say unused because Duc + fire= disaster. At least I’m guessing it would be a disaster. I have no intention of letting him prove me right. I’m selling both couches in my living room to make room for my new midcentury modern couch (think Mad Men-esque). I’m going to build a new media cabinet and a combo filing cabinet and book shelf. If you haven’t realized it already it is a SMALL house with little storage capacity so you have to fake it out. Once that is done I’m going to build a dining room table and benches (both freestanding and built in like this:

contemporary kitchen design by little rock interior designer Tobi Fairley

And a table like this:

I figure the built in bench should give us some additional storage space for toys, games and craft supplies.

Can you see it now? I figure if I build it myself, even if I have to wait, it will save at least 3/4 of the cost of buying or having someone else do it for me. Plus, there is always the satisfaction of doing it myself.

7. Clean out my someday daughter’s room. It started out promising and has become the land spot for all things I haven’t had the time to get rid of or am unsure of what to do with. Duc’s old clothes that I was holding? Yep, in there. The futon that was in his bedroom before I built him a bed? Check. All her nursery furniture and some books and toys? Check, those are there too. And the sweeper. Go figure.

The final item never made it on my list, but has kind of grown out of #1. I like to cook. I like to create and imagine and be surprised when things come out correctly so I’ve started making most of our foods except for cereals, salsa and corn chips but hopefully that will change when I garden and learn to can this summer.

There are other things I am thinking of writing about, but for the sake of Duc’s privacy (as well as my own) I may be writing that on a password protected blog. I’m still debating that, but if interested in reading just let me know.

Morning

2012-01-09T08:40:00.002-05:00

I love a good sunrise. there is something magical and fresh about them. A reminder to let bygones be bygones and to start anew. Unfortunately with winter I only see 2 sunrises a week and only if the weekend mornings are clear and only if Duc sleeps in past 8 am (this is rare).

Today, a Monday, is a special gift. I have a rare day off, the sun is up and Duc is strangely still in bed. I can watch the light filter through my sheers and dance across my freshly painted walls changing the color as they move. I love the absolute quiet in the house where the only sound is off my keyboard as my fingers clack across the keys.

Yes, today is a special day. It is mine to spend as I wish, to shake off yesterday, and begin again.

Gold

2011-11-05T23:31:00.003-04:00

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Robert Frost

I love Saturdays and not for the obvious don’t-have-to-work reason because I am working. I love Saturdays because I get to see the beautiful gold light that streams through my living room the first hour of the morning. Gorgeous. I love it because Duc and I stay in our jammies and hang out. I love the rhythm. I like baking and relaxing and feeding my child with food that I have made.

(I love the way you can see the light actually streaming across)

Some families go to the pumpkin patch…

2011-10-25T07:00:00.004-04:00

Some families go to the pumpkin patch, our family goes to a wild cat rescue center.

Michael had taken me here several years ago for a birthday, but we haven’t been back since Duc was born. Since he is nearly 3.5 and his lovey is beanie tiger it seemed appropriate it for us to visit.

When we got there and paid our entrance fee the guy sized us up quietly before saying, “make sure you hold his hand at all times. The tigers will be very interested in him…”.

Ok. How does one respond to that???

Michael kept a good grip on Duc.

The first few weren’t too scary.

But the first guy was right…the tigers were interested in Duc.

The guide lead us down a narrow path through the woods into a low valley. We had lions to the left of us and tigers to the right and our path was only 3-5 feet wide between the two enclosures. As soon as we walked down there the tigers, who had been separate, formed a line and began pacing the fence where we were walking through. Most of them were growling quietly. The only reason I was able to get these pictures is because Michael was holding on to Duc.

Do you remember the scene in Jurassic Park when the visitors realized the fences weren’t working? Yeah, that’s how this felt. Unlike a zoo where there are metal bars, this one relies on a wire/chain link fence…similar to what you might have in your back yard. In the 20 years since it opened, only two animals have escaped and thankfully they weren’t tigers or lions!

Once we got into the valley some of the volunteer staff came through to clean the bones from the cages. Unfortunately, the animals thought they were getting fed so they started getting very busy. And then another 20 people joined our small little tour group of 5 in the small, low valley in the forest. Yeah, the animals noticed this too.

One heavily scented woman (perfume, cigarette smoke, etc—why would you wear that around feral animals???) got too close to the lion’s cage.

King (the lion) was on his feet and had his front paws against the fence in less than a second. I’ve never seen anything so big move so quickly.

There was a lot of this too:

At this point I told Michael to pick Duc up and walk back up the path slowly and quietly (less than 3 feet between these enclosures, remember? You could feel the heat from their breath). Shortly after that some of the rest of our tour group began to stampede and I got knocked over by a junior high student bigger than me.

Thankfully none of us became this:

Despite my slight freak out (Jurassic Park, remember?) the boys LOVED it. Duc wasn’t scared at all and we had a really great day.

I’m Back!

2011-10-23T13:38:00.003-04:00

Hello, friends, I’m back I didn’t intend to take a nearly 6 month break, as the days passed it got easier and easier. There were still a lot of days when I would think “I need to write about this. I need to process this some more”, but ultimately decided not to. Truth is, I shut down.

The last 6 months at work have been a challenge. My workplace has been a stressful place from the beginning because we truly worked for a crazy woman. I never knew when or where the attacks would come from and after four years of being victimized by that woman she was finally fired. With that came a new director and manager, both are good but there is still stress as we navigate our relationships and the new rules that come with new people. My project load increased substantially and I began working 10-14 hours every day. Some days are even worse—I recently worked all day (10 hours), had 6 hours off and came in worked 7 hours through the night. I’m exhausted beyond exhausted and poor Duc is beginning to act out. I’m sure you can imagine why. And through all this I stopped writing. I stopped writing the blog, I stopped writing in my personal journal. I just stopped. I was too physicially and emotionally bankrupt by the end of the day to do anything besides fall asleep on the couch in the evening.

I suspect this may not have been the best response. I miss writing. I don’t like shutting down and just waiting things out. Sometimes it is easier to try to get through something than process my feelings or the fallout from things.

So, I said all that to say this: I’m back. I’m not sure for how long, but I do want to try to blog at least once or twice a week. I’m thinking the content is going to change somewhat. While I love writing about my son, taking pictures of him and writing about our joys and struggles I am interested in a lot more than just adoption. I will still write about some of the things we are working through (birthmom interest, anyone?) because we live and struggle with things related to adoption everyday, but my son opened my eyes to lot more. I became very involved with photography because I didn’t want to forget these moments. I began to DIY and make things because I’ve always been curious about the process, but now I can’t afford those things unless I do it myself. I’ve never been an outdoor person, but for the second year in a row I have gardened. Why? Because I like knowing where my food is coming from, I like introducing my son to an activity we can do together and I like the self sustainability of it all.

I hope you will stop by for a visit soon.

Peace.

11:33 PM

2011-05-13T23:53:00.002-04:00

{11:33 pm—an untouched photo}

In motherhood I have struggled to find myself in it at times. Not that I lost myself, exactly, I am the same stubborn, life-loving, first-to-laugh, homebody that I ever was. In some ways these traits are even large—I laugh longer and deeper, I argue passionate and I look for a laugh where ever I can find it. I long to stay in my jammies all day one day a week and not leave the house. These things haven’t changed.

But I lost my time and I miss that the most at times. I’ve always felt fulfilled alone. I’m recharged in my solitude and quiet time. I love having a few hours to get lost in my own head and dream. I love to dream.

Now that Duc is older he doesn’t need to sleep as much and my time is being encroached upon. Someday I will wake up and he won’t be there and I will long to hear his voice calling my name in the night, telling me stories and singing me songs at 3:14 AM. I won’t hear his bounding feet echo through the house. I know I will miss it.

But for now I miss my time. I steal it where I can and like every mother I have learned to juggle a number of tasks at once. Now, I find my time in a mindless sink of soapy dishes, jamming to Kings of Leon on the iPod and thinking slightly dirty thoughts. Yes, this is my time.

Racism at home and in the wake of Japan's disaster

2011-03-26T01:06:00.005-04:00

As a white middle-class mom I won’t see racism the same way my son sees it. No one will ever make “chink eyes” at me (oh, I take that back, someone did) or say an offensive joke about white, single middle-class moms. No one will talk slower and louder to me or ask if I speak English. No one is going to ask to see my birth certificate or proof of citizenship. But I am a not so silent witness to what is happening. Our nation has a long history of ostracizing various ethnic and minority groups. In my parent’s lifetime it was the 1960’s civil rights moment that finally gave rights to African Americans. In my lifetime it was letting gays and lesbians out of the proverbial closet. Maybe in my son’s lifetime any person of any skin color will be able to walk down the street and not worry about the police stopping and asking for proof of citizenship.

In my state, in the very state of my birth and the state that signed my son’s birth certificate, a new bill is being presented to the Indiana Congress that would allow police to detain anyone they suspect is an illegal immigrant. What does an illegal immigrant look like?

Does this guy look like an American? He’s not, but his parents were. He served in WWII and has lived here for nearly 100 years. Now he is facing deportation and a loss of his Social Security benefits.

Is this the face of an American?

(yes, I realize eating junk food does not make you an American, but honestly, how cute is this picture from the Holidays?)

This immigration bill frightens me. Please check out this website for more information: http://indianacompact.com/ I don’t want to have to hold my son’s hand tighter each time I see a police car go by. I don’t want to lecture him about the dangers of drinking AND being outside while Asian. I don’t want to have to worry about all the rednecks that are out there that might call the police if they don’t like the way he looks.

The dual tragedies in Japan has brought out a new face of racism, but unlike previous disasters people of all walks of life, even famous people that should know better, have piped up to say this is punishment for Pearl Harbor and other war related atrocities. Really? I really thought we got them back when we bombed the hell out of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The fact that they have been strong allies and have not committed any further atrocities speaks to their commitment to peace.

Please check out this post over at Disgrasian and don’t forget to listen to the audio clips. It’s mind blowing what people feel comfortable saying in front of a microphone or in 140 word tweets.

But this little goody may just be my favorite:

And this awesome response:

Alternate Universe

2011-03-18T23:25:00.002-04:00

Before I became a mother every one would very knowingly say, “your life is going change” to which I internally responded with ‘well, duh”.

I expected a certain amount of transition—how could I not? I was going from SWF to table for one and a half. Some of the changes were sudden and some were gradual. The first thing I noticed was a fatigue that settled deep into my bones that was not relieved with any amount of sleep. I didn’t really recognize it for what it was until talking to another new adoptive parent who complained she was tired all the time despite the fact that her daughter slept beautifully all night long. It was responsibility. It was knowing that I was the ONLY parent for this child and that my life suddenly had a bigger meaning. My life no longer belonged to just me. While our parents teach us to fly a child ties us to this world. I had never felt so deeply rooted in this world, to this life. Before Duc there was always the chance of escape. Always the wanderer, anytime life felt boring, overwhelming, whatever, I knew I could run. I could pack up my few belongings and hit the road. To be honest, it was that probability that got me through many difficult days at work. I feel tied, but not necessarily tied down. Now, when I picture my escape I see Duc and I sitting on a beach watching the sun set on the Pacific (but to be honest I rarely ever think of escape anymore).

Certain things that I had once enjoyed no longer interested me. Hot new guy on TV or on the street—nothing. Barely even a pitter patter. There was a time I deeply longed to be married, but I now find myself at peace and sometimes even grateful for being single. Duc keeps me so busy that the only time I wish I had a husband is when I am sick or exhausted or days when he just wears me out through his sheer physicality.

I haven’t worn a dress or high heels since I became a mother. I am more interested in comfortable shoes that allow me to dart after him and breathable cotton that won’t make me hot when he falls asleep on me or when I have to carry his 30+ lbs. through a mall because he won’t walk. Dry clean only clothes are a waste of time. It has only been the last few months that I have made it to work without snot or cereal smeared across one or both or my breasts.

I can’t stand watching shows or movies that show acts of violence against women or children (sorry, men). I nearly vomited the last time I tried watching “Criminal Intent”. it’s too close to home. I can remember trying to watch the Liam Neeson film “Taken” shortly after Duc came home. I was so anxious I paced the floors and had to keep pausing the movie so my heart would stop racing (yeah, I could have turned it off, but that goes against my nature to finish everything I start).

And where these desires waned, new ones took root.

Before Duc I didn’t spend much time at home. Now I am home every night by 7 pm (6 pm is the witching hour where tantrums are more likely to occur). I’ve had a chance to evaluate my surroundings and realized it no longer matched our lifestyle. I’m obsessed with HGTV and all things relating to home decorating or renovating. I have little money, time or energy to take on new projects, but I have.

I’ve started building.

This…

Became this…

(just to clarify, that is only dust and cat hair on the edge of the bed from being moved from the living room to his bedroom—I wiped it off right after I noticed it on the picture!).

After two years of sleeping in a pack ‘n play my baby now sleeps on a bed with a mattress—and no rails! He has had his bed for exactly one month today and everyday he shouts “I like my new BED!”. We store toys, books, out of season clothes in the cubbies below the mattress. For a small house it has really worked out well.

When I shared the photos with my boss the only thing she said is “why would you want to do that (build the bed)?”.

Honestly, I don’t have a great answer other than wanting to pass on something tangible to my son. Something that that his son or daughter will some day sleep in. For two months he has bragged to people that “mommy built my bed!” and I hope he will always feel that way. My dad built me a bookshelf when I wasn’t much older than Duc and even though it is a rather odd looking bookshelf (sorry Dad!) I won’t part with it. It is now in Duc’s room.

As a single parent I think more about sustainability than I did when it was just me. I want to know how to build my own furniture (please see http://ana-white.com/ for easy to follow plans—they are amazing). I am more interested in growing our own food and even if I am not as concerned about what I am consuming, I want the food he eats to make his body healthy and strong. Last weekend Duc assisted with building another raised bed for a cold garden (spring veg). He is going to have his own raised bed and has already chosen pumpkins and watermelons as his crop for the summer.

As we are entering Spring I will probably try to tackle new projects around the house and I will also try to document the process to share with all of you (that being the 7 people that still read this blog).

If you are curious about anything please feel free to ask.

Blessed

2011-02-24T23:58:00.002-05:00

I know I often talk about the struggles that we face. Let’s face it, being a single parent is hard work. Being a single parent to an active boy is even harder. While he is used to my work schedule if I pick him up even 30 minutes later from daycare it will be a rough evening and even a rough night on some occasions. I admit, I struggle with this sometimes. I really like my “me” time. I crave it actually and I need several hours each night or I struggle to sleep. I like the quietness of the house and I like to be able to sit on the couch and pet my cat (which I never see during Duc hours).

But sometimes there are blessings where you don’t see them. I have a child that wants to be with me all the time. I have a son that thinks I’m awesome and he tells strangers that “my mama is funny!”. I have a son that still wants to cuddle despite the distractions of toys and Thomas the Train on the brain. I have a child that enjoys not only picking out his own clothes each morning, but picking mine out as well (yes, the boy has good taste, but he seems particularly driven to my boobylicious shirts. In his own words, “I like boobies”).

Today I had a shit-tastic day at work…after several already this week. I’m physically and emotionally spent. When we got home tonight, we took our shoes and coats off and I fell into the closest seat. Duc climbed up in my lap and began looking at our videos on my iPod. And for 30 blissful minutes I slept and held my baby while listening to the sounds of his laughter on the video. Even after dinner he didn’t insist on rough housing or throwing a ball through the house or beg me to build his train set once again. He laid down next to me and we watched a little TV together. I marveled at the sweetest of this child next to me and understood why people refer to him as an “old soul”. I love that he has a naughty little grin and he will do something over and over again if it made me laugh just one time. And even if he won’t sleep in the twin bed I built him, he lays in it every night while we hold hands in the dark and talk.

I love that he loves Vietnam and that every time he sees a palm tree he excitedly yells “VIETNAM!”. While I don’t love that he goes though the trash cans, I love that I find surprises. Sometimes in my purse (which explains why it weighs 15 lbs.) or coat pocket or other places. Today I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out this:

Yes, that is a bottle top from Seagrams wine cooler I drank last night. He found it this morning and begged to be able to take it to daycare. When I refused he must have snuck it into my pocket because it was a treasure worth keeping.

I love that he has become such a little man. He holds doors open for people, is so sweet and delicate with little girls and asks me when he will finally have a sister.

Yes, yes, yes I love this boy.

Hello, my name is…

2011-02-15T23:05:00.003-05:00

Despite my apparent inability to blog, I think about it often. I find writing is cathartic for my soul even if no one reads and no one responds (although it is always good to have feedback!).

From my previous posts you know life has been challenging lately. I feel a bit bad for not updating you on Duc’s nee-nee/sleep situation, but I am happy to say it has improved. I think I needed to get far enough distance between living it and writing about it. Despite my assertions that I am not superstitious, I still find myself crossing my fingers and trying not to jinx myself.

The night following my last post I talked to Mom. Every woman wants to believe she will be a better mother than her’s was. You think you will find the patience that your mother lacked. You promise yourself you will never say “because I said so” and especially as adoptive parents you think you will never get tired of hearing your child chant “MOM!” at high volume. You tell yourself that you know everything about your child—more than any other living soul on this planet (a fact that saddens me and empowers me to make better decisions). As an adoptive parent you educate yourself on attachment issues and can spot those times when your child struggles.

I’ll be honest, hearing Duc scream and cry for hours on end simultaneously tears my heart out and makes me want to scream at him in frustration. I finally shared this with my mother. I didn’t want to admit that I was failing. Failing him and failing my sanity. I didn’t want to admit I was over my head, at the end of my rope and feeling up a creek sans paddle. She gently reminded me that I always have Duc’s abandonment issues in mind and that whether or not it was intentional, Duc was playing me. She couldn’t be right, could she? I excused him and explained “you don’t understand. you don’t hear his panicked cries or see she tear soaked face. His anxiety is real”

But my mother has been a mother for 30 some years. She has counseled hundreds of children in the last 15 years of her career and most recently began working with children and families in the foster care system (among other things). I couldn’t deny the fact that she knows children and their psychology.

