Blue Nee-Nee II

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

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

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

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

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

Resilient

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

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.