This week we received word that we are officially registered in your country of birth. We are now officially waiting. Expecting. For several weeks already, in fact. We were told that we were registered as of August 5. I feel like I did when I learned I was pregnant – like something amazing was going on for quite some time without my knowledge, a secret miracle.

Because, as I’ve said before, sweet child, I may not carry you in my body, but I carry you in my heart. At the risk of sounding overly sappy or romanticizing the waiting process, I am finding my thoughts and emotions very similar to when I was pregnant with your brother and sister. You are always there in the back of my mind, a possibility hovering in the mist.

Whenever I imagine the future you are always in the picture. When I think of Christmases and family holidays and going to the park and out for dinner and the first day of school and so many every day things, I think of you and how you will fit into us. Every time I pack up another bag of your sister’s clothes I think of you and imagine dressing you in them some day, deciding which precious items I will keep for you. When I sort through toys that are no longer used I picture you using them. I speculate about what you will like and what your personality will be, how you get along with Avery and Kieran, and just what it will be like when you are finally here, a part of us. No matter which way a child comes to you, expecting is basically the same. Anticipation. Imagination. Hope. Joy.

Love,
Mommy

PS-This is us, waiting for you to come home.

I have to admit something. No, not admit. I must acknowledge something. Something I’ve been trying to deny for some time. But I can deny it no longer. The facts have become too blatant to ignore. It’s staring me right in the face on an almost daily basis.

My daughter is an inappropriate laugher.

You know the type. I bet there are even a few of you reading this right now who knowing exactly what I’m talking about. People who, despite their good intentions or futile attempts at self-control, start to chuckle, chortle, giggle, snicker, guffaw or otherwise cackle during intense and completely inappropriate moments. For some inappropriate laughers it’s solemn occasions such as funerals, graduations, or religious services. The somber atmosphere combined with nervous tension seems to breed giggling. For others it’s awkward conversations. When debating or arguing they simply dissolve into laughter.

For my daughter, it’s scolding. Whenever she catches it for misbehaviour her eyes get wide and she attempts to look appropriately contrite, but before we know it she bursts into giggles, accompanied by a half crazed, half horrified look that says she knows her laughter is inappropriate but she can’t control it.

It’s really hard to give a kid heck when they are laughing uncontrollably.

I guess there are worse qualities for a person to possess. Here’s hoping she outgrows it before the first time she gets caught passing a note in class!

Ballerino Nate by Kimberly Bradley: There are plenty of books about ballet and dancing and pink and glitter and tutus and every single one of them is for and about girls.  As the parent of a little boy who takes ballet I was excited to find this book on the shelves of my local library. My son has never expressed any concerns that ballet is just for girls or that taking ballet somehow makes him girly, however reading this book just reinforced for him that dancing is for everyone and that he should be proud to dance. This book features a boy who loves to dance but is worried that taking ballet lessons will mean he has to wear dresses and pink shoes like a girl and his older brother who, in the stereotypical manner, teases him for wanting to dance.  My son loved reading this story and I loved reading a story that shows my kids that everyone can enjoy dancing and no one should feel ashamed to do what they love. Also, I learned that a Ballerino is the male version of a Ballerina. Did you know that? I didn’t!

Room on the Broom by Julia Donaldson: I’ve featured books by Julia Donaldson before. I love her books. The stories are quirky and the rhyme is well-crafted and they are always popular in our house. This one was a major winner. The cute story of a witch who keeps losing parts of her costume and when she lands her broom to retrieve them, picks up extra passengers. The last page features a sweet-looking ride that my son never failed to say he wished we had in our closet!

Minnie’s Diner by Dayle Ann Dodds: This book is a fun to read that teaches kids about math concepts as family members enter a diner and order twice as much as the “brother before”. My kids wanted me to read it to them over and over. I’m pretty sure Dayle Ann Dodds has written other books and I’m going to be looking for them next time I’m at the library.