That night I tucked Duc into my bed with my mom’s instructions rolling through my head. I assured Duc that I wasn’t going anywhere. I told him I would hold his hand for a few minutes and then I would return to the living room to work on laundry. I told him that I would not be returning to the room no matter how much he screamed and that I would only come back when I went to bed. His response made me cry later:

D: Mommy, go to work?

M: I’m not going to work. I’m going to work on laundry just down the hall.

D: You not going bye-bye?

M: No, honey, I’m not going bye-bye. Did you think I was going to work and leaving you alone?

D: Yeah, mommy. I thought you leave me.

Wow, I had no idea. Once I assured him that I was most definitely NOT leaving he quieted down and slept fine.

We still struggle from time to time with sleep now that he doesn’t have his nee-nee to pacify him. He has had to learn to rely more on me for comfort and to learn how to self soothe. And at times I realize he is trying to manipulate me—maybe not intentionally, and maybe not related to adoption. Every person was born with the ability to manipulate. It is what carries on our species and what drives our self preservation—whether it is our corporeal being or our mental being. We are given the tools from birth that allow us to get our needs met.

I’m just glad to have my happy boy back (and to be able to sleep in my bed alone).

Blue Nee-Nee II

2011-01-15T13:41:00.006-05:00

B so nicely inquired this week about how things have been since the blue nee-nee went bye-bye. In short, it sucks. The actual weaning process was surprisingly easily and fast. Nee-nee disappeared on Christmas Day after Duc hadn’t used it all day (no nap=no nee-nee). He fell asleep in the car shortly after leaving my parent’s house and he didn’t miss it. Or so I thought. At 1:30 AM he woke up screaming and crying. He was inconsolable and nothing I did helped. Finally around 6 am he dozed for a while before getting up around 7:30. For the next few days he inquired about blue nee-nee and asked that I search for it. Ever the dutiful mother I promised to do my best.

What I didn’t realize at the time was the extent that he relied on his pacifier. That was his comfort when even I could not help. Friends used to marvel at the ease in which I was able to get him to bed. Essentially I held him and rocked him for a few minutes with the pacifier, put him down and didn’t hear a peep out of him. Now it feels like January 2009 when we first arrived home from Vietnam. Weekend naps are almost non-existent. It is nothing for him to scream and whine and cry during his two hour nap period. Duc is the kind of child that REALLY needs a nap—sometimes two. Without naps he becomes destructive and more than a little mean and at his size he is force to be reckoned with.

It’s been three weeks today since I took nee-nee away and still we struggle. In the last two nights I have slept about three hours per night because Duc is sleeping in my bed. He sleeps in my bed even when I am not in bed with him. We have never been a co-sleeping family so this is a struggle for me.

I will be the first to admit that I don’t like change. I think because I am at an age in my life that so little changes it always astounds me that he is changing each and every day. How is that possible? I am struggling to learn that my parenting has to change to match his physical and emotional growth. I think I deluded myself into thinking that because he has been so advanced in his physical development and what he can do that his emotional growth would be slower. I have found that isn’t the case. On Christmas Eve we were driving to my parent’s house and he started wailing in the back seat. I asked him what was wrong and he replied, “I’m mad at you, Mommy”.

“Why are you mad at me, Duc?”

“Because.”

“Honey, ‘because’ is not a good enough reason. If you are mad at me you need to tell me why.”

“Because you won’t pick up my toy and give it to me.”

He tells me when he is happy, when is mad and when he is sad. Sometimes he isn’t able to verbalize why he feels these emotions, only that he feels them.

And so my parenting is adjusting. He needs me more now that he can’t rely on nee-nee. More time. More hugs and kisses. More time sitting next to him while he plays with his choo choos. More me. But I’ll be honest with you, I’m exhausted.

Blue Nee-Nee

2010-12-26T13:14:00.003-05:00

This is Duc’s nee-nee, or as he calls it, “The Blue Nee-Nee”. I purchased a package of mutlcolored nee-nees at the beginning of the year and swore to myself that I wouldn’t buy another. Not for this child at least.

As this year marched forward I began to feel pressure from other mommies, family, the internet, parenting magazines to wean him from the nee-nee. At times he shows readiness. We stopped using it during the day. Daycare doesn’t give it to him during naptime so he is used to napping without it (although I always gave it to him at home since I just realized recently that the nee-nee in his cubby at daycare is dust covered {yes, I am that kind of observant parent}). He began forgetting it for car trips where I often held it ‘just in case’. Yesterday he was so excited about all the great gifts he got he forgot to eat, forgot to nap and even forgot about nee-nee. He fell asleep in the first mile after I left my parent’s house and nee-nee fell from his grasp. When I carried him into bed from the car last night he quietly cried out for nee-nee, but quickly rolled over and forgot about it.

This was my chance. I hid it. I even placed his nee-nee someplace hard for me to remember and difficult for me reach.

As I crawling into bed last night I realized one thing.

I’m not ready.

I’m not ready for Duc to be a big boy. I’m not ready to take away his off switch—the one thing that quiets him down when we are in the grocery store and he starts wailing half way through our shopping. I’m not ready to take away the one thing that puts him into sleepyland within minutes. When I see his nee-nee I think of our first days together. I offered him his first nee-nee on the short trip from the orphanage to the location of his G&R. It was love at first sight.

Within the next few weeks Duc will be sleeping in a big boy bed. His very own twin size bed. Potty training is surely not far behind. I’m just not ready for him to be a big boy. But he is. I’ve watched him grow—first in photos and then every day with my own eyes. He is no longer my baby. He is a big boy that doesn’t need to rely on a nee-nee.

So long, nee-nee, and thanks for the memories. We will both miss you.

Christmas 2010

2010-12-25T22:00:00.002-05:00

Four years ago I sat across from my mother at a restaurant and as she caught a glimpse of me looking at the menu with my bangs pinned away with a barrette she said, “Wow, you look so much like my mother right now.”

I’m not sure I can adequately express how that comment made me feel. In one sense I was happy to know that I resembled my beloved grandmother and that something of her lives on, but the prevailing thought I had is “I will never look at my children and be able to say that.”. It was such a sad, bittersweet moment for me and I realized at that time I had to grieve that loss. I told myself that my child(ren) would have other other traits. Perhaps s/he would be musical like my mother and sister. Maybe s/he would would be able to draw like my mother or command a room’s attention like my father. I let go of ever thinking my children would look like my family.

Today my mom was flipping through the photo calendar that I made for my dad. She came to the photo below (taken nearly a year ago) and said, “Wow, he looks so much like my mother in this photo.” And there is was—the memory of that meal my mother and I shared four years ago. And she was right—he certainly looked like her. The way he is holding his mouth, the impish little smile—my much loved grandma.

Long before Duc entered my life I let go of hoping my children would resemble me. In the two years since he entered my life people have commented how much he looked like me (and most times I think it is crap that non-APs tell APs to help legitimize adoption in their eyes). But along the way there have been little things that made me sit back and laugh at God’s sense of humor. But for this day I was just happy to know that something of my grandma lived on.

December 16, 2008

2010-12-16T22:32:00.002-05:00

This time of year is always special for me since it is the time I met and adopted Duc. I know it was difficult for my mother to be away from family for the Holidays, but I have to admit, I wouldn’t have it any other way. For me, I finally had a family and it didn’t matter to me where I was as long as we were together.

My maternity leave started on Monday, December 15th and like this December 15th a winter storm moved in. Michael picked me up and drove me to my sister’s house since she lived closest to the airport. The roads were slick and I wasn’t sure what I was more nervous about—the drive, the massive change that was occurring in my life, or worrying that the weather would keep us from leaving for Vietnam.

I slept on my sister’s couch that night. Well, I attempted to sleep. I was checking my watch every 30 minutes waiting to get up and finally gave up around 3:30 am. The photo above was taken while we waited to board our flight. I cried as I hugged my sister which mirrored our return as well. I had no sleep, but I was downright giddy.

Two years ago at this time I was somewhere over the ocean en route to S. Korea. I still remember the excitement as we landed in Seoul knowing we were that much closer. I remember the most minute detail. I remember how well I slept—nearly the entire trip between home and Vietnam. For the first time in two years I slept soundly. The end of the wait was almost over.

Even now it seems unfathomable that two years have passed. I remember so acutely the stress of waiting. The anguish as I learned we were delayed. How worried I was for Duc. And here I am. A mom for two years. Where did the time go?

One of these is not like the others

2010-12-13T22:19:00.002-05:00

Duc helped Oma redecorate the Nativity. I didn’t bother correcting it because I kind of like it. What do you think?

Resilient

2010-11-25T00:47:00.002-05:00

Definition of RESILIENT

: characterized or marked by resilience: as a : capable of withstanding shock without permanent deformation or rupture b : tending to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change

Last week a licensed, trained and paid-to-know-better person told me “children are resilient. Your son will adjust to any decisions you make for your life”.

To be honest, that statement angered and hurt me. I quickly told her, “you don’t understand. You don’t know what he has experienced. You didn’t see him in May when our time was limited to 15 minutes a day. You didn’t see how he pushed me away at bedtime and continued to push me away until just two weeks ago. You didn’t hear him as he cried and howled in anger and pain for hours after going to bed. It has been six months since I heard my son say ‘I love you, Mommy’.” At this point I cried and I told her, “every day for six months when I have told my son I loved him he shook his head vehemently and said ‘no, Mommy, I don’t want it’”.

Over the weekend I watched my son chase, and catch, a ginormous chicken. I watched with a mix of amazement and fear as he turned to me and yelled “Mommy, I caught it!”. After he safely put it down and walked back towards me I couldn’t help but think of how tough he is.

I started thinking about what it means to be tough or resilient. If Duc had gotten scratched and pecked would I still have thought he was tough for catching that chicken? No. Chances are I would have forgotten the fact that he caught the chicken, I would only remember the visit to the Emergency Room. I would have remembered his cries of fear and pain and not the momentary awe of doing the unthinkable.

And what of resiliency? Isn’t being resilient just another way of saying survivor? And isn’t that just another way of saying something didn’t kill you? I have to be honest, I want more for my son. I want him to be able to say he did more than live through something.

Chance

2010-10-31T17:05:00.003-04:00

I don’t believe in the fortunes found in Chinese cookies, but you will still find them all over my house. Inspiration, at times, in a slip of paper. This one is wedged in the medicine cabinet in my master bathroom. I see it every morning when I wash my face and brush my teeth and it is the last thing I see before I go to bed. Sometimes in my rush I gloss over it. And over time it has a way of slipping into the background the way wallpaper does. But I notice when it is missing.

This reminds me to live in this moment. That every moment I have a choice. Turn left or right. Maybe even go back. Stillness is as much a choice as motion.

it is a reminder that my life is not yet set. I am still living and my circumstances don’t cage the desires of my heart and the choices it makes.

It is a reminder that amazing and beautiful things come from choices—and chances—sometimes I see exactly what I want and other times I see exactly what I need to see.

It is a reminder that every once in a while I need to have faith, take a step, however small, and take a chance.

My Favorite Boys

2010-10-27T23:54:00.001-04:00

My two favorite boys. I love to see the way they interact with each other. The way they look at each other. The devilish grins they exchange. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked over and caught my dad teaching D something he shouldn’t know. I love the expression on my dad’s face when I catch him. I’m glad that I have had the opportunity to see my dad like this.

One of my favorite photos of my dad and grandfather was taken when my dad was about 10 years-old. The boys are looking at each other from the corner of their eyes. I found out later that Grandpa was actually tickling or scratching at the back of the head hence the sideways expression. I’ve caught Duc doing the same sideways look a number of times over the last month. And one of these days I will capture that image as my grandma caught it with her “boys”.

‘I will always come back for you’

2010-10-23T01:43:00.001-04:00

Over the last two years I have found myself re-writing my son’s birth and relinquishment story. There was a part of me, I am ashamed to admit, that hoped that I was one of the families that had doctored papers. I wanted to believe that my son’s mother walked into the orphanage, kissed his forehead and signed the appropriate paperwork relinquishing her parental duties. I wanted to believe that she was strong enough and loved him enough to make sure that he was never alone—that he went from her arms to the arms of the orphanage staff. I wanted to believe that he felt safe and never felt alone. That he never felt abandoned.

The more time that passes the more I realize that his paperwork was most likely very accurate. The truth is, at some point he felt alone and he felt abandoned. He felt scared and he wailed a panicked cry. Perhaps it was that cry that drew the orphanage staff to his location. I can only hope that his mother waited outside the gates in the dark until someone saw him and carried him inside. If so, I can only imagine how she handled the anguished cry of her newborn. Perhaps it wasn’t her that brought him to the orphanage. Maybe it was a relative or a friend. Either way, my son carries the scars from that time.

Even after seeing how he gets upset when I leave him, I still can’t find it myself to feel anger towards his mother. She made the best decision she could for her and her family at the time. It frustrates me that I will likely never learn her identity because of the choices she made, but I also realize that if she had done things differently I would have never known him.

This week a gentleman shared that he and his wife were planning on adopting once her body was no longer able to handle repeated pregnancies and c-sections. They were interested in international adoption. I told him what I knew. That adopted children are NOT the same as bio children and they react to the same situations differently. People view my son as a poster child for adoption since he is so well adjusted, friendly, loving, and happy. But no child gets through their childhood unscathed—adopted or not. And for my son the panicked cry every time I leave him, even if only for a few minutes, is not a ‘stage’ as most parents try to reassure me. This is him. Dealing with feeling abandoned. It is me feeling frustrated and scared that I can’t make it better.

Family

2010-09-07T22:46:00.004-04:00

I am not naive and I doubt anyone would say I am obtund.

At the beginning of each day my son is my son. He is not my flesh nor my blood, but my feelings for him are not directed by blood or biology. He is my son. I live every day aware, painfully aware at times, that he was born of another woman’s body. I wish I could have given birth to him, taken credit for his beauty, his brains and his wit. I wish I could have made it easier, but then we wouldn’t be the people we have become. It seems strange to me at times when I remember that I never watched him slip out of my body, never saw my body grow and change. My heart has changed though. My love and my intensity has changed.

My son doesn’t yet understand adoption. I talk about Vietnam and the beautiful woman who carried him below her heart for nine months.

For now my son is blissfully ignorant that “mommy” in our family has more than one meaning. For now he doesn’t have to question what “mommy” means to him. At the end of today and the beginning of tomorrow we are simply mommy and babe. Some days I wish people saw the same thing I see—a family. Not an adoptive family. Not a single mom. Not an adopted child. A family. No more questions. No more nosy looks. Just us. A mother and her son. Family.

‘night night

2010-09-05T10:31:00.002-04:00

A few weeks ago Duc had the stomach flu. The first night he vomited in his sleep and never cried out. It freaked me out so bad that the next night I insisted that I needed to see him all night. Since I don’t go to bed at 8 pm I put him on the couch so I could watch him. I really enjoyed having him so close. I enjoyed watching him sleep and I discovered he talks in his sleep. The most frequent word? Mommy. The rest were nee-nee (the name he gave his pacifier), Saige and Si (his cousins).

God, how I love this boy.

Enigma

2010-09-03T23:51:00.003-04:00

Two years ago today I saw my son’s face for the first time. I remember everything about that day. I remember the dragonfly socks—part of a matching pair for us—that I wore in memory of my grandma. I remember working in the “command center” while supporting a new application implementation at work. I remember the call. And the tears. I remember calling my mother and the sound of the gravel gritting under her feet as she sprinted for the car. I remember feeling absolutely enamored and completely confused.

My son is, in some ways, as much as an enigma today as he was the first time I saw him. I was expecting a scrawny, sickly, pale, unhappy child. What I saw was a chubby baby with the most beautiful golden brown skin that I had ever laid my eyes on. In one of his first photos I saw a happy giggling baby, but in subsequent photos I saw something else. A child that looked somewhat desperate, his eyes searching for something he couldn’t verbalize. At the time I looked past all that not seeing what I didn’t yet understand. Three and a half months later I walked into his orphanage, picked him up and both of our lives changed. Instead of crying he held my face with both of his hands, smiled and held my stare as I cried. As the days turned to months I realized that he was looking for a family. The before and after photos on the mantle paint a different picture of his life in an orphanage.

I know my son better than anyone else alive. I know his favorite color (yellow), I know that nothing in life makes him as happy as Opa & Oma, race cars, helicopters and ambulances. I know the expression he makes when he feels unsure about someone that approaches us. I know how ornery he is and what words will make him laugh until he throws his head back and giggles a high pitch little giggle that only little children can do.

Yet I find myself looking at him and aching for all the things I don’t know. For the questions I have and the questions that he will someday have. We often get comments on how similar we are—same evil giggle, same infectious belly laugh. We are both ornery. We have the same horrific cowlicks and the same strange hereditary ear birth defect (until the international doctor told me it was a birth defect I just always thought of it as a family trait—and don’t bother comparing our ears in this picture because you can’t see it). People can say all those things and more, but I know those things belong to the faces of two people I have never met.

My birthday was this week. My friends and family know the worst thing they can tell me is “I know what you are getting for your birthday!”. It makes me crazy, the unknowing. Even if it is a good thing it still makes me crazy. And every once in a while I feel that same crazy when I look at my son. I hate the not knowing.

And because I can’t leave you without something fun, check out this video. I almost blew lemonade out my nose when it came on the TV. This is so Duc.

Hello Beautiful

2010-07-29T22:48:00.001-04:00

I’ve been wanting to get Duc outside for some photographs, but the weather has been icky. Either it is 95* with 80% humidity or it is raining. We finally an 85* day with NO rain so I grabbed it when I saw it. Unfortunately it was late in the day and Duc was not in the mood. He wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t follow any directions. We were out there for 10 minutes and only got a few photographs I can use, but it was so good to get out.

It was so bright out and it was 7:30 pm. Hard to believe in a few months it will be dark at this time of day.

And from my front door last night…

Sunset

2010-07-28T00:15:00.000-04:00

This is me keeping my promise

2010-07-26T16:55:00.000-04:00

Potty time

2010-07-25T11:43:00.002-04:00

Duc is obsessed with the toilet lately. His new daycare class potties several times a day and as the youngest in the class (2 to 3 years-old) he sees some that are potty trained.