How to Raise Mom and Dad by Josh Lerman: Any book that features some kind of role reversal is usually a hit at my house. In How to Raise Mom and Dad a little girl instructs her younger brother (my kids immediately latched on as this is the structure of our family, too) in the proper training of their parents. Particularly funny was the scene where she reminds her brother to splash the water out of the tub as this will help keep the floor clean and mom and dad won’t have to clean it and running around naked after the bath keeps them from having to dirty a towel to dry you off. This could have been our bathroom any night of the week.

Mary and the Mouse, The Mouse and Mary by Beverly Donofrio and Barbara McClintock: I can’t really tell you why I like this book. The story is not at all complex but is somehow still engaging and I love the whimsical idea of a little girl and a little mouse living life side by side and never really interacting but being aware of each other and the way their lives are intertwined. It feels like a book that has been around for generations but it’s only a couple years old. A darling read.

A isn’t for Fox: An Isn’t Alphabet by Wendy Ulmer: A twist on the classic Alphabet book. We love the anti-alphabet book around here.

White is for Blueberry by George Shannon: As above, a twist on the classic colour book. A simple read but my kids love trying to figure out how white could possibly apply to blueberries and every other colour surprise.

It’s Not Fair by Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Tom Lichtenheld: This was another library find that I just enjoyed – maybe more than my kids – because it pointed out that life isn’t fair. I guess I hoped maybe it would remind my kids that when the whine constantly about who has what and who went first and who got more that it really doesn’t mean anything and in the end we need to get the hell over it. Only it says that in a more kid-friendly way.

Alternative ABCs by Dave Parmley and Eric Ruffing: Alternative ABCs is a board book and while we are no longer in the board book stage around here I did recently purchase this book as a baby gift and I absolutely love it. It’s way more fun than your standard baby ABCs where V is for vegetarian and S is for skull and G is for graffiti.  I think it is a great way to branch away from the obvious A is for Apple.

The Day the Babies Crawled Away by Peggy Rathmann: This charming book has intriguing illustrations that are all done as silhouettes. The story of babies who are crawling away from their adults and only a young child who chases them to save them from certain peril is captured perfectly in this unique illustration style. You will enjoy reading this one, I guarantee it!

People by Peter Spier: I love this book. Can I say how much I love it? I love that it is sold at the Ten Thousand Villages MCC store by peace-loving, tolerance promoting, globally aware Mennonites. I love that it illustrates the many ways people in this world live. I love that it talks about different religions, cultural traditions, languages, homes, dress, games, skin colours and the many other ways people are different. I love that it also talks about the many ways we are the same. I love that it does so in a way that neither judges or condemns any kind of religious or cultural practice and points out one of the most important ideas that I believe makes healthy and fair-minded people, which is: If you were looking at yourself from the perspective of a different culture, you would look as funny as many of these people may seem to you right now. In other words, let’s all try and practice seeing the world from another person’s perspective. Wouldn’t that make the world a different place if we all tried that more frequently? I love this book. And my kids love it too. It is totally simple but it teaches incredibly important lessons. My kids love seeing the different ways people dress and talk and live their lives around the world.

If the World Were a Village by David J. Smith: I’m not sure my kids are quite old enough to understand the complete message of this book yet, but they still found it interesting. It illustrates the statistics of the world by shrinking it down to the size of a 100 person village. In that 100 person village, how many would be Asian? How many would be Muslim? How many would own cars? How many would have clean water to drink? It’s a very interesting perspective on the world and it really hits home that the way we live is not at all the global “norm”. Definitely an educational and interesting read.

Children Around the World by Donata Montanari: This is a great book for young children, introducing them to a number of fictional children from different countries around the world. Each child tells the reader some very simple facts about their life including the types of food they eat, where they go to school, what they do for fun, what kind of a family they have and what kinds of activities are part of a normal day for them. The illustrations are beautiful and interesting and my kids find it intriguing

Children Just Like Me by Barnabas Kindersley: This one has been around for a while already but it is such a fantastic way for kids to learn about different cultures. This book is less a “storybook” and more the type of book you sit down with and just flip through for a while and come back to again later. It is much longer and much more detailed than some of the other books I mentioned above. It is better for children who are a bit older and capable of reading on their own. My six year old likes to look through it although sometimes her attention is distracted after a few pages. The book covers several countries in each continent, one by one. The author actually travelled around the world, meeting and interviewing the children photographed in the story and just reading his own thoughts on the experience is fascinating. You see photographs of where the children live, go to school, the kinds of clothes they where, what they hope to do when they grow up, what kinds of pets they have, what games they play, what chores they do. It is a very thorough look into each child’s life in a very small amount of space. You could come back to this book one hundred times and find something new and interesting every time.