Several times a day (and every time I race to the toilet after putting it off too long) he races to the big boy potty to use the bathroom. He runs down the hall taking his shorts off and peeling off his diaper as he goes. He has a toddler toilet, but refuses to use it. He insists on being a big boy and using my toilet even though I do not have a toddler seat.

After breakfast he asked to potty and by the time he reached the bathroom he was naked. He was so excited that he pottied that he stood up to look in the toilet and promptly pooped right on the rug. Yeah, he was 10 seconds too fast.

(He’s not actually asleep on the toilet. I caught him in mid-song, and yes, there is a little upper body dance routine)

I should have known

2010-07-24T23:21:00.002-04:00

How can a place that never knew me leave such a longing in my soul? How can a city or a country leave such an indelible impression on me. My life. My home. My heart.

I supposed I should have guessed that it was coming. It has been 18 months since Vietnam. Eighteen months since the suffocating heat of Saigon, the spices in the market, the smell of pho broth first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. In many ways it feels like my life began right there in central Vietnam on a beach next to the sea. There are so many memories of that time. The smells, the people. the texture of the sand and surf against my feet. The smell of that horrible fruit that was forbidden in so many of the hotels. I laughed when I saw the signs until I smelled it for myself.

Last week my mom was teasing me. She told me that someday Duc is going to meet a nice girl and bring her home to meet mama. He’ll brag about my pho (it is seriously as good as what I had in Vietnam) and spring rolls. He’ll tell her about my dipping sauce or any number of recipes I may master between now and then. I wonder how much of a surprise she will have when she sees that Duc’s mama is a white woman that can cook like her mama?

Yeah, I miss Vietnam. I miss my son’s first home.

2010-07-20T22:54:00.002-04:00

Sometimes adoption weighs heavily on my mind. It’s not something I typically talk to or share with friends and even family. I think my mother and the readers of this blog probably understand it best having either lived it or watched adoption unfold in our lives.

When I decided to adopt a few years I made a conscious decision to adopt a boy. I can’t say why exactly—it just felt right. We don’t have any boys in our family, my dad and the neutered dog were the sole males in our home growing up so I knew there were going to be struggles that I likely would not experience with a daughter. Perhaps it was because there were no boys in the family that I wished to add to ours, but I will admit, as the last person in my family bearing my family name, I really wanted to pass it on. It’s an unusual name and I think of the Irish that came before me and how after thousands of years walking the planet my line lead me here.

At some point I will die and it will fall to my son to tell our family stories. At some point it will be the job of my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren to carry the name (I hope) and to share the stories of our family. At some point years from now someone will do a genealogy study and wonder why a family with an Irish name has Asian heritage. I can’t help but laugh when I think of my father’s father. I wonder what he would think about the sole heir of his family name and how our family is permanently changed a result of this one action.

It makes me smile. I think he would throw his head back and laugh.

hello stranger

2010-07-14T00:11:00.002-04:00

This is straight out of camera because I am trying to back up all my photographs to external drives, discs and an online back-up server also. Nervous much? Yeah. So I am giving Photoshop a rest to night.

I’ve written about this previously, but since Duc entered my life I have really let myself go. Actually I can’t blame it on him—once I started the process to adopt him I began to let myself go. Like every good PAP I was too busy obsessively checking email and internet to go to the gym regularly. And eating? Yeah, I stress ate from Spring until the day I traveled. And I continued to do that even after we returned home. I was complaining to a friend the other day telling her I didn’t feel girly anymore. So, subtle steps. I wore lipstick to work every day for a week. Even bright red. I painted my toenails for the first time since late 2007 (and, as you can see, I can’t color within the lines). I even grew my fingernails out since I am no longer playing the violin. I forgot how hard it was to take my contacts out with long nails or wash dishes. And how the heck does one text with long nails?

The other night when I rolled over I aggravated a groin injury I sustained when Duc suddenly jumped on my knee while I was sitting cross legged. I rolled around in pain and I realized how stupid it all was. It is time for me to improve my health again. Duc and I are finally at a good place again and it is time for mama to venture away and take care of herself. Say a prayer that he feels the same way!

Extra spicy, hold the drama

2010-07-09T23:34:00.003-04:00

I’m not a fan of drama. I like watching dramas on the big screen, but I don’t want drama in my life. This week we have had a little of both—Duc drama and mama drama.

As a parent you get mad at your kids. Goodness knows I’ve been mad at Duc a number of times (hello broken nose, hitting said broken nose, giving me a black eye, scratching my car with rocks, you get the picture). I always feel bad when I get that mad. I’ve never hit Duc for something he has done, but we have both gone in our respective time out corners until we both cooled off. I don’t know if it is because I love him so much or because there is some sort of AP voice in the back of my head telling me “you waited this long to be parent; you can’t possibly be angry at your precious little angel”. Anyone else hear that crazy voice? Anger is normal. It’s even healthy and yet I feel bad that I get so upset. Most times I am also bruised or bleeding which probably aggravates the situation.

On Wednesday I got really mad at Duc. I got so mad I cursed in front of my child. Yep, I’m admitting it. I was pissed and I told him so. We left the house at 7:10 AM. I got the car loaded and I got Duc fastened in the car seat with his blankey, his nee-nee (pacifier) and some dry cereal. I slammed his car door shut as I do several times a day. It bounced back. Yep, the door bounced back. The stinker had messed with the latching mechanism yet again only this time it was jammed. I screwed around with that door for 20 minutes before I accepted I was screwed. I called and left a VM for my boss letting her know what had happened. It wasn’t just what he had done, I was feeling stressed over recent changes at work. I used to have a flexible schedule, but now I have to be clocked in no later than 8 am. Failure to do so earns the employee a demerit of some sort. Since I had to leave my shift early one day last week (had a really bad reaction to a new medication) I knew I had yet another mark against me. Two in less than a week—a few more and I get a verbal reprimand. And now I can’t get my son’s car door to close.

I knew I was screwed. After 20-30 minutes I started calling my dad repeatedly until my mom answered. God love her, she was trying to help but I was still pissed. I even flagged down a random stranger walking through the neighborhood with a leash in one hand and a bag of dog poop in the other. Even with using a flathead screwdriver neither of us good get it. I was incredibly stressed. Did I mention it was also really hot and steamy and I HATE hot and steamy?

None of us could fix the door and I ultimately had to take it to the repair shop. It was fixed (free of charge, hallelujah!) and the shop guys taught me how to fix it in the event it occurred again.

Today I added my own drama. thankfully Duc seems to like mama drama…and nothing was damaged in the process! Almost two weeks ago I decided to make a trip to THE camera store in Indiana. It was a last minute decision and I called Michael from the road. Canon was running a nice sale and Amazon was promising buyers 12 months to pay off any camera/lens purchases. I wasn’t planning on buying another lens this year, especially since I had just ordered the external flash, but a girl has to look, right?

We picked up Michael and discovered the store was in the process of moving when we arrived. Literally, there was nothing on the walls and most items were in boxes. I wasn’t too encouraged, but the salesman managed to locate the lens we were both lusting over. It was sweet. It was heavy, but the photographs created were S-W-E-E-T. Again, no intention of buying, but I turned the corner to find Michael to tell him I was ready to leave when I found the salesman handing him a bag. Say what? He bought the lens! He sweated the price, I drooled and begged for a chance to touch it.

Yeah, unfortunately neither of us can handle the other one having better gear so I waited for the price to drop a bit on Amazon and ordered the lens (just an FYI—the prices fluctuate a lot on many of their products. Prices tend to be lower on Tuesday and higher late in the week). I expected it to arrive in typical Amazon fashion….3-5 days later. WRONG! It took several days before it shipped and UPS took it’s sweet time delivering. They kept attempting to deliver while I was at work. I got home at 5:30 tonight. Got Duc started on some food, I changed into my jammies and I explored the UPS website where I learned I could request to pick it up by 6 pm. On the other side of town. During rush hour with road construction. I like a challenge and I don’t mind a little drama like this. We managed to get there 2 minutes before it closed and thank goodness we did!

All the photographs you see in this post were with my sweet new lens and a flash. Yep, I am addicted!

If any of you feel the need to feed your addiction Canon is running a sale on many of their items—I got my flash and the new lens with a nice discount. The sale continues through tomorrow and then you are out of luck. Amazon is also running the 12 month payment deal on many camera brands. If you have been looking for some new gear now might be a good time to check it out.

Don’t you just want to kiss those cheeks? This picture kills me. It was such an odd, but sweet, expression. I could (and sometimes do) stare at this face all day. I just can’t help myself.

Randomness in Photos

2010-07-05T23:19:00.002-04:00

I have a lot to say, but no energy to say it. I’m trying to clean house and get rid of stuff, an endless story, ya know?

I love that some of the things I am teaching my son are actually sinking through. Like taking a few minutes everyday to sit and enjoy living in the moment. For us that usually means sitting on the stoop in front of the house for a few minutes each night no matter how hot (makes us appreciate the a/c more, eh?). Enjoying a glass of lemonade in a frosted glass. Watching the bunnies and listening to the birds and crickets.

And now for a random smattering of photos:

I recently purchased an external flash for my camera (after this picture was taken, obviously). I’ve been curious about external lighting and portrait lighting for a while. I just received it a few days ago so I haven’t had a chance to really play with it much, but I am hoping to get rid of facial shadows like you see in this picture. I still love the picture though:) It’s just so Duc. He LOVES his Oma and wallors all over her.

I love this photo. He’s so serious here (which isn’t like him), but I love the expression, the sun, the water dripping down his face. I can almost smell the sun on his skin in this photo. Ahhhhh…..summer.

A toddler bouquet. Not so bad from a 2 and almost 5 year-old.

And this is the impact my dad has on my son. This is the “Opa face” because this is how they BOTH look when they are around each other. The bad things they teach each other…

And with an external flash….

I just love how crisp the color is when using the external flash. You will definitely be seeing a few more “flash” photos in the coming posts. A girl has to practice, right?

Life is Good

2010-06-20T23:44:00.002-04:00

It’s been a fun week. I had a little time off and I treated it like a summer vacation.

Here are the highlights:

My very first roller derby! Seriously, roller derby is alive and well and I finally saw a match (game???) and it totally rocked! Usually there are two matches, but this night there was only one so the additional team members were in the audience. One of them sat next to me and explained everything and now I can’t wait to see the next one!

There was a picnic at one of the local lakes with Michael:

The stinker ate a whole container of strawberries by himself. Michael taught him all about cutting up sausages. I’m not sure that was actually a good idea.

My garden:

Anyone know what to do with eaten up green beans? I notice the leaves have a number of holes in them. I didn’t notice it on any of my other plants.

I think many of you reading are probably friends with me on FB so you have heard that Duc has had all his wheeled toys taken away (and books, tractors, trains, blocks or anything he throws at me or hits me with). But he is still a boy at heart and all he wants are his cars and choo choo trains. This is how desperate he has become—he’s treating the buns as trains . I do have a heart though. I gave him back his favorite tractor today (a very small one). Within two minutes I took it back after he threw it at me. The reason I am so strict with this? On Monday he nailed me and gave me yet another black eye. Even though the bruise is fading it is extremely painful and I think he cracked the orbital bone around my eye.

I am super psyched about the next two things…

My dad and I built this bench together on Thursday evening. I was/am so excited! I still need to sand, paint, attach the wheels and place the baskets in the cubbies, but wow, so cool! We had so much fun working on this together and we are planning other projects. I emailed tonight was another suggestion and now I am FULL of ideas.

And last, but certainly not least I did a photo session with Kelli and Aiden and I am so excited about the images. I had a lot of fun with them but oh my goodness was it hot! Heat index was 105* and ya’ll know I don’t like heat. We were saved by a breeze and a towel. Thankfully kids never seem to feel the heat and Aiden & Kelli were true troopers. I plan on posting the photos in the next couple of days on my photography website, but here is a sneak peek for Kelli.

I am in love with this photo. Kelli had mentioned that this “is so Aiden” so I am glad I was able to capture it. Why, you ask is he squatting on a rock and looking at the water? Fish, people, HUGE fish. You can see them to the left of his arm. They had little brownish fish and huge koi.

Healer, heal thy self

2010-06-13T15:10:00.002-04:00

As women, especially mothers, we are healers. From early on many of us gravitate towards caring for baby dolls, having tea parties and assisting with younger siblings. Its no mystery why there are so many women working as nurses or teachers—they are caring professions. It is so easy for us to give and give and give and yet we are so hesitant accept help or allow others to care for us. How many of you go without time for yourself or things that would make you feel more complete? I’m betting a number of you (of us).

The last month has been hard. It has been incredibly hard. It was so hard that I don’t really have many pictures commemorating just how hard it was. I hated being away from my baby for long days. I hated not tucking him in at night or bathing him or reading him stories. I hated missing out on tickle fests and giggle competitions. I hated it all. Most of all I hated feeling like I was an adoptive parent for the first time ever. All adoptive children come with some sort of emotional baggage—how could they not? Every child that is separated from their birth mother feels that on some emotional level. Even if they are reunited with their mother days, weeks or years later, even if there was someone in the interim to care for them and love them, they ALL feel that loss. It isn’t a memory they can speak of, it isn’t an event they can tell you about, but when they experience abandonment—in any form—there is an emotional and chemical reaction that occurs and marks that child’s memories and emotions. They are hard wired to fight abandonment, but for so many of our beautiful children they become hard wired to fight attachment once abandonment occurs. They become emotionally, if not physically, dependent on themselves for comfort.

I write all that to say this: Duc and I never experienced this in the first 17 months together. When we met I think we were both just ready. He was ready for a mom, I was ready for a child. All those horror stories of attachment that I read about and prepared my self for, well, I just never saw it. We were always just us as if we always were. It was never a struggle. It was something that many people commented on in those first weeks and months home. I don’t write that to brag, but to remind people that abandonment how ever if occurs, is always there.

I’ve known that Duc has never done well when I leave. From our first hours together until now, he always keeps his eyes on me when I am in the room. From the day of our G&R people commented that he would look for my laugh. He knows it well. If family is visiting and someone else is holding him he always asks about mommy. He likes to know where I am and what I am doing at all times. At home he has always been underfoot. We stopped going to church once he got to the age where I could no longer contain him during the service and he had to go to the toddler room. He would cry hysterically and for prolonged periods of time. I could hear him even over the sound of the band playing. Yes, my baby has issues with abandonment.

But never did this become more apparent than in the last month or two. A year ago I went from seeing him 5 hrs/work day to 3 hrs/day to one hour or less a day 4-6 weeks ago. It was tough on me, it was tougher on him. I started seeing behaviors I had never seen before and it broke my heart. I cried every day for the 10 days I was away from my baby (seeing him 15-30 minutes a day because my mom or dad would bring him to work so we could see each other). The hardest thing for me was that this began on May 19th. His birthday, or as I know it, the day of his abandonment. It seemed horribly ironic that on the second year marking that day I was, in a sense, abandoning him as well.

My mom is a counselor and her current job has her working primarily with foster kids, adoptive kids and families, and birth moms who are trying to get children back from the foster care system or prevent them from going into the system. She has become an attachment expert as a result of her work. She told me it wasn’t my fault. I was not really abandoning him. That I was still seeing him every day and he saw my face every morning. But it still hurt. It hurt when he went to them for all his needs, when he pushed me away. When he laid in his crib at night crying for an hour or more because he was so mad at me and yet he wouldn’t let me console him. It hurt.

The first day home my parents made a point of staying away (they actually stayed away for a week so we would have time to bond again). Duc wanted held the whole time. He wouldn’t let me put him down. He dug through his closet and found the mai tai I wore in Vietnam and the first months home.

Over the last few weeks we have begun to heal. He is allowing some space between us again and he has been in time-out several times the last few days. He is also playing with his toys independently again. For weeks he wouldn’t play with his toys unless I was holding him. Seeing him naught and playful again has made life easier.

And now that he is beginning to heal, it is my turn. I built some raised beds and planted a garden two weeks ago and things are looking very good! I have made bread, fixed a pot of green beans like my mama used to do, I crocheted some dishrags (and can I say how good it felt to crochet again? I haven’t crocheted since the week before I left to meet Duc), I bought a cook book and made some good food. I made my own detergent (yes, I did!) and am trying to live simpler. I have a few days off so I am going to see a movie—a total guilty pleasure—The A-Team. I’m going to do some wood working with my dad because it has long been a hope to learn how to make things out of wood. I like the idea of self sustainability.

And I got Bertha out again and began snapping photos. It felt good. It felt right. It was something I couldn’t do even two weeks ago because I felt so empty and burned out. I feel some of my passions returning. Some of my joy in the simple things. And the best part of all, Duc enjoys it too.

2010-05-15T00:34:00.004-04:00

Nearly two weeks ago Duc sliced open his finger. Well, filleted is actually a better description. From below the first joint, across the joint and into the nail bed the blood gushed. I witnessed the accident and even with me sitting next to him the blood ran down his fingers into my cupped hand creating a puddle that I had to pour into the sink. I struggled to get him to the kitchen so I could wash the wound and examine it. He was bleeding so heavily I couldn't see the depth of his wound. After 10 minutes of pressure I called Michael to rescue us and I called my mom in tears while I waited.

Duc's wails punctuated my own tears as I told my mom how hard it was to see my son in pain. She told me it never got easier. Even seeing your adult children in pain tears a mother up.

I hung up and thought I'm not cut out for this.

It is hard to watch your child cry out in pain and worse to anticipate the pain and tears that will someday come.

Duc knows something is going on with me. As much as I try to hide my feelings and brighten up when we are together I am sure he senses something is off. He has been clingier than normal and today as I dropped him off for daycare he clung to me harder than he ever has before. He locked his little hands around my neck and did his best to do the same with his legs. It was like having a second layer of skin. It took two daycare employees to pull him off of me. When I looked back at him as I slipped out the door his arms were still out stretched as he screamed and cried. I cried all the way home.