As you can see, we have been trying to expand our children’s view of the world by reading more books about people around the world and how they live. I read not too long ago that it is not enough to simply not express racism or prejudice.  We need to actually spend time educating our children about the different kinds of people they will meet in the world. It is not enough to NOT say “People with _____ skin are bad.” We must also tell them “All kinds of skin are beautiful.  There are many different colours of people but we all have the same kinds of feelings inside.” So that is part of why we have been on the recent kick. Of course we have the adoption to think of. Eventually our children will have a sibling who may have a different skin colour from them and so we are trying to find ways to expose them to differences. Since we live in a predominantly white part of the world, and a less culturally diverse city than many, we are doing what we can with books. Isn’t the library fantastic?

I hope this has been moderately interesting for you guys. If you have kids, hopefully you have seen one or two books you can consider checking out of your own local library. Enjoy!

*I realize she isn’t that high. This is a recreation of actual events and she is only as high as I would let her climb for the purposes of a blog post photo. In reality, my kid was about her body’s length from the flag when I was alerted to the situation. OMG!

Some people insist on signing their children up for swimming lessons at outdoor pools. And those people are almost always the people whose children are the biggest babies ever when it comes to getting wet in the rain or being cold or are just plain anxious in the water.

Some people fret over the weather forecast for days before swimming lessons start, checking them every hour for days with a fervour normally reserved for outdoor parties or holidays. And when they realize that it really and truly is going to pour on Day 1 of swimming lessons they try to talk to their children before swimming to prepare them for the expected inclement weather and to help them approach this as fun! and exciting! and an adventure! rather than with weeping and gnashing of chattering teeth and rending of garments.

Some people might feel slightly less bad when they get to swimming lessons and see many other children looking just a hair less than completely miserable and parents looking frazzled and glassy-eyed and praying that this won’t be a complete disaster.

Some people might imagine their children getting worked up as it sinks in that they will be going out into the rain in 14 degree weather with very little on in the way of clothing. They might picture the freak-out that will follow as they actually venture out into that rain with a teacher who is just barely out of high school and knows precisely nothing about young children and the anticipation of trying to comfort a wet, crying child while still remaining firm and positive and convincing them to go back out and try again might cause them to begin to hyperventilate.

Some people might be more than a little shocked when the whole thing goes off without a hitch despite poor conditions and especially dumbfounded when their children proclaim their excitement at coming back again tomorrow!

Not that it happened to me. I’m just saying, some peoples’ kids are probably the type to have a total fit on a sunny hot day, instead of a cold, rainy one.

But really, you guys need to see these!

This is meant to be Batman. During her brother’s recent Batman obsession Avery began drawing pictures of the beloved superhero for her brother. The hubby has taken to calling him Captain Cannabis as the emblem on his chest almost always comes out looking more like a marijuana leaf than a bat. No wonder Batman isn’t ashamed to be seen in public in satin underpants and a plastic utility belt! A lot of things seem logical when you are high as a kite!

Awwww…a child’s tribute to diversity! Isn’t that touching? We are all different in our world. That is, where different means we all carry Canadian (Cannabis, again) flags and are blond and blue-eyed. Well, I guess the fellow on the left is a little different – he only has one eye. We need to accept all kinds of lifestyle choices, people!

Nothing says Teacher appreciation like “You are the #1 best teacher I’ve ever had! At least, so far. I mean I’m only in grade 1 so it could get better than you. But you were really the best of the two teachers I’ve had so far!”

I find this picture extremely disturbing and I can’t really put my finger on the reason. Perhaps the overwhelming need of all these inanimate objects to introduce themselves. Or the inherent irrationality of introducing themselves as what they are? It’s like me saying “Hi! I am woman!” A little off, no?

This picture hung happily on our fridge for quite some time before a family friend was over and ruined it by asking if our daughter had drawn Buzz Lightyear in an anatomically correct way? I’m almost certain the – erm-object on Buzz’ belt is meant to be a tiny rocket ship. But it certainly does look somewhat…inappropriate, doesn’t it? Also, Buzz appears to have a caterpillar for a nose. And Jessie has something questionable going on in her belt-buckle region as well. Oh. My.

“Some day I’d like to…”

“Some day I won’t…”

“Some day I’ll go…”

“Some day I’ll try…”

For many of us “someday” can become a cop-out, a way to put off trying.  Of course, I never procrastinate am just as guilty of putting off my somedays as anyone else. If you, like me, need a little guidance in finding a way to achieve your goals then let me introduce you to Defining Someday:

Last year I had the privilege of editing the manuscript for this book, written by my friend Danielle Voisin. It was a huge honour to be involved in the process and by giving me the opportunity to edit her book, Danielle helped me achieve one of my own Someday goals!

Danielle is one of the most driven, enthusiastic, and inspiring young women I’ve ever met. She is fearless and her success is entirely due to her careful planning and systematic approach to achieving her goals. I’m not going to lie, she is one very determined lady, but her process is very concise and lucky for all of us, she is sharing her method with us in her new book!

Defining Someday is all about not putting off your dreams for “someday” in the future but overcoming the obstacles that are stopping you from achieving them, whether they are in your head, your bank account, or your plan. This book helps the reader to fully define their “someday” goals and develop a plan to make them happen.

If you are anything like me, then the idea of self-help literature is not necessarily up your alley. The best thing about Defining Someday is it’s written in the format of novel with a main character who is struggling through his own personal goal-achievement crisis. It is about a hundred times more relatable than any other book you’ve read in this genre and you aren’t going to want to miss reading it!

You can purchase the book in both electronic and print versions on Danielle’s website. You should also check out her blog, also entitled Defining Someday, which is full of helpful hints for pushing on to make your dreams a reality. I promise you won’t be disappointed! This is one author who practices what she preaches. You can even read Danielle’s own “Someday List” where she tracks her goals and her progress towards achieving them. If you’re looking for inspiration and a little direction then this book is for you. By the time you get to the last page you will be ready and equipped to go out and conquer the world! Off you go now!

In the last week you learned to ride your bike without training wheels. I can’t tell you how proud I was to see you finally get the hang of it. You’ve been working on it for a couple of summers now and there was more than one day when you cried in frustration and at least one day when you insisted you would never be able to do it. So when you were finally able to get going on that bike the victory in your face was pure joy for both of us. I’m not ashamed to say I shed a tear or too when you finally got it.

Every day you take another step away from me. You began by riding your bike up and down the sidewalk in front of our house and the house next door.  You soon graduated to going up and down the sidewalk the full length of the street. But before long that wasn’t far enough. You began to beg to go around the block alone. This is something we’ve never let you do for several reasons. First, your sense of direction is not yet that great. Second, we live on a fairly large, and not exactly rectangular block. Third, the last time I walked around the block with you allowing you to “lead the way” you would have made half a dozen wrong turns and ended up somewhere across the river if I hadn’t been there to keep you on the right path. But, after biking around the block with Daddy once, I finally relented and gave my permission for you to go around the block by yourself. Once.

Every day you take another step away from me. In a few minutes you were back and breathless and triumphant. “I didn’t fall once!” you told me excitedly. “Can I go again?” So you went again. And again. And again and again and again. The next day you went at it again. Yesterday you must have gone around the block 25 or 30 times.

Every day you take another step away from me. Independence is addictive. You are now hooked on the sweet taste of freedom and I would be a fool not to recognize that there is no turning back. I thought walking was independence. Then I thought being potty-trained was independence. And then I thought starting school was really truly independence because you would be off all day doing things without me. But this really feels like IT. For the first time you can take yourself places under your own power. Of course we have rules about where and when you can take off but suddenly this whole new world has opened up to you and there’s no going back and you are stepping away from me again.