While Duc and I attached to each either amazingly well, I know this is still a process and the next 2-3 weeks are going to be tough. I know the dependence he has on me and how anxious and desperate he becomes when I am not in eyesight. The daycare staff tell me he says "mommy" all day long. When my family sits with him they say the same. I can hear it when I use the bathroom at a restaurant and leave him with friends. While I know that all children go through stages where they need their mommies more, I also know his is slightly different. The need is something more.

Some day he is going to realize I wasn't the first mother and that the other one left.

I wonder if there will always be a little piece of him that is desperate--for her, for me, for something we can't give him. Someday he may realize, as I finally did, that those that love you can't always give you the kind of love you crave. It can't be found at the bottom of a bag of chips, in a beer or in a stranger's bed.

Watching this unfold brings back memories of my own childhood. I remember my mother dropping me off at another child's home and leaving me in a strange home without her. I remember watching the car pull away and the desperation I felt as I thought she's leaving me...again. I cried, I screamed and I wouldn't leave the window. I don't know if they were ever able to engage me in play or not--all I remember is the anguish I felt. I was 4.

Other mothers comfort me when they see me wrestling with him in public. The assure me that as he gets older it gets easier. I don't doubt he will follow direction better and not act so feral, but I don't imagine that motherhood ever truly gets easier. Not when you feel the pain of the little heart tied so closely to your own. Not when their pain is your pain.

Perspective

2010-05-12T22:55:00.003-04:00

One of my fondest summer memories was a tradition that never really took hold. My parents had bought a hand crank ice cream machine. I remember going to the local dairy which included an evening trip to a farm where we poured the cream and my dad left some change on the work bench. I remember the ice and the salt and watching my parents take turns laboring over the crank. My sister and I would anxiously hover wanting the first bite of ice cream and it always took SO long to finish.

Recently I was sharing this memory with my mother and I told her I was thinking of buying an AUTOMATIC ice cream machine. I’m not into ice cream and Duc is lactose intolerant, but the desire to recreate my fond memory with my son was a little too sweet to resist.

Her response surprised me. She asked why I would ever want to do it—she remembered the mess, all the cranking and remembered we gave up on it after only a few attempts.

Our perspectives of the same experience were totally different and I find myself thinking of that a lot lately.

It’s been over 3 weeks since i updated this blog and I think that may be the longest I have ever gone. A series of events left me being so physically and emotionally drained that I simply shut down. By the end of the work day I didn’t want to talk and I certainly didn’t want to email or read blogs. I spent as much time with Duc—we needed it. It’s been a rough 3 weeks and it is only going to get a bit tougher before it gets better. I read up on gardening and living a simpler, more organic lifestyle. I slowed down, soaked it all in, made bread and tried to enjoy as much time as I could with a sick and clingy toddler.

I remind myself that we all have choices. There is always an A and a B. I can choose to feel like a victim or I can take charge of my situation. So I adjusted my attitude and reminded myself that I will do anything and everything I have to for my family.

Duc’s birthday is a week from today. My little man is going to be 2. I’m happy for him, but his birthday always brings a bit of sadness to my life. I can’t love him and celebrate him without remembering how we became a family. I know there is a woman out there that rubbed her belly and probably named him long before he was born. I don’t recall if I have shared it here or not, but the reason I named him Duc was because I imagined it might be a name his first mother might have chosen for him.

I’m also sad because I will miss my son’s birthday. My work schedule is going to get nasty for the next few weeks, but the ugliest day will be his birthday. My parents are going to be taking care of him while I am away.

So, while I have plenty of things I want to write about in the coming weeks, they will likely have to wait until June.

Oh, and if any of you have suggestions on an affordable vacation I’m all ears:D

One big happy community

2010-04-18T01:17:00.002-04:00

As an adoptive community we are large, and no, we don’t all know each other (I’m sure some of you reading know exactly what I am talking about—how many times have you been asked if you knew this person’s aunt’s step-daughter’s step-child that also adopted from China), but the actions of one parent impact us all, some directly and some in-directly. Adoptive parents always receive more scrutiny, more curiosity and we become used to having people ask us personal questions about our fertility, how our families were created and about our children’s birth families.

I have been following the story of Torry Hansen and her returned Russian son with the same morbid curiosity as the rest of the country. None of us want to hear something like this. As adoptive parents we fight to have a legitimate role as parents when too many view as “not real parents” because we are raising children not biologically related to us. The media and government remind us every day that there is a difference between us and all other families. From census forms to taxes to filling out medical forms we are reminded that we are different. When an AP does something so out of the norm, so villainous, we all feel it. We are all expected to respond.

For most, we will agree that it was a dastardly deed. The thought of sending your child alone to another country, well, it defies logic. Most of the non-adoptive community won’t understand this, can’t understand this. To them this is just further proof that adoptive children are not as good as bio children.

I am not defending Torry’s actions, but I do feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for the child that was her son. I feel sorry for the children in Russia and for their American parents that they will never meet. I feel sorry for all of them.

But I view this as a cautionary tale to all adoptive parents and to be perfectly honest it may not be such a bad thing to finally put it all out there and talk about it. I don’t know Torry. I don’t know her past. I don’t know if she watches TV at night or volunteers in a homeless shelter. I do know she found herself overwhelmed. I know she didn’t make a wise decision, but whether was out of anger, stupidity or out of feeling helplessness and exhaustion, I just don’t know. I don’t know the child and if what she said is true just as I don’t know if what he said about her is true, but having some familiarity with children that have come out of the Russian orphanage system and out of the US foster care system, I would not be surprised if that child had some degree of attachment disorder. If so, parenting and loving a child dealing with attachment disorder is a challenging thing. I personally know a mother that adopted out of the US foster care system and didn’t realize the child had RAD. This child lived with her for a year before she finally understood that something was wrong and the child was finally diagnosed. For her, she never considered disruption. She takes her daughter (and usually the rest of the family) to a RAD specialist 1-2 times a week. She drive 2 hours each direct for these appointments. She quit her job and became a stay at home mom because her daughter could not safely be around other children and could not be in the public school system. She sleeps with every door in the house locked and there are no sharp items any where in the house. There are also no matches, no lighters, no candles and no lit fireplaces. They use plastic utensils.

We look at the decision that Torry made and can’t fathom any parent returning a child. But they do. International adoptions are disrupted with alarming frequency. I remember feeling shocked the first time I heard of it, but now I hear about it several times a month. This isn’t limited to adoptive parents. Bio families disrupt also. Some of you may remember the safe haven law in Nebraska that had to be changed in late 2008 because so many parents were bringing their children, most between the ages of 10 and 17, to hospitals and claiming safe haven. In some cases the parent(s) was just too poor, but in others, they truly could not deal with their child. I used to work in a hospital with a psychiatric center. We saw adults and pediatrics and nearly every time I was floated to that unit a parent was coming in trying to unload their child onto their system. We look at the faces of our beautiful, sweet children and can’t picture a violent child, but they are everywhere. A nearby town recently made national news when the police Tasered a 10 year-old boy. His caregiver called the police twice that day to ask for help.

As a society we believe love conquers all, but it doesn’t. If you’ve ever had your heart broken, you know that love does not conquer all.

Those of us watching this drama unfold in the comfort of our living rooms may feel slightly smug. It seems so obvious to us. You get counseling, you involve your social worker and as a last resort you disrupt the adoption in the US (you do NOT send your child back to the country of origin!). But when you are in deep and you are exhausted and you see no other options you fall into survival mode. As a teen-ager we had a number of different girls living in our house and they all shared a room with me. We had a couple of foster kids and after the last one I said NO MORE. She a year older than me, a year behind me in school, 7 inches taller and 50 lbs heavier than I. I don’t know her back-ground and I have no idea why she was placed in foster care, but I quickly learned to make sure she always fell asleep first at night. I learned to never turn my back on her and I think that is when I began to always make sure my back was to a wall and I could find my way out of a room, a life skill, unfortunately, that I still practice today. I was in survival mode. I was scared. I never told my parents about it, I just told them never again.

I don’t know Torry. I never met her son. I have no idea if what she is saying is true or if what he says is true. I just don’t know. But I do know that there are many sides to a story and I know how hard it is when you find yourself in deep and overwhelmed. I know that some adoptive parents are amazingly unprepared and falsely believing that faith and prayer will relieve them of any future hardship.

To be perfectly honest, I was scared to become a parent. It felt right and it felt like something I was supposed to do, but I was scared. I have experience with attachment disorder. I know how scary and hard it is and there was a part of my brain that wondered if my personal experience was somehow preparing me for parenting a child with attachment disorder. The scariest moments of my life were on December 18, 2008 around 1:30 pm. I was preparing to meet Duc and I was freaked out. I was excited, but I was freaked out. The entire way to the orphanage I began to question myself—just what was I thinking? My life was good, I was happy, I didn’t need to do this, did I? What if this was a huge mistake? I went into the adoption with my eyes wide open, preparing and expecting the worst.

When people ask me if parenthood was everything I thought it would be, I tell them it is better. it is easier. It seems strange, I know, but I was really prepared for something very different. Of course, Duc is young and signs of attachment disorder may not arise until years from now, but at least I know I am as prepared as I can be. I know who to call and I have a plan.

****Reminder: I am not defending her actions. I hope this will be a place for positive discourse***

I’ll be back soon…promise

2010-04-15T23:31:00.002-04:00

I’ll be back soon, I swear. I made myself promise not to blog or hang out on the internet until I completed my taxes and I finally did…two days ago. I have never waited until the week taxes were due and honestly, I don’t have a good excuse. I’m still able to claim his adoption expenses so I am getting a nice return and I could really use the money. My fridge is leaking water all over the floor and I pray I don’t have damage to my flooring.

I just couldn’t make myself do my taxes. I am tired of paperwork. I am tired of 171s and updating home studies. I’m tired of re-adoption paperwork and tired of shuffling paper at work. There is a part of my brain that wants to escape. Grab the Duc and just go somewhere without even packing a bag. I want an adventure. I want to live off the grid. I want to spend every waking moment with my growing little man. I want to stand on a beach at sunset, just the two of us, and feel the sun on my face and watch the wind muss my son’s hair.

I want a break.

My Son

2010-04-04T00:37:00.001-04:00

And people thought I was the funny one in the family…

Regret

2010-03-25T23:24:00.002-04:00

This is definitely one of my favorite photos from the last few weeks:) I can’t believe how serious and how grown up he looks. Makes me slightly sad and happy simultaneously if that makes sense.

I’ve been enjoying some time off the web. No blogging. No reading blogs or websites or even reading photography sites. I’ve been reading, trying to keep my house clean, enjoying every SINGLE minute with my son and I’m re-discovering HULU. And to my Canadian readers I would just like to say I LOVE your shows! I started with Regenerist and stumbled across Being Erica. You know, of course, that I am going to love B.E. How could I not? She has my name (and it is spelled correctly!), born the same year, graduated at the same time, similar interests (writing), fell in love with her best friend (a dude, just so we are clear), single, etc.

If you aren’t familiar with it, the premise is of a single 32 year-old woman who has the worst day ever and winds up in the ER with anaphylactic reaction. A mysterious therapist arrives and she agrees to begin therapy because she doesn’t like where life has lead her and she blames it on a series of missteps and regrets in her life. She makes a list of EVERY single thing she regrets and through the series when various stressors arise her therapist forces her to examine and relive these experiences and re-write what she would have done. It’s a cross between Sex & the City, Quantum Leap and a few other shows and I absolutely LOVE it. I am addicted.

This clip is supposed to be circa 1995, several years pre-Brit Brit.

It’s been rather thought provoking and I’ve begun wondering, do I have any regrets? If I had to take stock of my life, what decisions do I wish I had made differently?

To be honest, that’s how I do most of my decision making. Before I cast my final vote I always contemplate whether I will regret not moving forward with it later. I picture myself in my final days reviewing my life and taking stock, will this be a decision I will regret not making. It is too easy for me to say no, it is much more difficult to be brave.

As I write this I realize this post is going in an entirely different direction than I had planned. Instead of reflecting back on my regrets I am remembering those few acts of bravery. Those moments where I moved ahead knowing I never wanted to think of what I may have missed.

In late 2007 I made the decision to begin a second adoption not even a year after submitting a dossier to China. I was afraid. I was afraid of the finances, I was afraid of going through the heartache again, and to a certain degree I was afraid of trying to raise a boy by myself. I knew nothing about boys (still don’t), but somehow I had this overwhelming feeling it was right.

Two years ago yesterday I finally completed my dossier for Vietnam The local CIS lost my paperwork several times and instead of taking 4-6 weeks as it does for most, it took about 12 weeks. Those of you reading this that were adopting at the same time can remember the stress of completing an adoption from Vietnam in 2008. My agency sent my paperwork to San Fran to have the necessary stamps from the Vietnamese embassy. What should have taken 1-2 weeks once again took much longer than anticipated. Finally, 4 weeks later I got the email from my agency that my dossier was completed and would be sent to Vietnam the following day and my fees were now due. The very next day news broke that the MOU would not be renewed.

I remember reading the news and my heart sunk. My dossier was being sent and I had to send off every cent I had, including the money I had saved towards my China adoption (which at the time seemed like a surer bet). It was a gamble. I don’t remember the night as well now, but I think there were a couple of tears. A whole lot of tossing and turning. And prayer. Lots and lots of prayer. The only thing that gave me any comfort was not every wanting to look back and wonder if I made the right decision.

Obviously, you know how it turned out. I was on the line until the very end. On August 29th I received a message from my agency telling me that VN was releasing some of the referrals because the VN’ese were tired of dealing with the US and their rules when they could refer to another country that would send parents much faster. On September 1st my agency did quick, brief email telling me that I was in and they would call in a few days.

Now, back to Being Erica. I’ve been thinking about regrets a lot lately. Until now I really haven’t had any although I feel like I am on precipice of one and I am trying to figure out what to do and how to get me on the right path. When I shared this with a friend today she seemed surprised that I had no regrets. She explained that she had quite a few, and like the fictional Erica, there were things she would have liked to have done differently.

I explained that not having regrets was not the same as living an ideal life. I’ve had LOT of heartaches. A lot of things that I wished at the time had turned out differently. There have been hard times in my life that I did not bring on myself and I tried everything I could to get out of them, but sometimes you have to go through tough times to appreciate what awaits you on the other side. And let me tell ‘ya, life has been very sweet lately, wouldn’t you agree?

Just check the box…

2010-03-18T23:17:00.001-04:00

The other day the forms arrived. You know the ones…they are being mailed to every house in the US and if the media is to believed they are even more important than my vote every four years.

I, like so many Americans, am a blend of different nationalities that resulted in the uber-white American that I am. My last name is Irish, but the majority of my family on both sides is traced back to Scotland. There is also a dash or German and a pinch of English thrown in for good measure. My son, like me is also a blend, but where we differ is that I have absolutely no idea about his ethnicity. I adopted him from the country of Vietnam. He has a very Asian face, but not a face that looks like those of his countrymen. Many Asians ask me “what kind of Asian is he?” and those that don’t ask guess he is Chinese or Chinese-Korean.

I teasingly tell my son that he is Samoan. What you may not be able to tell from pictures is that he is quite broad shouldered. Although his height and weight at his last check-up were right at the 50th percentile on the American charts, He has been wearing 2T tops for a while, but not because his shirts are getting short. His shoulders are just so wide that trying to pull his shirts off over his head is like peeling a sausage casing off the sausage. Physically he does not fit the typical “Asian” build that so many Americans and Asians attribute to most Asians. Every time I see Kelli and Aiden I HAVE to pick up Aiden at least once for a weight comparison. While they are about the same height, Duc is 3-4 lbs heavier, but he is not overweight. He is exceptionally strong. He can lift more than his own weight and has been able to do this since I met him at 7 months old. He can do chin-ups and he doesn’t make it look hard. Last weekend I visited my sister and we did some grocery shopping. I was having trouble carrying my bags into the house, but my mom was busy holding a baby, my sister had her bags so I told them to send Duc out to help. They laughed thinking I was being silly, but I wasn’t. He came out and grabbed a bag and hauled it into the house.

For the 2010 census I am going to check multiple boxes. This decade he will be Chinese, Vietnamese (both choices actually reflect a person’s nationality and not so much their actual race or ethnicity. The gov’t really needs to spring for a cultural anthropologist at some point)and I am debating a write in Hmong (he looks most like Hmong in my opinion). The next time I check the boxes he will be nearly 12 years-old and he may look completely different by then. By then I may have more information about his heritage or DNA genealogy will have improved. Until then I am checking boxes.

Perfection

2010-03-09T23:16:00.002-05:00

I think the last few days have been the most fun I have had with Duc in a very long time. I’m not saying we don’t usually have fun, but the last few days have been exceptional. No time outs, no *major* meltdowns—just lots of giggles and orneriness.

Yesterday I had to make a trip to Indy for my nearly yearly visit to Homeland Security for yet another fingerprint appointment. I was beginning to sweat it a bit. Last summer I completed the homestudy update when Duc and I had our 6 month post-placement visit. Then I left it…after the almost baby girl event in July I just couldn’t. It made me too sad and slightly ill to even try to pull it together. In September I had a panicked thinking that I was expiring that month. Well, I was an idiot. My fingerprints expired, but the 171H was still current. Finally, on January 2nd with exactly 3 weeks left I sent it off with a kiss and a hope that this might be the end of it.

The last time I visited the USCIS office Duc was still a hope & and a prayer away and I had no idea if I would see either baby. This time I dragged Duc along for the road trip and we had a wonderful time together. The whole time they rolled my fingerpinrts he kept up a running dialogue and waved and chit-chatted with all the others there. He never ceases to amaze me. After our appointment we went to my favorite Vietnamese restaurant. I just couldn’t pass it up since I was so close, but unfortunately Duc had a meltdown while we were eating and once the noodles and meatballs began flying through the air it was suddenly time to get the heck out of there. Actually, I think the noodles were still in the air when the owner swooped in with a big, wet towel to wipe up the mess. I apologized repeatedly, but assured me his 3 kids did the same thing.