This independence thing is hard for me. As much as I want to always keep you within eyesight I am forcing myself to keep practicing letting you go because the satisfaction and pride in your eyes when you succeed feels marginally better than wrapping you in bubble wrap and holding you close to keep you from getting hurt. But I’m not going to lie, I am not loving this.

Every day you take another step away from me and even though I don’t like it and I want to keep you close, I couldn’t be prouder when I watch you go. I love you sweet girl.

Love,
Mommy

Nonetheless, we did feel like we were starting to make a bit of progress in the War On Ants before the floods came upon us so we’re hoping that if we keep up with the 14 different ant-killing methods we were using that we will be able to reclaim our yard for the good guys (that would be us).

We managed to successfully pull off Kieran’s birthday party this weekend which was stressing me out because I had wanted to have it outside and normally you can depend on relative warmth and excessive sunshine in June in the prairies. Alas, it was not to be. With a forecast of nothing but rain for the foreseeable future I was able to accept that we would not be partying outside this year and I got my papier mache on. I made pinatas!

And I don’t mind saying they were a tremendous success! We used the pinata loot as goodie bag fillers so the kids all collected their own treats after each one broke. Because the pinatas were very nearly free to make I was able to spend money on buying good candy instead of that crappy pinata candy that you can buy at stores. They were absolutely perfect for the age of kids we had, not breaking too easily but also not being so hard that a 4 year old couldn’t possibly break it open.

Let me tell you, you haven’t know fear unless you’re a man standing on chair and holding a pinata while a number of four year boys swings a plastic bat directly at your junk as hard as they can.

The hubby is very brave.

This year the request was for a Batman cake and after searching out a simple idea for a Batman themed cake I was fairly happy with the outcome:

Please ignore the rather wobbly outlines of the cityscape. I bought super strength icing colour to get the perfect royal blue and black colour. This was the result:

And if that’s what it did to their tongues then you can imagine why it was no surprise when we woke up the next morning to our son yelling excitedly “MOM! DAD! COME AND LOOK! MY POOP IS BLUE!!!!“. Excellent.

But what I’d really like to know is how my baby…

…became a Batman-costume-wearing, mini-golf-playing, bike-riding, joke-telling, sweet, beautiful boy?

Oh and here we are again! Two weeks! Oops!

I’ve been doing stuff. Nothing important or worth mentioning except this: I’m waging war on ants. Not all the ants of the world or even in my city. Just my yard.

Problem is, the ants are badass. There are so many anthills in my yard you can no longer see the grass. Which would be bad except that our grass is 50% weeds and 50% dead. Details.

We’ve never had the misfortune of moving into a home with a really awful lawn before. And the truth is, the lawn at our current home wasn’t bad when we moved in last fall. I suspect our rampant neglect of the outside (in favour of the renos going on inside) last fall contributed to the severe decline of the lawn. Unfortunately we are now paying the price. I believe the ants have been sent to punish us for our poor citizenship. Maybe the neighbours are secretly planting them in our yard at night.

I know y’all are just chomping at the bit to give me your solutions for ant troubles. Borax! Cinnamon! Cream of Wheat! Baking powder! Cornmeal! Diatomaceous Earth! Cayenne Pepper! Sugar solutions with bait! I’m telling you I’ve heard enough suggestions to last me a lifetime and I suspect many of them do work, at least on a small scale. But I’m telling you what is taking place in my yard is Antageddon. The Antpocalypse, if you will. We are looking for extermination, not just pest control here.

After spreading a full gallon of diatomaceous earth on my yard today (well, most of my yard – it wasn’t ENOUGH to get quite all of the yard, if you can believe it) I came to the conclusion the only real solution here is full scale chemical warfare. I’m torn as to whether or not we should bother with attempting it myself or calling in the professionals. But something is going to happen and soon. I don’t care what it takes! I’m ready for the insect smackdown to commence.

Those little bastards are going to see who’s in charge around here.

Aren’t you so glad I took some time to post? I know. Worth. Every. Second.

Some day I hope you have a child just like you. Generous, sensitive, caring, easy-going, constantly smiling and with a heart bigger than you thought possible. And who eats his or her dinner just slightly slower than the pace of a glacier.

I hope some day you will understand just how far past my wit’s end I was the other night when I took your dinner away (after numerous warnings) and got you into your pajamas and sent you to bed without more than a bite of dinner.

I know you won’t starve missing out on one meal. In fact, missing dinner tonight is not much different than any other night only we didn’t fight over it as long. Supper has always been the bane of your existence and frankly, I’m at a loss to understand why. After the way you run around all day you should be ravenous. But unless dinner consists of cheeseburgers or pizza you’re pretty much willing to forgo the whole fuss. Tonight I’d had enough and decided that a simple bribe or a missed dessert just isn’t going to cut it anymore. I warned you that the consequence of not eating was going to be an immediate bed-time and you called my bluff.

So when I picked you up from the table and brought you upstairs the tears started to flow immediately. You knew I meant it and you weren’t happy. You wailed while I put on your pajamas. You howled while I brushed your teeth. You sobbed as I tucked you into bed. You repeatedly broke my heart with “I wish this wasn’t happening!!!”. Me too, buddy. Me too.

They say people show who they are in a crisis. While going to bed without supper isn’t a natural disaster or unexpected tragedy, it is about as serious as things get for a privileged North American little boy. You showed me who you are tonight. Because even though you were devastated you never once kicked or fought or yelled. You didn’t try to hurt me or run away from me. You didn’t say “I hate you”.  If you had, you wouldn’t have been the first three, almost four-year-old to do so.

You reminded me that you are a gentle, sweet boy who wants to be good. You crave attention and approval like any little three year old but you rarely stoop to misbehaviour to achieve it.  You never resort to nastiness. Silliness maybe, but you are never mean. And most of the time you succeed at being “good”. But the fact that you are good, even when you are being disciplined says a lot about your character, buddy.

I hope some day you have a child just like you who shows you their amazing capacity for unconditional love like you did when I came in to try and settle you down. Your utter despair turned to acceptance and tears to snuggles and I just couldn’t have been more proud of you. Not even today when you announced yourself Kieran the Superhero Worm Rescuer!  You are a good boy.

I love you baby.

Love,
Mommy

But if it’s got to look like this, at least I’ve got a cheery face to keep me from throwing myself off the nearest bridge. Spring in the prairies, is as it always was. Fickle!

We’ve been keeping ourselves entertained with a stack of new-to-us books from a big used book sale in the city. We were able to pick up several that looked brand new and one in particular that I’ve mentioned here before. M is for Mischief has been read at least a dozen times in the past few days and I expect we won’t be done with it for some time to come. In a perfect demonstration of my children’s different personalities, Avery loses her mind when we insert her name into the text. “Angry Abby Avery’s apt to argue…”, somehow missing the irony of her complete meltdown at the suggestion that she is “angry”. Which only makes us laugh harder and continue to torment her. Kieran is thrilled at the “K” page about “Kicking Kenny Kieran”. Which means we spend very little time on it. Because it’s no fun if it doesn’t tick them off.

We’re awesome parents, aren’t we?

Ok, one more little thing I wanted to write down before I forget it forever. Today Avery was trying to tell me about a form from school that was “due” tomorrow but she kept saying it was “doomed” tomorrow. You know mom? Doomed? And I kept saying “Due? What is due?” and she would reply with an increasingly frustrated “NOOOO! DOOOOOMED!” until we were repeating a perfect Who’s on First routine only my daughter was in tears over her mother’s unfortunate stupidity. I think we’ve worked it out.

She’s just like me. Stupid people drive her crazy.

This week we handed our enormous stack of paperwork off to our social worker to be sent off to one government office and then an adoption agency, and then to your country for translation and eventually to the government of your country and then to the bottom of a pile somewhere. This marks the beginning of our long wait.