The highlight of the day was actually much later in the day. We didn’t get back to town until the witching hour—the hour I refer to when he gets a bit manic because he’s so tired and it is too close to bedtime—and I still needed to go grocery shopping. He was whiney until I put him down to help push the cart. He loved it! We started racing through the aisles and then he began running ahead to pick up groceries—he grabbed an armful of ramen noodles (and, no, I don’t usually buy them because of the sodium levels), canned soups, potato chips (of course, he has a bit of obsession with them which is why we don’t have any in the house. Ever. Especially since both of us could eat our way through a bag pretty quick). At one point he ran ahead and I was having trouble seeing him. By the time I located him he was in one of the six yogurt cooler doors pulling down his favorite yogurt brand and flavors. Honestly, watching him run through the store and shop made me realize he really pays attention to everything we do.

Other Highlights from the last week:

Duc has begun potty training and without going into detail I’ll just say he has successfully been using the bathroom.
He turned to me on Sunday and with his finger pointing at me said, “Stop it!” Too funny!
Tonight, for the first since he entered my life, let me wash the dinner dishes after eating. While in the same room. While he was awake. Without whining, hitting me or throwing things. He stood next to me while I washed and he played with the bubbles in the sink. We had water everywhere, but it was so worth it!
He’s really helpful around the house now.
In the morning after we are both dressed we go to the living room and I put both of our socks on. Once done, he gathers up our shoes and brings them back to me. He even picks out my shoes based on what he has seen me wearing recently. He even releases the velcro on our shoes so I can get them on both of our feet.
He carries in groceries from the car to the door, from the door to the kitchen and helps upack them. Yeah, he’s getting too big a big boy.
He especially loves to carry the massive packages of TP that I buy (I hate buying it so I buy in bulk)
He puts his laundry away.
He reminds me to hang up our coats (which until this week never happened because I was always chasing after him)
He blows his nose by himself and throws his kleenex away.
He brushes him own teeth.
He asks for soap during his bath and he scrubs himself down.
He puts his toys away...somedays:)
He picks up ice cubes that fly out of our crazy ice chute and throws them away.
He has his bottom 2 year molars and the top ones have broken through.
He is growing like a weed and is now wearing 18-24 month pants and 2T shirts (this kid has massive shoulders)
He loves to run.
He insists on using chop sticks every time we have noodles, we eat at an Asian restaurant or he sees me use mine. And sometimes he can actually pick up the food and eat with them. I need to buy him some of the baby chop sticks they have at some of the specialty stores.

A few weeks ago I was driving us home from school and work and I glanced in the back seat. For the narrowest of seconds I really thought I was looking at a 5-7 year-old boy. He is growing so quickly and for the first time since he bounded into my life, I'm not fighting it. I'm enjoying every minute of it and I am just amazed at the difference a day makes. On Saturday he could pull the doors in the house shut, but could never lock them or open them up again. On Sunday, he could.

On Saturday we went to the park to play. Last summer and fall we played there a lot, but I always got a lot of looks from the other parents since i allowed him to go down big slides by himself. Yeah, he was tiny and barely a year old, but his physical abilities are amazing! On Saturday he was once again the youngest and smallest in the park, but not the least coordinate. He climbed the steps all by himself holding the hand rail. He climbed all the way to the top and went down the tall slide all by himself. I even heard other parents and grandparents pointing him out to their kids talking about the little boy that went down the big slide by himself.

I realize this post is really more for me than any on you. I've gotten pretty lazy about journaling and it was easier to grab my computer than focus on pen and paper. I hope you will allow a little latitude as I have really been blown away by him lately. I always look forward to picking him up from daycare, but lately it is all I can do not to pick him up early or put him to bed late. I just can't wait to spend time with him again!

Conversations with my son

2010-03-01T22:06:00.002-05:00

A conversation with my son from this weekend:

Me: Are you a big boy or a little boy?

Duc: Big boy!

Me: Are you sure?

Duc: (quite coyly) Maybe…

This boy kills me. He is such a rascal and yet a charmer. It’s an evil combination and I suspect it won’t be too long before I’m fielding phone calls from little girls in his class.

A conversation this evening as he brushed his teeth:

Me: Duc, where is your hair? (Duc pointed to his hair)

Me: Duc, point to your nose. (Duc pointed)

Me: Duc, where is your eye? (Duc pointed to his eye).

And on and on I went reviewing his anatomy above the neck. He doesn’t know the rest of his anatomy so well so we started reviewing it.

Me: Duc, where is your boo? (this is his pet name for some of his, uh, anatomy.)

Duc grabbed my breasts.

Yeah, not exactly what I was referring to.

I’m trying some new photo styles out. Ya’ll know I normally love bright, saturated colors…I even created a photo setting on my camera to increase the color in my photos. I love photos that look vivid and very vibrant, but I thought I would try some new things out. What do you all think?

From the North

2010-02-22T11:19:00.000-05:00

We were blessed with a visit from the North and fortunately it had nothing to do with snow! Kelli and Aiden came for a visit on Saturday bringing fun with them.

If Duc senses you can read you are fair game. The boy has really gotten into reading books the last month or so. Before this I would two words and he would rip the book out of my hands and start flipping pages. Not any more…he wants every word, every page covered.

I LOVE this sneer! How cute is this face! I can only imagine what the boys are talking about here, but I’m sure it wasn’t good. Duc LOVES to look at images. If I don’t pull the camera out every day he will go over to the camera and say “pic-tur”. After I take his photo he wants to review it on the screen just like he did with Kelli in this photo. I love this photo. I love the light, the crisp color and the way they are both oblivious to me. I’m not really sure Duc is sharing. I think he picked it out of Aiden’s cup. Oh well. At least he let him eat a few of them:)

Yeah, this is my little rascal after he took Aiden’s cookie. The boy has been eating me out of house and home lately. On Friday night he ate an entire adult serving of bulgogi (bolgoogee—whichever spelling you prefer—it’s a Korean dish of sautéed spicy beef).

Kelli, we had an awesome time! I was in bed shortly after the CNY party and I slept 11 hours!!!! That’s the most I’ve slept at once since my flight on Korean Air to Vietnam over a year ago! Can’t wait to see you both again!

Easy Does It

2010-02-21T21:55:00.001-05:00

Thank you to those that provided advice and support after last week’s post. I truly appreciate it. I’ve been a parent for 14 months + 2 days and I’ve learned that there isn’t a one-fit parenting method. I’ve learned that what worked last week may not work this week or any week following it. It’s an evolving process and I took this time to re-adjust my parenting.

Because he insists on being a big boy I forget that he isn’t too far from baby. A lot of our troubles seem to be around meal time—throwing food, utensils and dumping food on the floor. Some of that may be toddler related, but I knew that he didn’t always behave that way. Duc began feeding himself when he was 9 months old and a few months ago he migrated from finger food to eating with utensils. Lately though he had begun handing the fork over to me. In my hurry and stressed state I didn’t realize that was my son’s way of trying to connect with me at a time when I was distracted and short on time. So, now I am back to feeding my son. Often time he takes the fork away from me a few bites in and if he sees my attention drift from him he prompts me again by passing me his fork. I’m even updating our bedtime routine for some more mommy-babe time. I hold him close in the dark and sway while the music plays. I can feel his little body relax and when he is ready he says “night-night” and I lay him down without tears.

I’m still stressed and I’m still working longer hours, but I am making sure that the time I do have is devoted to him. Quality, as we know, is often more important than quantity.

Today, Michael and I took him out while we did some photography around town. He hung out, happy as a clam, playing with his cards when we took pictures of this and that. We let him out to run on the trail and I was amazed that Duc could run as long and as fast as he could. His little feet flew! Oh,and Michael taught him to throw snowballs at mommy…not nice boys.

It was a good day and a nice end to a good weekend.

02.17.10

2010-02-17T22:49:00.001-05:00

At least once or twice a week Duc wakes up sometime between 9:30-11 pm. He could settle himself back to sleep, but I always wait for the sound of his stirring. I can’t wait to rush in and swoop my baby up. He greets me usually sitting up, but with his eyes closed and arms outstretched knowing to expect mama will come to comfort him. I pick him up and he settles in against my neck and chest. Swaying quietly in the dark I relish these moments when my baby is quiet and wants to cuddle. Standing there tonight I noticed how long his body stretched against mine. Even when his head was against my shoulder his legs swung halfway down my own. My baby is getting big and I’m holding on to each possible second with him that I can. I’m going to be sad when he no longer wakes up and needs his mama. I’m going to hate it when he no longer grabs a book and plops into my lap while I sit legs crossed on the floor. I’m going to miss peek-a-boo and the high-pitched giggle he releases when a belly laugh rolls up from his toes and out through the top of his thrown-back head. Yeah, I love these moments. I want to take a week off and stay up all night just watching him sleep.

Happy V-day

2010-02-14T21:30:00.001-05:00

I’ve had a reoccurring dream for the last 15 years, a nightmare really. I dream I am in college and I show up to class to learn that I have missed the entire semester and have shown up on the day of the final. I am mortified by this and afraid of what the teacher must think of me. I wonder what happened to all the other classes—why am I finally here now?

It’s been a long while since I’ve had the dream, but I had it again this week and it has always been pretty indicative that things are out of control in my waking hours. The week before my last post was bad, despite the inner calm I had. This past week it all went to hell. I have picked up my camera twice in the last 8 days (incidentally both Sundays) not because there was nothing to shoot, but because I really didn’t want anything to remember this past week by. Stuff at work has gotten progressively more challenging and not in a this-is-good-for-me-and-I-need-to-stretch-myself kind of way. Too much to do, taking too much of it home at night. On Wednesday daycare reported that Duc had been aggressive with the other children and when the teacher attempted to correct him he slapped her in the face. Parents don’t want to believe that our children are the barometer measuring the stress of our lives, our homes, but they are. At that point I knew I was in trouble and Duc was feeling it as much as I was.

I know this won’t last forever and I know at some point the stuff at work will cycle to a close, and trust me, I try to remind myself of that every time that ball of anxiety tightens in my belly. Last night I was feeling anxious about it all over again so I cruised the web to distract myself. I was looking up some photography sites and came across the blog of a photographer who’s infant son was recently killed by pertussis. I sat there sobbing as I felt the pain seep out through her words, her photos. And it hit me, despite life’s daily stresses I still have my son, I still have my family.

I am so grateful to my family—especially the women. There are no other boys in my family so neither my mother or my sister know the joys or the struggles of raising a son, especially not one that is headstrong and hellbent on showing himself and everyone else that he can do things ahead of his emotional age. And that is the struggle—a child that developmentally is 3 years-old, but who emotional and physically is still 18-20 months. He is frustrated. A lot. This weekend has been especially difficult—he is refusing naps when he normally takes 2—1 1/2-2 hour naps each weekend day. Come 6:30 pm he begs me for “night night” and I am more than happy to oblige. If anyone has learned how to teach their child not to throw please advise me! He loves to throw his food, his pacifier, and anything else he get his hands on (he threw a fork at me during dinner which ended his dinner and put him in time out). At the same time he is clingy and cries if I won’t hold him constantly. Normally he is pretty good about playing by himself, but this weekend he wouldn’t pick up a toy unless he was throwing it.

Thank God for chocolate!

02.06.2010

2010-02-07T00:16:00.001-05:00

There has been a growing unrest in my soul, a sense that I am on the brink of something. A feeling that scares me and excites me as I wait for for “it” to reveal itself. I’ve come to realize that these feelings often lead me to a deeper level of understanding myself that I did not know existed, a well of strength or a promise of a chance for growth. I’ve never been a fan of change, but it was a feeling not unlike this one that lead me to realize that I was strong enough to be a single parent. That I was strong enough to parent two children. It’s that feeling that lead me to pick up the pen and sign the forms and why I continue to sign time and time again. And here it is again, but this time it doesn’t involve children.

I find myself searching the internet, looking for answers, looking for connections, looking for the key to unlock it within myself. I should also know by now that it reveals itself at the right time. In the weeks and months before my ‘ah-ha’ adoption moment I had conversations with strangers and friends alike leading me down the path. People entered my life precisely when they were supposed to, guiding me without ever knowing it. I had dreams of children that looked nothing like me and I could feel, I could feel this incredible attachment, a love, for these children I had never seen before.

But at the same time, despite the unease within, I’ve been more content, happier than I ever recall feeling before in my life. Despite what you may think, it is not related to Duc. He does bring joy to my life, but the feeling I have is deeper and something coming from deep within. I realized a few weeks ago that I am no longer wishing my weeks away. It actually came as a surprise when I woke up a few Mondays ago and groaned and wondered how long the week would be. It struck me, it had been weeks if not months since the last time I thought that. I’m finally learning to enjoy each day and the challenges and blessings that come with it.

In December I felt a shift within. When things got tough, I got zen. It has actually been a joke at work—how can I remain so calm when things are not going well with our project. Even though I had a rough patch this week (between Duc and I both being sick and sleep deprived the crap at work was just the icing on the cake), I still feel most incredibly content.

I don’t know where this will go, this feeling. Perhaps it is just a seed that must wait for the time of rain before truly germinating, but until then I remain open and excited about the direction my life is heading. And hopefully Duc doesn’t mind being along for the ride.

He doesn’t listen

2010-02-05T22:38:00.001-05:00

He doesn’t listen. Every day I ask him, beg him, slow down! Mommy isn’t ready for you to be a big boy. Mommy isn’t ready to give up on the “baby” that my son used to be.

To be fair, he never misled me. He made it pretty clear from the first day that he would do things on his time which often means earlier than I am ready. It’s not his fault and most parents would be thrilled to have a child that runs forward and never looks back. Not that I am complaining…as an adoptive parent I was prepared for the delays (not that I am saying he won’t have some that won’t present when he begins reading and attending school), not for the child that insists on being ahead of everyone else.

Before Duc I didn’t know about children or the milestones. Every time he would do something I was thrilled because I knew he was reaching milestones. It wasn’t until other parents began telling me that their child was xx months old before doing something. While I waited to travel to Duc I received a LOT of photos and I am so grateful to the mamas that traveled to their children or visited his orphanage that would send me photos and videos. It sustained me during the wait. I carried those photos with me every where and I slept, and continue to sleep, one of those first photos next to my bed. Shortly after referral I visited a local jewelry store, an old mom ‘n pop place that I love. Something about it feels so homey and comforting—don’t ask why because I really don’t know. I had ordered a man’s ID bracelet with his name engraved. Of course, I had to spell it out and since his entire name is Vietnamese they asked me about it and I was all to proud to produce the picture. The woman waiting on me asked his age—he was 3-3/1/2 months at the time and was already pushing himself up. She told me her son just started to push him and he was nearly twice Duc’s age. At first I thought it was a fluke, but I’ve seen a pattern.

Because he started walking early the daycare placed him in the toddler room several months early—he was only 10 months old. At that point they took the bottles away and started him on a sippy cup. We put our baby bottles away around the time he was 13 months. It was sad. I didn’t dwell on it long, I just packed them away and hoped that I would someday use them again.

And now, well, now he is a big boy. He stopped using toddler ware and is now using silverware just like mommy. He unscrews the top of his sippy cup and drinks it like I drink mine. He doesn’t like sitting in his booster/baby seat for meals, he insists on sitting in an adult chair and sometimes I let him. And yesterday as I worked on 1-2-3’s with him I noticed that every time I would say 3 he would say 4. When I said 2 he said 3. He is beginning to see the relationship between items and it is so interesting to watch his little mind make these connections.

Today I picked him up from daycare early. We are in the midst of a winter storm and the roads were beginning to slicken so I decided to pick him up early. It was still nap time when I snuck into the room. I tiptoed over to the cot where he was sleeping and just sat that there watching him. We’ve always been able to sense when the other is near which is why it is nearly impossible to sneak into his room at night and watch him. He slept for another 60 seconds before opening his eyes and smiling at me. He reached out to grab my hand and we stayed like that while he finished waking up. It was probably the best part of my day.

Thank for your feedback on my last post. I really appreciate your support and advice. Things at work will hopefully settle down soon and Duc, well, what can I say? When he is sick it doesn’t just impact him. He was up all week and several days ago I began feeling sick. As I sit on the couch I have a fever and feel awful. I would really, really like it if we could make it through ONE month without one or both of us trekking to the doctor’s office. It’s expensive and tiring. Say a prayer that we both improve quickly.

Midnight

2010-02-03T23:03:00.002-05:00

I’m trying to grab my camera more, even if it is late at night:)

Duc is sick. Actually, he is still sick. He hasn’t really improved since nearly 4 weeks ago and I hate to keep dragging him to the doctor just to be told it is “viral”. It’s not viral and I suspect he has bronchitis. The coughing…oh, the coughing. I’m amazed he keeps his food down at all.

Something about Wednesday makes me very tired. Work has been tough, really tough. Long days and some challenging personality types. I have someone who keeps trying to rub my face in what she suspects are mistakes. I’ve been able to hit back with proof that I’m not negligent and highlight her own ignorance of the facts. I’m always pleasant, but I usually try to be nice to everyone. I pulled the gloves off today so she (and others) could see that I wasn’t going to be forced into a corner and I DO KNOW exactly what I am talking about. I hate that I have to waste so much energy defending myself and my work instead of actually focusing on what we can do to make our product better. Yucky yahoos (I’m trying to not curse in front of Duc so yahoo is my new word for a-hole and yes I know it makes me sound like an 80 year-old man cursing).

These photos were taken without flash with only the light of my bathroom light. I blew out my ISO (not totally maxed out for the camera) so the photos are a bit grainy. I actually like a little grain though:)

Not much to say tonight. I’m pooped. I’ve sat and watched TV the last two nights after putting Duc to bed and I am so thankful for brainless TV. It distracts me from my messy kitchen.

FYI--I lost all my blog links and your emails!

2010-01-31T23:42:00.002-05:00

I haven't visited many blogs lately due to a lot of computer problems. Yesterday it became painfully obvious that my computer had launched it's last website. I couldn't even pull any data off of it so I have lost ALL my emails and my blog links. So, if you are reading this and I know you or you know me--please leave a comment, preferably with your email address. My email address is listed in one of the links above.

Thanks!

The Perfect Race (?)

2010-01-31T21:50:00.003-05:00

My dear friend Jerri knows how much I LOVE trashy magazines. I won’t buy a People magazine, but I will devour a re-gifted one in no time at all! Talk about a guilty pleasure.

Anyway, there was an article on one of The Hill’s stars (can’t recall her first name, but her picture is above) and it struck me as kind of sad. I stared at her before and after and I wondered, is there a perfect race?

Hitler and his evil regime certainly thought so. Throughout history we have killed people based on little more than their ethnic identity—hair color, eye color, skin color, the shape of one’s nose, eyes or lips. But why? And what of our generation? What do we consider beautiful, what do we consider ugly?

For generations Asians have tried to whiten up with creams and those with eye folds were considered beautiful. Asians have also begun to enjoy the many miracles of silicone and a skilled surgeon’s hands and they are beginning to create their own ideal.

White Americans have bleached their hair and burned their skin for the past 40 years while black Americans artificially straightened their hair.

I looked at Montag’s “after” photo and she looked the same as every other nameless beauty in Hollywood. She could easily be one of Heff’s girlfriends or a porn star (evidently she got significant implants and wants to go back for some triple somethings…).

It appears we are creating our own “race”. We are creating faces and bodies that don’t match with the rest of society and are based on some beauty equation that I don’t understand. Since our ideal isn’t real, why do we continue to try and attain it? What is it about us that pushes us to become something we are not, something unnatural?

I look at my son and his beautiful caramel skin and his almond shaped eyes and I wonder how these images will impact his life. As an Asian American what kind of pressures will he be under to conform? Will he be as comfortable about his skin or his body shape as I am? I am far from the ideal woman—brunette, pudgy and oh so pale. Duc will never look like most the Vietnamese he will meet and he will never have the lean frame typical of many Asians. I hope I will be able to teach him that he is beautiful even if he doesn’t fit the “ideal” of many Asians and many Americans.

Thursday

2010-01-28T23:17:00.002-05:00

I have so many thoughts and posts rolling through my head right now, but I’m not ready to write, no t ready to let it out. Right now I’m focusing on the moment, the hear and now and not the past. I’ve been focusing quite a bit of time and energy on my business, but with working full time and having an incredibly busy, incredibly fun toddler, it hasn’t left much time for much else. My apologies for not keeping up or commenting on blogs lately.

Duc has been frustrated lately. He thinks he is a big boy and he is frustrated when he can’t do the things he sees or explain himself clearly. But he is also so much fun! Sometimes in the morning when I am trying to wake him up and he won’t cooperate I run my fingernails lightly across his bare back as he sticks his diaper up in the air at me. It always dissolves him into giggles and he will roll over so I can get his diaper off. Tonight I was sitting on the couch and he crawled up behind me, spread his legs and sat behind me as if I was in his lap. He pushed my shirt up and began running his fingers up and down my spine. It was my turn to laugh—I’m terribly ticklish!

He is fond of climbing up on the couch or on my bed and patting the seat next to him and saying, “Mommy, sit!” It melts my heart and even if I am in the middle of doing something (like getting ready for work) I have to stop and lay down next to him.

I will admit it, and don’t flame me for it, under my breath I sometimes mutter something like “you ornery little s***”. I don’t say it loud enough for him to hear and I don’t say it out of anger or mean-spiritedness. It is quite the opposite—it is out of amazement and appreciation of the twinkle in his eyes, even when I know it will likely lead to trouble. Yesterday at work a co-worker asked me a question and after I responded (trust me, I didn’t say anything I wouldn’t say in front of my boss or my mother) she looked at me and said, “you are a little devilish, you know that?” Those that know me would agree. Those that know my son would say the same thing. God has a sense of humor, you know?

I love this photo. It is just so Duc. Every night at 7 pm, regardless of where we are, Duc will stop and play ready-set-go. He runs full force and jumps into my arms (he knocks me over a lot). Then he runs back and starts it all over again. We have a blast!

Thank God

2010-01-24T22:39:00.001-05:00

I’m thanking God for two things especially:

For Caffeine
For not being Mormon (most the Mormons I know abstain for caffeine—oh well, more for me!)

Duc was kicked out of daycare for two days this week because he had a fever. I suspect it was related to teething because it only lasted a few hours and I never medicated him. Poor baby has been sick though, but the MD says it is viral (I’m not sure I agree since we are going on 3 weeks of ick). He was tested for RSV (negative) and had to go to the hospital for a chest x-ray (also negative). I think he has bronchitis.

I have been so productive the last two days I am amazed at myself! Seriously, I woke up Saturday morning exhausted. I woke up after 8 hours of sleep and was still tired. When Duc went down for a morning nap, I went down too. When he got up he was still in a mood so I decided to seek greener pastures—Oma & Opa’s house! Have you noticed your kids turn into angels when they visit their grandparents? Yeah, it was night and day.

I hate to say that Duc is starting his terrible twos because I don’t like the label. He’s going through a stage in his life that is causing us both to have some growing pains, just as I continue to go through stages within my own life. It is complicated by the fact that he is developmentally ahead of where he is physically and emotionally. He can do things that many children his age won’t be doing for another year or two, but emotionally he is still age appropriate. He gets frustrated so easily and so frequently these days and I know his inability to communicate certain things is a big factor. He is able to speak 3-4 word sentences and he can say some pretty complex words, but it will take some time until he is able to communicate more clearly. The family joke is that he is more understandable than my 4 1/2 year-old niece.

Anyway, back to what I was saying. Last night I came home from my parents’ to find that my ice maker went nuts while we were gone. It had poured water for hours and I had puddles all over my kitchen. My freezer was a mess. I had to throw out 90% of the food that was in there. All the drawers were filled completely with water in various stages of freezing. All the sides of the freezer with slicked with ice. I had been meaning to defrost and clean it out since some of that food had been in there for quite a while, but never got around to it. Well, I got it done last night. I also got every single stitch of our clothing washed, dried and hung up (for those that don’t know me, this NEVER happens). Today I also washed all the sheets and blankets and all my dishes are washed and put away. I went grocery shopping for the first time in 2 weeks (and saved $30!), made apple sauce and apple butter (I collect apples like they are shoes, don’t ask why), made BBQ chicken in the slow cooker, meatloaf. Took the babe for a haircut (totally hate it—I told her I wanted to keep the Beetle-esque essence to his ‘do because he actually looks better with longer hair on top and with sideburns. Yeah, she whacked it all off). Oh, and she cut him with shears. Yep, he had blood around his ear where she grazed him. Mama was not happy when she found this later. Getting his hair cut is very traumatic. He clings to me, screaming and crying, red-faced with snot flying. It is awful. I have no idea what to do so that he doesn’t get so upset. At this rate he will probably only get a haircut several times a year.

I was getting frustrated with my photography this week. All the pictures looked like crap! The red tones are too red, the whites blown out even when taken in low light. I couldn’t figure it out and I was wondering if something was wrong with the camera or with me. I kept looking over my settings and I couldn’t figure it out. Until I came around the couch one evening to find that Duc had figured out how to get the camera out of the bag, figured out how to turn it on, chose the menu button and began adjusting the settings. I had NO idea he knew how to do that, but he obviously pays more attention to me than I realize.

Duc sits like this a lot and despite what EVERY single person who sees him doing this thinks, he is NOT POOPING. He actually sits like this. And now I have figured out how to do it too and I use it alot. It’s actually pretty comfortable!

Duc Day

2010-01-19T22:55:00.002-05:00

Duc earned himself a day with Opa today and tomorrow. He got kicked out of daycare for 2 days because he had a fever of 102.5. Apparently in his small class 2 children had RSV and 2 had pneumonia so the daycare wasn’t taking chances. Which is a problem for a single mom who has not been able to save up ANY PTO. I am so, so thankful that my Dad retired a week before Thanksgiving. Honestly, it has been a Godsend having him living so much closer. It still takes a good 45 minutes but so much better!

I got off work around 1 pm and took Duc to the doctor even though his temp didn’t seem that bad—believe me, I’ve seen a lot worse out of him! I’m a total weenie when I get a call from the daycare. As soon as they tell me he is sick I go into this uber-mother mode where all I can think is “my baby needs me!”. The day was traumatic for him. After taking him to the doctor they wanted a chest x-ray since he’s had a cough for 10-12 days and now he has a fever. Given the fact that most of his class is out ill the doctor wanted to be proactive. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get x-ray images on a little toddler? Yeah, it was difficult and traumatic time for the little guy.

My son has decided that Opa (my dad) is the best thing ever! Last year my mom would gloat a bit that ALL the grandkids loved her. And Duc does, but he really appreciates hanging out with the big boys. He loves Opa and Uncle Mike. Honestly, when Opa is here he totally ignores me and pushes me away. And it is perfectly fine with me.

Broken Road

2010-01-16T14:27:00.002-05:00

At 10:55 am Friday I locked and closed my office door while my heart skipped happily ahead. After a quick lunch and a few errands I made my way to the theatre to see “The Lovely Bones” alone. Yes, alone and I was grateful for it. In the past year I have only seen a few movies in the theatre because I haven’t wanted to leave Duc with a sitter. Since I met Michael 5 years ago I have rarely seen a movie alone because our tastes usually align.

Anyway, I arrived at the theatre and settled in to my favorite section. As I said in my last post “The Lovely Bones” is my favorite book and until early 2008 I have read it at least once a year since it came out in 2002. I remember at the time wishing they would never make this book into a movie, and yet, here I was on opening day. Alice Sebold’s prose is so simple, but so achingly beautifully written. In a single sentence she breaks my heart and heals my soul. I remember the first time I read it I called my mom and said, “I think she has been raped. I think something horrible happened to her” because I could feel her writing from a broken area in her heart. While she did not delve into details of the rape in the book (the movie didn’t draw attention to it at all—THANK GOD) there was something about the way she wrote about the impact of it that I knew she must have intimate knowledge of the hole it creates. A few years later she wrote her biography “Lucky” which she details her story and as I suspected, she had been raped.

I stupidly forgot to repack my Kleenex supply. Of course I cried, it was inevitable. The last time I read the story I read it seeing it through the eyes of Susie. I felt the aching loss of her family that began moving on with life without her in it. I imagined the trauma and loss a girl of 14 would experience from being cheated on having the life she envisioned. I am reading it again, but I see it now through the eyes of a mother and I think that breaks my heart even more.

For those of you that want to know if I enjoyed the movie, I did. There were a number of departures from the book and in many ways they feel like two different stories, but that didn’t bother much because the heart was still there. The thing that did bother me was the camera motion and the surreal world they created caused some vertigo for me. I have gotten sick in the theatre twice before due to crazy camera movement and this movie really walked a fine line between just enough and serious stomach lurching. Of course, the fact that her best friend in heaven is a Vietnamese-American girl certainly makes me heart sing just a bit more:)

The movie, like the book, caused me to reflect more deeply on things. I thought of Alice Sebold, the author, and how the events of her life forever changed her life. She took what could easily be described as the worst time of her life and turned it into something else, something beautiful. Don’t misunderstand—I am NOT saying what happened to her was a good thing, but I am moved by the peace and beauty she has brought to the world through her writing. Reflecting on her story lead me to reflect on my own and that of my son’s. I thought of all the things I endured in my childhood and how many times I wondered why God chose me to carry this burden—I always believe it was because he thought I was strong enough and because he saw that something beautiful could come from my pain. I remembered back to 4 years ago when I came to a cross roads in my life. I so desperately wanted to be married and have a family. I wanted it more than the air I breathed, but every attempt I made was met with opposition. Each date was worse than the last and the last one scared me so bad I gave up dating. I decided that God had called me to a life of silent solitude. I began to make peace with how my life would be and began to make plans for a life without a family.

A few months later on the eve of my 30th birthday I had dinner with a 50-something single friend of mine. We reflected on life and I asked if she had any regrets. She had been married, but never had children. Her regret was not that she didn’t have children, it was that she was not married to a man she loved. My chest heaved quietly and I was grateful to the darkness of her garden where we were sitting. She would not see the silent tear that I hurriedly pushed away. In that simple question and her revelation I knew that I could live a lifetime without loving another man, but the thought of never having children created a desperate ache within my heart.

Four days later I saw an ad for an adoption seminar that changed my life. No, I never attended that seminar, but I didn’t have to. The seed that had been planted 22 years before finally began to sprout and a love for my then faceless children began to grow.

I am able to look back on the difficulties and personal hardships of my childhood and of the dark final years of my twenties and appreciate where they have brought me. I doubt I would have met Duc had I not had all those hardships and the thought of never knowing him makes my heart ache worse than any torment I have experienced before. I’m still single and I am ok with that. There are times when I miss the companionship that a boyfriend or husband provides, but I am still content. I have my son, I have my family and friends and I live knowing each moment we have together is blessed.

And somewhere in the last year I have finally learned to live in the moment, this moment. Duc has caused me to slow down and I don’t wish away my week while looking towards Friday evening. I don’t want to wish a single second away that I could be spending with my son. I wish I could slow them down and suspend them like helium filled balloons. But that’s why I am a photographer. I am freezing these moments so I can relive them for a lifetime because I know I won’t always remember what it was like when he was 19 months and how he made me laugh so hard.

Oy

2010-01-14T21:52:00.002-05:00

I think this is my favorite photo of Duc so far this year. There is just a sweetness to it (could be the chocolate) and his tongue peeking out just makes this photo all the more fun. I usually use my 50mm lens most, but this is my 85mm lens. I rarely use it even though the images always look nice, but it’s like looking through binoculars. Everything is really really close! I was jammed up again the kitchen cabinets to get this picture. It is a wonderful portrait lens though. I’m already getting the itch for a new lens…it’s an addiction. I would love to have an L series lens, but that would take an entire paycheck or more. Yikes, but I think it would be totally worth it.

It’s been a full week. I worked on Sunday. Got home late and didn’t sleep well. On Monday I was up late trying to get grants written when Duc woke up between 9-10 pm. Nothing I did would comfort him. He just laid in there crying and I can’t handle my baby crying! He has never much of a crier so I’m not going to listen to it…so I got him up. He was finally happy as a clam, playing in the living room while I worked on leaning against me watching me type. Should I mentioned this was well past midnight? Yeah, fun night.

I’m getting off early tomorrow—yay! I guess I should since I worked on Sunday. I’m looking forward to getting the house cleaned. This place goes to hell pretty quick. Or, I just had a good idea…maybe I will watch a movie! All by myself on a Friday afternoon! I’m thinking of seeing “The Lovely Bones”. It has been my favorite book for a long while and I usually read it once a year. It is hauntingly beautiful, but makes my heart ache for a few days after finishing it.

This is why I rarely put a bib on Duc. What you can’t see is that the yogurt is ALL over him. From his head down to his lap.

This was last during the time that he should have been in bed. Once again, he fussed once I put him down even though I know he had to be tired.

Amazed

2010-01-10T22:39:00.002-05:00

I sometimes forget how amazing my son is. I am not talking about the he's-amazing-because-he's-my-son-and-everything-he-does-is-amazing. I'm talking about, wow, he takes my breath away. He just has an amazing way with people and I have forgotten his charm and his charisma and his ability to make every person feel like they are the only one he's interested in.

Today I had to work and I explained to my co-workers that daycare is not open on the weekends and Duc would be working with me. To be honest, the prospect of it freaked me out. I hoped he would be good, or, if he was going to be bad I hoped that people would feel pity on me and I would leave early. No such luck. I didn't leave until 9 pm and Duc was with me the entire time.

I had to work in the ED today. The ED was filled over capacity with patients and we had ED physicians, NPs, PAs, consulting physicians, nurses, techs, EMTs, radiology techs and everybody racing this way and that. As soon as Duc would approach them I would watch their faces change. People he had never met and people who had never met him were suddenly carrying on a conversation with him and time and time again I saw them pick him up and walk around with him. He even approached a physician known for his incredibly unhappy disposition and talked to him. And the doctor talked back. And smiled.

The patients filled the halls because we were so busy. Sick, sick people waiting for beds upstairs or waiting to feel better. Duc would approach them and talk to them. He would laugh and throw his head back as though what they said was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Patients would hear him from their rooms and call for him to come closer. I saw these horribly sick people relax and smile for a few minutes out of their horrible day. They told me about their children or grandchildren or how beautiful and sweet Duc's laugh was.

I've always known he was special. Not because he is my son or because he is adopted. But on days like this I see the beauty of his presence in the world. In my world. In this world that we share with everyone around us--strangers and friends alike. And I am thankful. As one of the patients said, "You are lucky to have each other. God knew exactly what he was doing when he made you a family".

I couldn't agree more.

Snow Day

2010-01-08T23:17:00.002-05:00

Duc, nor I, are all that interested in snow. It snowed a couple of inches last weekend and we spent all of 3 minutes outside before Duc had decided enough was enough. On Thursday morning the snow started and I knew it wasn’t going to let up. It was a relief to send off some emails and call the daycare and settle in for the day. We had a lot of time to listen to music and act silly. We banged on drums, rolled around on the floor and huddled close to stay warm.

Oh, and I took a lot of photos.

And, yes, that is my reflection in the Christmas tree ball. You can see my favorite pair of polka dot jammies:)

Rest assured, that is an empty bill bottle. I usually add coins or buttons and glue the lid short. Even after a year of this game, he is still very entertained.

Lucky Charm

2010-01-05T22:55:00.002-05:00

I often tell people that Duc has blessed my life. But isn’t just that he blessed my life simply by being in it, he has become a sort of “lucky charm”. We keep falling into good things and while I realize that some of this is of my own making and is certainly built on my available skill set, it never happened to me before him. Some of it is because his presence in my life has brought me considerable joy and I am more relaxed in more areas of my life. But I suspect much of my fortunate is actually Duc.

Late last year the local newspaper began a photography contest for amateurs and professionals alike. Since it was in the environmental section of the newspaper (I live in a very “green” town) and they wanted to highlight the environment and it had to be photographed in 2009 and in the state of Indiana. As you know, I take zillions of photos of Duc, but NONE of my photos really fit the criteria. So I submitted this photo:

I received an email yesterday notifying me that I had won. You can’t even imagine how surprised I was that I had won. As I expressed surprise to one of the judges today he said “cute certainly doesn’t hurt”. Yeah, Duc is cute. We won a few small gifts and his photo will be blown up and prominently displayed in Friday’s paper. Pretty darn cool. They asked for some bio info on both of us and I included some cute things about Duc and about what I do for a living. In addition, and on a whim, I shared the new photography project I am undertaking. I’m not yet ready to talk specifics, but it is huge. Like really huge. Like, I am looking for funding to support the the project. It will take the entire year and will likely spill over into next year. It is not a “typical” photo job and is completely self-directed. If this actually works it will involve the three biggest passions I have had ever had in my adult life. Huge. Say a prayer, cross fingers, send vibes or whatever else you do but definitely keep this in your thoughts. I’m really excited! When I mentioned my project idea to the newspaper judge she was really excited by the idea (evidently no one has ever heard of anyone pursuing a similar project so yay!) and is going to bounce my project over to a reporter to write a story up on it to draw attention. Hopefully this will bring the necessary participants needed and *hopefully* some funding. Only time will tell.

If any of you have any experiencing for finding grants please contact me!

Oh, and if anyone thinks he is sitting on the potty in the above photo let me assure you he is not! He was sitting on the couch with his feet on the floor. It’s just an odd angle, which I kinda like:)

The one after the last

2010-01-03T20:26:00.002-05:00

Yeah, that’s just the way he rolls. He will have his feet against the table and lean forward to play with his car on the table. He’s far more flexible than me!

We had another great day today. The last couple of weeks have been rough—sometimes I think it is him. He’s stretching physically and he is also stretching to see how far he can take something. He’s been whiny which isn’t his normal self. Other times I think it is just me—I’m tired, he senses I’m tired and have less energy which means he works harder to keep all of my attention. This time I think it is actually related to two things—the holidays and all the crap he was eating. I know people say that sugar doesn’t have any impact on a child’s behavior, but I really think they are wrong. I’ve seen him wound up like top after eating a cookie and he is seriously whiny and cranky afterwards. I think he was also missing sleep due to the holiday excitement. And, honestly, I think he just missed me.

This weekend we’ve had some serious play time and as a result, snuggle time. It has been so awesome! I left briefly yesterday to make a run to the bank and the post office. I finally, with exactly 3 weeks remaining on my current 171-H, mailed off an updated home study and I-600A application. Initially I think I was subconsciously “forgetting” but as the weeks passed it became more of a conscious effort. I even set up reminders with my Outlook email account to force me along, but I just kept putting them off.

The last time I completed this I-600 I was still awaiting Duc’s referral. I was still keyed up and anxious to at least get one of my kids home. Now….I don’t know. I know I want a daughter. If you follow this blog at all you know I want a daughter. This all started with her and my family won’t feel complete without her. I suppose now that I have Duc, and as I have watched China’s referrals slow to a very slow crawl I’ve begun to lose hoping of ever seeing her face. The push to keep moving because there is a hope to a completion of the journey, well, it just isn’t there any more. I feel antsy and unsettled about this. I don’t feel I can give up. I’ve come to far and my heart just hasn’t given up yet. I’m already in line and I will never have the opportunity to adopt from China so I am sticking in it. Even though I am sticking to it it is a challenge to keep the faith and believe I will someday see her face.

And these are for my Dad. Duc loves Opa. Opa loves Duc. Duc watches and copies everything that Opa does. Not always such a good thing, especially when he is showing him his “see food” trick.

He is licking the yogurt off the foil lid of the yogurt cup. Something he learned from watching Opa., Happy, happy, happy boy.

The first one

2010-01-01T22:04:00.002-05:00

Wow, we had a great first day of 2010! I hope this is a good indication of what the rest of the year will be like!

I’m not sure what it was specifically, but being able to sleep until 8 AM made a huge difference. Duc has been waking up at 6 AM lately, but I was able to roll over and go back to sleep, as he did also.

We had a sprinkle of cinnamon ‘n sugar on our toast for breakfast and it was yummy!

I finally got Duc down for a nap around 10:30 and I got busy! Seriously, I got really busy and really organized. I was really impressed! I tend to pile items—on desks, tabletops, even on top of the TV. It is a bad habit, but I have an organization system, but if I don’t have time to follow through I pile so I don’t lose anything. Sounds backward, I realize. Anyway, I managed to clear through a LOT. I think the next time my family or friends visit they will definitely notice. Some of the stuff I uncovered, well, I am embarrassed to admit it was 6-12 months old.

I also had time to read part of a book this morning (yeah, I know, I was really productive!). It’s a photographer who’s work I really enjoy. He actually gets paid by NGOs, like those supporting orphanages and orphan relief, to take photos to draw attention to their cause. His work is amazing and his pictures, even with just one frame, tell a story. Breathtaking, amazing. The book is actually about the business side of photography and identifying and branding yourself. It is forcing me to define what I want to be as a photographer. I thought that would be something I would struggle with, but as I read I realize I already know what kind of photographer I want to be. From the beginning I wanted my photos to actually mean something. Not that taking pictures of families and kids doesn’t mean something—it captures that precise moment when their child was that age and doing whatever cute thing you thought you would remember forever but promptly forgot as soon as s/he did something new. I cherish all the photos I have of Duc and me together. I’ve never liked having my photo taken before, but he has changed all that for me. I have some ideas on how to get moving in that direction, and oddly enough, the logo that Lauren is working on for me rather reflects my personal philosophy. My mom recently made some joke about me “having balls” and I think I am definitely going to have to be brave and step out and do this.

After lunch Duc and I went to Michaels store for some stuff. I had a coupon and a list so I wasn’t leaving without getting everything I wanted. I did pretty good—finally got some frames for some embroidered pieces I bought in Vietnam over a year ago. I am also adding artwork and organizing my kitchen. Several months ago I had a small scale remodel, but I still don’t have all my cabinets painted (which is why I still haven’t added updated photos to facebook). Thankfully my dad recently retired and volunteered to do it so I don’t have to use my non-existent PTO to paint. This is when it is so inconvenient to be a single mom. Normally I would have knocked that out in a weekend, but with Duc it just isn’t possible…unless he isn’t here while I work and I don’t like being away from him any more than I have to.

Duc loves to get down to his diaper right before bath time. He gets so excited, so animated in anticipation of his bath. I can’t believe he thought lying on a cold, hard floor was a good idea though. I remember getting these little wind-up toy cars from my McDonald’s happy meals when I was a kid. Even as I got older I was still overly entertained by them. I have bought 2 of these for Duc now and believe me, I get just as much enjoyment from them as he does.

Happy New Year!

2010-01-01T00:15:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year! New Year’s Eve marks exactly a year ago that Duc and I entered US soil as mother and son. The day he became a US citizen and, the thing I was most excited about, the day he met his family. I am forever grateful to Kelli for getting those homecoming photos of us. Honestly, I hate to think of not having them…take a peek.

How awesome is this photo? We had been up for over 40 hours…no joking. We had all had the same clothes on since two nights before and I had spit up, vomit, (probably some poo), formula and food stuck to my shirt. I smelled like a boy’s locker room, but none of us cared. My family was just so happy to finally meet Duc and as you can see, he enjoyed them just as much.

I rarely ever commit to New Year’s Resolutions. It’s not that I’m not capable of following through with them, I just rarely ever make them. Well, over the last few weeks I’ve decided that this is going to change in ‘10.

Here it is:

I’m going to de-mommify my life a bit.

Does that make sense? For an entire year I devoted every moment to my son. I don’t regret it at all—I needed it just as much as he did but the time has come for me to be a woman again. Honestly, my wardrobe has taken a serious hit. it’s a good day when I go into work without any food food debris on my shirt (courtesy of Duc, of course). It’s rare that I have matching socks on and rarer still that I wear any jewelry (again, thanks to Duc. A number of bracelets and necklaces have been broken due to his quick little hands), and my beautiful lipstick sits unused in my bathroom. In the last year I can count the number of times on one hand that I left home without Duc in tow. On that same hand I can count the number of movies I saw also. Again, I don’t regret this a bit. I work full time and I needed that time with him as much as he needed it.

So here is the plan:

Trade in my mommy bag for something trendy. I can already check this off my list—my mom bought me something quite un-mommified, but still plenty big for both of our things.
At least once a week I am going to wear lipstick. I don’t care if I am going to Kroger, it’s time for mommy to feel like a girl again.
Hit the gym. I actually miss this. I miss the feeling of feeling fit and feeling my body change and mold to what I want. Given the amount of stress I’ve had recently it is beyond necessary that I get back to the gym consistently.
Yoga. Ok, this is actually more part of #3, but whatever. My workplace rewards us for participating in health improvement plans. I can take 7 weeks of yoga for $20. Do you know how cheap this is???? And I can do it right at work, in the very same building Duc has daycare. Whoo hoo!
Sleep. It’s like I am trying to punish myself. Duc generally sleeps well so there is no need for me to stay up late (ok tonight is an exception).
Regular haircuts and brow waxing—at least once a quarter. It just makes me feel like a girl.
Simplify. Do more with less—I need to clean out the closets and just get rid of stuff. I am sentimental so it is hard for me to do. With Duc’s things it is especially hard since I still plan on having another child. I hate to get rid of things I might need later, but most of this stuff was donated to me anyway. I just don’t have the space.
Photography. I have started my own business and for those of you have want the link, leave me a comment and I will send it to you. I’m not sure I’m ready to lose some of my anonymity by linking it to here, but most of you that read I have known for a while.
I want to step up on my photography—take a class and really focus on the business end of things and begin having regular sessions. I’ve had two in the last two weeks and I want that to be consistent.
Every once in a while just do something for me. It doesn’t have to be all day or far away, sometimes I just need to be in nature and get out of my head.
And above all, enjoy every minute with my son. If any of the above items start to have a negative impact on him I will re-think how to do this.

Duc has discovered mama’s shoes.

And since I cheated you out of Christmas photos…

Future?

2009-12-21T22:15:00.003-05:00

If Duc and I had an anthem it would be this song, Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours". As I've said before, I felt Duc presence long before I ever saw his photo or held him and this song became my mantra and every time the lyric "It's our God forsaken right to be loved, loved, loved" played I would tear up. I do prefer his live version because he has since changed it to God-given right which sounds much better.

Well you done done me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted
I fell right through the cracks
Now I'm trying to get back
Before the cool done run out
I'll be giving it my bestest
And nothing's gonna to stop me but divine intervention
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some
But I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait, I'm yours
Well open up your mind and see like me
Open up your plans and damn you're free
Look into your heart and you'll find love love love love
Listen to the music of the moment, maybe sing with me
All - ah peaceful melody
And it's our God-forsaken right to be loved love loved love loved
So I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait I'm sure
There's no need to complicate
Our time is short
This is our fate, I'm yours

Thankfully, Duc loves this song. It was one of the first I played for him and every time he hears it on the radio a peaceful expression takes over his face and he grooves to the music.

I found this video today and I have to admit, the boy looks like an older version of Duc! Given the number of times Duc has heard the song I'm sure he will be able to play it before much longer, AND he will know the words!

“At this very moment one year ago…”

2009-12-18T23:31:00.002-05:00

I have begun many a sentences this week with this opener. It was been such an emotional week for me and I have shared it with family, friends, co-workers and strangers alike. You see, I am extremely grateful for this day. It was exactly 52 weeks ago today that Duc and I became a family (although if you are truly a technical person, we met on December 18th and our adoption was completed on December 19th, but for me, that Friday was it).

Words can not describe how grateful I am. Grateful for the opportunity to be his mother, grateful to the woman who gave birth to him, grateful to Vietnam and the orphanage that took care of him. Grateful.

Friday, December 18, 2008 Making it official at our Giving & Receiving Ceremony

Later at the hotel getting to know each other.

My post from last year:

We arrived last night. Our flight was delayed by over an hour because someone had a late connecting flight. I think Korean Air is the best airline in the world! No kidding–I watched 3 recent released Hollywood movies during the flight and slept the remaining, oh, 18 hours. I also slept last night after getting settled in.

But that isn’t why you are reading, you want baby news, right? Well, at 2:45 pm my life was forever changed. It was quite the experience. We are staying at a really nice resort and less than a mile turned off the road onto some rickety looking lane. We turned once or twice more and drove up to his orphanage. The road leading to his orphanage was very narrow and the road had lots of broken bricks and was very rough. The level of poverty here is unimaginable. It is truly heartbreaking, but that is a post for another time.

We arrived at the orphanage and the very first room we entered is the baby room and his crib was just a few down from the door. When I first found him he was kind of crying and looking upset. As soon as I picked him up everything changed. He put his hands on both sides of my face, patted my cheeks and began smiling and laughing. The moment could not have been more perfect. He is very bright, very alert. He LOVES to be held, loves to cuddle, loves to be tickled. He sits up really well and the nanny attempted to show off his crawling skills by taking the toy I had brought and tossing it 18-24 feet away. The little guy hustled right over to it and picked up his book again! He can push his butt in the air with his feet and hands on the ground. The nanny would show off his balance by standing him up, letting go, and catching him as he began to fall. He will be a little dare baby! He loves to be fake dropped–like a roller coaster. He is very quiet, but if you really get him tickled he will laugh. When the nannies would take him from me or when our guide took him for his passport photo he would reach for me and try to find me. Even when Oma was holding him he seemed to know that I was mama. I’d heard that they know that somehow and always thought it sounded silly, but I am beginning to think that they do indeed know.

It was a beautiful moment, a beautiful day. As I told my mom, he is heaven on earth.

This afternoon my mom and I had a few minutes together as Duc woke up slowly against my shoulder shaking the afternoon sleep off of him. She told me she had watched the local religious station most of the day and several verses stuck out to her. She had plenty of time to reflect on the last year and the miracle of it all. I still view Duc as my miracle child and as I reminded my mother that we were within one DAY of never knowing him. I cried. I can’t NOT cry when I think of how close we were.

About a month ago I ran into a former colleague in the hospital cafe. She, like most people that know our story, asked about him and I was more than happy to share all the great things that he is doing. She smiled at me and said, “every time I ask about him your face just brightens up and you can’t stop smiling.” I hadn’t realized that, but I believe she is right. And there are also many times that my eyes mist with tears as I talk about him because I am ALWAYS aware of how fortunate I am to know him.

Happy one year together, baby. Everyday you are my little piece of heaven on earth.

Boobies

2009-12-14T23:05:00.004-05:00

I’m not sure what other moms do, but bath time always creates a little stress for me. If I shower while he is napping he will wake up early and demand attention. But if I do it while he is awake I have few options:

Shower with him
Place him in a jumperoo that he outgrew many many months ago and hope he doesn’t flip it
Let him wander around my bathroom

Showering with him is a hassle. He wants me to hold him the entire time and as most of you know, wet babies are slicker than snot. We are an accident waiting to happen. Last weekend I left him free to wander the bathroom and you can see the destruction in the picture above. He dumped the trash can’s contents all over the floor.

So, yesterday I put him in the jumperoo and he had to watch me towel off. As I was leaning over he poked my breast and said “boobie!”. Yes, my precocious child learned what boobies are before learning where his nose, ears and eyes are. Needless to say, I taught him about noses, ears and eyes in the event he says it at daycare. I don’t want people thinking it is the only body part he knows!

I don’t often talk about Duc’s development for a number of reasons. I decided long before I became a parent that I was never going to compare him to any other child. I wanted him to be his own person and not feel he needs to stack up to what little Timmy is doing. While I am proud of all his accomplishments, it does not impact me as a person or his mother. These are his accomplishments. Having said all that, I’ve known from the beginning that he was advanced for his age and the longer I am a mother and more I am around children his age or younger I realize just how advanced he is. Developmentally he is at the level of a 3 year-old child which is twice is biological age. Lately it is becoming more and more apparent. I see him around children in his class or with other children and I realize that being locked out of the house (see my last post) is only the tip of the iceberg. I really need to stay ahead of him and I think that will prove challenging to do.

This is an emotional week for me. I can barely comprehend that it has been a year, a year, since Duc entered my life. Fifty-two weeks ago on this very day I was nervously packed. Michael offered to take me to my sister’s house since she lives near the airport we were leaving from. We left earlier than planned because an ice storm had hit and he was worried we wouldn’t be able to get out if we left later. We stopped for lunch at Long John Silver’s (there is a joke there that I’m not going to both explaining, but it has sentimental value to me) and I remember thinking that this would be my last meal out before becoming a mom.

I barely slept that night. We had to be up at 4 am because we had an early flight, but it didn’t matter. I flopped around on my sister’s couch counting the hours. Literally, every hour or so I was refreshing the count in my head. 96 hours…94….82….and so on.

Wow, I never could have pictured this a year ago. I never could have hoped for anyone better than Duc. We have been blessed.

Baby Mama Drama

2009-12-12T23:09:00.003-05:00

I knew when I saw the scene above that we were in trouble. This was on Monday. On Tuesday night he insisted on sleeping with me. In fact, when I finally consented and started to put him in my bed he nearly cheered. You see, we are not one of those families that co-sleep. Before Duc, I was all for it. After I spent our first night co-sleeping in DaNang, and especially when I attempted it once we returned home I knew it was never going to work.

So Tuesday night we co-slept for the first time in nearly a year. He was happy, but it didn’t help his cough and congestion one bit. He didn’t get better and he didn’t get worse.

Until this morning. He woke up screaming. For those of you that don’t know him, Duc is not a screamer or a crier. He screamed and big wet tears slipped down his purplish-red cheeks. He writhed around arching his back and kicking. He wouldn’t let me hold him or comfort him and it brought back the feeling of absolute powerlessness that I first experienced before we left HaNoi and our first few days home before I knew just how sick he was.

I was finally able to pour some Motrin down his throat in between screams and ultimately decided to call the doctor when the screams didn’t abate.

Double ear infections. I suppose we have been lucky that this is the first time he has suffered this. I mentioned to the doctor that we have had to deal with all kinds of funky illnesses that most kids never have or never have this young and now all the routine toddler crap begins.

If this morning wasn’t traumatic enough, this afternoon got worse. Sometimes I marvel at how much Duc has grown and changed and advanced these last few weeks and months. Truly amazing. Until your kid locks you out of the house. I stepped out to retrieve the grill cover that had blown off. I intentionally left the sliding glass door open so Duc could still hear me. When I looked back at the house I discovered he figured out how to get the door shut (it’s a really heavy door! Even I have trouble making sure I get it shut just right to lock it) and locked. I was locked out of the house while wearing only flip-flops, t-shirt and pajama bottoms in 30* weather. No cell phone and no key.

Honestly, I really wanted to cry. I didn’t, but I wanted to. I kept hoping he would figure out how to unlock the door, but no such luck. I went to a few neighbors’ houses and no one was home. I finally went to the neighbor’s house that I often have issues with and I am glad I did. I was able to call Michael and in the meantime my neighbor loaned me her coat and some socks. I went back to the door and stood there talking to Duc. He kept saying “mommy"!” and reaching for me…it was so hard. He went in the other room and gathered his blanky. He came back to the door, laid down with his hand against the door. Michael finally arrived and was able to get me back into the house. I’ve been concerned about Duc getting out, but I never really considered he might lock me out.

(through yet another door)

Friends

2009-12-09T22:36:00.001-05:00

I think this is one of my favorite photos from our day with Aiden and Ellie. You have to keep in mind, the littles had not had naps OR had a lunch. You can imagine how much fun the mommies had! Is it just me or is Aiden a little poser? Looks like he is used to having his picture taken!

I love this picture of Aiden. Look at the sweet expression on his face.

Miss Ellie isn’t too shy either.

I will never get tired of peek-a-boo. This is my favorite game ever!

We had a blast hanging out with our friends, but Duc was totally WOUND up the rest of the day. The little stinker slept for only TWENTY MINUTES the rest of the day.

Hopefully we can get together again really soon ladies and next time I will get my camera out a little bit more!

Sentimental

2009-12-07T23:04:00.002-05:00

I’ve been feeling rather sentimental lately. I have been working on a couple of projects which have kept me from much computer time, and especially from blogging, but they have allowed me some time to reflect on the last year. It was a year ago Thursday that I learned that I finally had travel arrangements. The joy of hearing that was overwhelming. I attached a sign to my door at work with a photo of a jet in flight with a post-it note of how many days remaining until travel. I was so excited and scared and overwhelmed and that feeling didn’t disappear until I finally held my son.

I can’t believe I have been a mother for nearly a year. The things that I thought would make me crazy, haven’t fazed me a bit, and the things I never expected take my breath away. On Friday evening I finally got a night out. Michael and I dropped him off at my friend Laura’s house. I could tell he was unsure. He looked around, the expression on his face tugged at my heart and I told Michael later that if he had cried I would never have been able to leave.

I’ve been looking at photos from last year in Vietnam. It saddens me that it has already been a year because it still feels like yesterday, despite how much he is growing.

This photo was taken the day after our G&R. I will be forever grateful to Chennie for being there that week to record those first moments. I wish we had the opportunity to see her more frequently! When Duc met me for the first time, he placed his chubby little hands on each of my cheeks and held my face and giggled. Those first few days together he would just stare at me and I knew he was memorizing my face, “imprinting” as my mother said. Even now he still holds my face like this when he wants to tell me something important (well, important in his mind, I still can’t understand half of what he says).

Thankful

2009-11-27T23:03:00.003-05:00

I have so many reasons to be thankful this year. Two years ago I had just begun the dossier prep once again and the process was even more arduous than the previous year. Last year, I had a referral for a BIG, beautiful boy and I had finally hit the point where I was miserable from waiting. I was rather patient, really I was. I didn’t stress over it until I learned that our travel was being pushed out and they weren’t sure when we would travel. At that point (around Thanksgiving) I was quite miserable so this Thanksgiving feels remarkably blessed. So, I thought I would spell out what I am thankful for.

A-adoption. Do I need to say more?

B-Becky Fawcett from HelpUsAdopt.org for all she did to make this year so memorable. She gave us a sizeable grant that helped create our family and chose us to tell our story nationally on The Today Show. (see the media tab above if interested in watching our video).

C-Canon. Yep, I love ‘em.

D-Duc. What did you think I was going to write?

E-Early bed times

F-Friends and Family. Thank God.

G-Good times.

H-Health. I love the times that we are healthy and long for it when we aren’t.

I-Icky hands. Seriously, it is gross, but I love it when he reaches for me with food covered fingers.

J-Jerri. AKA Aunt Jerri.

K-Kristen and Catherine for giving us extended family that get it. They truly do.

L-Love

M-My mother.

N-Nap time. For both of us.

O-Oh no! I love it when I hear those words out of his mouth.

P-Pancakes. Honestly, this kid can put them away.

Q-Quiet time. We both need it from time to time.

R-Running naked. Not me. Him. There is a pure joy when he scurries away from me sans diaper and runs shrieking with joy down the hallway with his arms up like you would see among runners crossing the finish line.

S-Spring Rolls. I ate way too many for T-day

T-Time. I cherish the moments we spend together.

U-Unbelievable moments.

V-Vietnam. Forever.

W-Wa-wa. I love to listen to my son ask for water. It makes my heart smile.

X-XOXO

Y-YMCA. I don’t get to visit as often as I want, but when I do I enjoy it and enjoy playing b-ball with my boy.

Z-Zoo time.

And now for some Thanksgiving Day photos!

These are bar chairs. I have to hike myself up to get up on them and yet he will pull himself all the way up in no time at all.

Oh my, I ate way too many spring rolls. Thankfully they are healthy.

A boy’s life

2009-11-22T22:03:00.001-05:00

Last week I visited Wal-Mart (a rarity for good reason) and a woman working at the store sneered at him. So he sneered back and it looked something like this.

Waiting for the pancakes to finish cooking.

Playtime in the window.

And, yes, he is giving you the bird.

Subway. Despite the face he is making he did eat ALL the ham on his sandwich.

Lowe’s. Checking out the overhead fans.

It was a very good day.

A is for Adoption

2009-11-22T20:25:00.007-05:00

Yesterday was National Adoption Day and while I forgot it and did not commemorate it in any way, I did take note of adoption. Actually, it has been on my mind a lot lately since we are coming up on nearly a year as a family. Suddenly, everywhere I look I can see adoption. Just this week I had a photo shoot with an adult trans-racial adoptee, today at Lowe's I met a woman who had two domestically adopted children, and while scouting areas for future I was at an abandoned build site and ran into some people while there. The gentleman asked Duc's ethnicity and I told him he was bi-racial (Vietnamese/Chinese--long story that I haven't gotten around to posting). The man, who appeared to be in late 40s or early, mid-50s volunteered that he was adopted from Korea at age 5.

In my own neighborhood I am surrounded my adoption. My next door neighbor, now a woman in her late 80s has 2 children adopted domestically. A lesbian couple down the road have at least one domestically adopted child, the married couple down the road and the the divorced woman living in the condos a stone's throw away all have adopted children.

Occasionally I will be out around town and I will get a knowing look from another parent and I can see it in their eyes, an unspoken understanding. Something about the way they look at their child or squeeze their shoulder, and I know, they get it. We are all connected.

Berta the Beast

2009-11-21T22:00:00.002-05:00

I’ve felt rather apathetic lately. With my photography, with my work, with my personal appearance. There is nothing wrong at home—Duc and I are as happy (and healthy!) as we have ever been, but something has been off for a while. It wasn’t something I could really put my finger on, no immediate causative agent, but the tide has finally begun to change. Such small things have given way to some significant changes and life, although good before, is beginning to taste even richer.

I’ve known for a while I needed to upgrade my camera. I was planning on waiting until my next tax return since I knew I would be able to take advantage of the tax credit, but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. This has been a big cause of my frustration—I was limited. I had taken my poor little camera as far as I could go. In the last week there have been some things that made me realize I need to upgrade and upgrade NOW. So, I blew the dust off some money I had stashed years ago and used my mad money. And it was worth every single penny.

While I did not win the contest I mentioned in my last post, I did win the free Pro SmugMug account so I will now be able to link this gallery to my photography site and set my prices directly on SmugMug. Honestly, this is an incredible prize and this was yet another reason for me to realize I needed to get my butt in gear. The only thing holding me back (besides outgrowing my camera) was me.

I have been a mother for nearly a year now and while I have LOVED nearly every single minute of it, I know that pieces of me were disappearing, namely the feeling of being a woman. I have been devoted completely and entirely to him and I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I stopped doing my hair, putting on my lipstick and began wearing far more elastic waist pants than I ever would have imagined. So, slowly and gradually I am trying to add pieces back in that make me look good and feel better about myself.

So, life is good and getting better.

And here are some photos I took with Berta (the name of my new camera). These photos are completely untouched—this camera absolutely blow my socks off.

A little mini-session with my youngest niece.

Saige gets really involved with her TV shows.

Duc and Opa sharing a story.

Begging for your vote!

2009-11-16T23:41:00.001-05:00

Ok, normally I consider myself above begging, but not today! I just learned this evening that I am one of 10 finalists that have the opportunity to win free photography website customization AND an online professional gallery to show my clients their photos. I hope you will consider voting for me. You can vote here. My name is Erica and I am listed as #5.

2009-11-16T12:44:00.001-05:00

Last week my mother was over helping out. It wasn’t even 7 pm, but we were all spent and piled on one end of the couch. Duc lay between us, his head in my lap and his feet in her’s. We began to have a conversation that we have had several times before in a number of different variations. Usually it begins wih “can you believe this almost didn’t happened?” with a knowing look in Duc’s direction. No, I can’t imagine never knowing or loving him I often say. My life was good before. I really didn’t feel anything was missing. Until I met him.

This time the conversation began from her perspective. “I would have been ok with not having children or grandchildren. I wouldn’t have known what I was missing. But after you girls arrived and the grandchildren arrived…well, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

She continued, “Your life was fine before Duc, but look at how much joy he has brought this family. He is such a happy, cheerful child. He hasn’t had any attachment issues so far, he bonded easily and quickly with you and is such a joy to be around. I wonder if the other families we traveled with feel the same way we do. I sure hope so.”

As she spoke my eyes teared up and when I opened my mouth to speak my voice cracked with emotion. I began blubbering huge achy tears as I told her that I am grateful to be his mother every single day. He has made me that happy. Even on the days where I feel extremely challenged I still go to bed grateful that I got to be the one he challenged.

I think about how close I came to not being his mother—both the extrinsic and intrinsic factors that almost lead to…well, not this. I thought about how afraid I was to become a mother, especially a single mother, and especially to a son whose gender feels so foreign from my own. I thought about all the external obstacles—money and delays with my dossier. And I thought of the biggest obstacle of all—my faith. Struggling with how I could believe I would receive a referral when so many others had been waiting far longer than I had. I am a big fan of fair and making things as fair as possible and this wasn’t fair. Knowing the day my son was born and where, but marching ever closer to September without knowing if our match would ever come to fruition.

When I heard other parents say it, I never understood how the love could grow deeper and more intensely the longer you mothered your child. I thought love was just love, until I met Duc. I finally understood that my love for him is like a well watered plant. It grows bigger and the roots spread further and deeper with each passing day and week.

Perhaps it is for all these reasons that I find my heart seizing up as I try to picture my life without Duc. Before meeting him it would have been infinitely easier, but now? For me, knowing him for one day was to love him the rest of my days.

I hope I never have to live a day without him in my life. The very thought causes such intense feelings of grief and anxiety I can hardly stand to consider what my life would be like. Maybe that’s because the events that lead to our family were such traumatic times, for both of us. Or perhaps it is a reflection on my own childhood and all the early losses or near losses I suffered. Or, maybe it is simply being a mother. Perhaps my feelings are like so many unspoken rules of motherhood and until you get your entrance ticket stamped you can never understand.

So, I hold my baby every chance I get. Since he has been sick he has been falling asleep much earlier in the evening than he normally does. I’ve carried him in from the car asleep, picked him up off my feet or his blankey a sleep. Instead of putting him down in bed and getting on with my evening, I hold him. I watch his little face relax in a mask of sleep and I savor every minute.

Sunday Morning Traditions

2009-11-15T10:39:00.001-05:00

Apparently we’ve been sick. I say apparently because I thought we were sick, but then we got sicker and I felt like those earlier times were the good ‘ole days. We are both on antibiotics now (first time we’ve ever been on them at the same time) and we are finally feeling better. There were so many things I wanted to post about that I was never able to sit down and type up my thoughts. Too tired, too sick, little one sleeping in the crook of my arm or nestled into my armpit. Not a whole lot of “me” time.

Today we were able to return to some traditions. I love traditions and I look forward to implementing more as Duc gets older and as we (hopefully) gain a sister.

Bringing blankey into the kitchen while he waits for the pancakes to cook.

This would be one of his begging expressions.

So, so close.

Success! Did I mention that Duc loves to dip his food? I figured this out when we were on vacation last month and he dipped a corn dog in chocolate pudding! So, so gross. At least applesauce is healthy.

Happy boy.

Yum.

This would be the charming new talent that Opa taught him on vacation. “See food!” He mushes it up and then tries to stick his tongue out with the food still sticking. Somedays he is more successful than others.

2009-11-02T21:36:00.002-05:00

I remember reading an article that a woman had written about keeping her bedroom, the room she shared with her spouse, kid-free. I remember thinking “how hard can it be?” Now I wonder “why bother?”

When Duc first came home I thought I should keep a space for myself, as if I would lose myself as a woman if I let him take over my space. Before he came home I used to worry about forgetting him in the car or leaving him at daycare after getting off of work.

Funny thing is, I didn’t lose myself in motherhood. I gave myself up freely. And I haven’t left him in the car or forgotten him anywhere. I’m happy when I am with him and I miss him when he is gone. He has left his dirty fingerprints all over my house and all over my soul. He is the best medicine I could have ever hoped for.

Yesterday I didn’t get off work until 7 am when I was supposed to get off at 3 am. I hadn’t slept in over 24hrs, and this was after several nights of fitful sleep. When I finally woke up yesterday I felt like hell. I was beyond grumpy and my whole body hurt. Mom returned Duc around 4:30 pm and the little things began to upset me to the point that I actually thought I was going to cry. I excused myself so I could spend a couple of minutes of quiet time in my room. I looked around my bedroom and the evidence of him was everywhere. A clean sock stuck to my bedspread (I had found it stuck to my butt on the inside of my pants the day before), a pacifier on the floor, a wayward toy tucked into one of my shoes and within a few minutes I heard a little giggle and a rustling at the door.

He wasn’t trying to make me feel better. He just did. And I don’t mind the little fingerprints or the trail of toddler debris that he left throughout my room.

And on his 500th day…

2009-11-01T06:36:00.000-05:00

Duc discovered the word NO. To be clear, this is actually his impersonation of a kid in his daycare class. It absolutely cracks me up!

And a little video tutorial and how we say NO.

Miss you

2009-10-31T23:22:00.001-04:00

I miss my baby. I have to work tonight and I obviously couldn’t leave my baby unattended or take him to work with me for a couple of hours (daylight savings time is a real bear) so Oma and Opa have him for the night and most of tomorrow. It feels odd to be in our home—a home that he fills up with his presence. It feels strangely empty in here. I don’t think I have have been home when he hasn’t also been here.

We didn’t have the opportunity to trick or treat tonight, but Duc did dress up!

He is a dragon…or a dinosaur. I can’t quite figure it out.

I love that dimple.

Even a dragon/dinosaur needs a lift every once in a while.

Boy Joy

2009-10-30T23:04:00.003-04:00

Growing up if you had asked me if I had wanted to have boys or girls I would have told you, two girls and one boy. As a woman I can’t help but desire to have a daughter. I look forward to tea parties with dolls, hair braiding and tutus. Oh, how I want to see tutus! Why one boy? Why not? I don’t have any brothers and we didn’t live close to my male cousins. Boys were (and still mostly are) completely foreign to me, but I am learning. I am not one of the women that my mother frequently laments about hating my own gender and wanting only boys. Personally, I have never understood how a woman wouldn’t want to have a daughter.

But I have learned a lot about boys in the last year, well, at least this boy. I know all his tickle spots and I know that if I look at him just right he will begin to giggle uncontrollably. I know that when he gives me a particular impish smile I know he is about to do something extremely naughty and extremely funny. Tonight he laid on the couch, head in my lap as I caressed his head. I knew he was almost asleep. I could feel his body relax and his breathing began to slow. Until I began to giggle and his little head began to bounce up and down on my round belly. I couldn’t help myself, I was just so tickled and a few seconds later Duc began laughing too. He rolled his little head back so he could look at my face while he laughed, but he laughed. And the beauty of it brought tears to my eyes and we laughed some more.

While Duc and I bonded and attached surprisingly easy and fast, I have noticed a change in the last few weeks. It seems deeper and more intimate. A few years ago I used to dream of the day when I had a son or daughter that would lay the length of my body as we sat on the couch and played or rested. Since Duc and I have both been under the weather lately we have had much more couch time. He has developed a few new games while we lay here coughing. But in the last hour of the day he crawls up into my lap and lays his head in my lap or against my arm and we just enjoy being close. The little boy that was too busy for hugs now enjoys a long hug and the promise of a kiss-kiss. And last week while wrestling he feel asleep in the crook of my legs and I remembered the dream that I once had. The moment had finally arrived and it was incredible.

These days I don’t fear boys. In fact, when a friend called me this morning to share her good news I wished her a boy.

Life Is Good

2009-10-23T22:51:00.003-04:00

The picture says it all.

Sometimes the stress of the daily grind overwhelms to the point that I fail to recognize the severity of its impact. Some days my head feels light and my stomach feels tight and the only good time of my day is the time I spend with my son.

So, Duc and I enjoyed our first family vacation in the Smoky Mountains. I didn’t have internet access while I was there and I rarely had cellular service which is why I opted to turn off my phone on our second day. To be honest, this was a very good thing even if I will be catching up on emails for weeks. The last time I had the opportunity to spend this much quality time with my son was when I was still on maternity leave and that was over six months ago!

So we stopped time, left town and enjoyed each other. Enjoyed being with my sister and her family, my parents. Enjoyed being away from bills and work and reality.

Ah, life is good. And now we are back feeling semi-rested (Duc does not sleep well away from home) after relaxing for a week.

See you next year mountains!