We have just finished wading through the madness of homestudies, documentation, doctors’ appointments, criminal record checks, social services checks, lawyers and the seemingly endless details required to be allowed to wait for you. At times it feels overwhelming. A precarious mountain of paperwork to climb before we begin the slow descent towards bringing you home. Many have questioned the need for this much paperwork or the fact that we need to prove ourselves when there are children waiting for families. I’d be lying if I said I never felt even a little resentful. But a wise person has reminded me that while we are looking for a child, there are those who are searching, on your behalf, for a family.

If you ever question whether you were loved before you came to be with us, I can tell you already that I know this to be true. Because while I don’t like that it has to take so long and the red tape is sometimes tiring, it is good to know that there are people out there making sure that you will come to a good home. They don’t just care about getting rid of kids. They are genuinely concerned deeply for the children in their care and want them to have the best homes and lives possible. And while there may be days when you sincerely question their judgment in giving you to us (read: the teenage years), I hope you will feel the true devotion of these special people to seeing you not just live, but flourish.

We have been told to find out all we can about the culture of your birth. In doing so I have realized that I have had some major misconceptions regarding intercountry adoption. Countries do not relinquish their children easily. In North America we can be so egotistical as to believe that countries with orphans who need homes should thank us for adopting. But I have begun to realize how terribly much humility it takes for a government to allow citizens of another country to take and raise their children in a different culture. I have realized that while I have a responsibility to you to teach you about the country and culture of your birth, I also have a responsibility to your country of birth to teach you about the people you come from who loved you and cared for you and gave us the opportunity to love you too.

I have been warned not to call you “Chosen”. Something I never thought of as a bad thing, because I felt that I made the choice to become a parent, by birth and by adoption. Although it can safely be said that that is where my choice ended as I didn’t choose your brother and sister specifically, nor will I have the opportunity to choose you. It was suggested to me that adopted children who have grown up with the label “chosen” sometimes feel tremendous pressure to be…something extraordinary? I’m not sure. Let me be clear: I expect no more than for you to be happy and make the best choices you can in life and to learn from your mistakes. I use “chosen child” for you at this moment because I don’t know you and calling you “Child-who-is-probably-not-born-yet-and-who-I-plan-to-love-until-my-insides-explode” is not practical. I hope you understand.

With all my love,
Mommy

We went to the zoo where we spent hours playing at the zoo playground…

…mostly with the leaves on the ground. Because why else would you go to the zoo?

It was a beautiful day.

Just me and my babies.

And then it was Easter. We dyed eggs and that was entertaining for about 3 minutes.

And then we did the traditional Easter egg hunt for baskets and chocolates, etc. That was entertaining for much longer.

We also spent some time working on renovating the first of our three bathrooms (all of which need a fairly significant facelift). And by we, of course, I mean the hubby. So this…

…was turned into this.

And then we went on a short trip to visit my best friend who happened to be visiting a few hours from us. It was fantastic. And isn’t her hair awesome?

Our kids got to meet each other for the first time and we had the chance to enjoy each others’ company and drink good wine and it was fantastic.

Our hubbies are comically different in stature but very similar in personality. I love it.

And so that is a little of what has been going on with me. There’s been more, of course. There always is. Stay tuned.

Ever heard of Sseko Designs? These sandals are made by young women in Uganda who have recently completed secondary school. The money they earn is meant to help them pay university tuition and go on to complete higher education. And if you don’t think they are totally adorable, then you are crazy.

These are the ones I just ordered and if I love them even a fraction as much as I think I’m going to they will be well used. They come in different colours and patterns and I’m not sure but I suspect the selection changes from time to time. Buying a lovely product for a good cause is right up my alley and this company ships to all over the world which is pretty amazing!  Check them out!

Well now, that wasn’t so hard after all. Consider me back on the wagon.

I doubt you’ll remember it but I think I’ll always remember climbing into your bed tonight to snuggle with you when you were having trouble falling asleep. We lay there quietly for a few moments and then you started to giggle and I tried to resist but soon I was giggling too and before we knew it we were both laughing so hard the tears were streaming down our faces and our bellies were aching.

I asked you what you were laughing at and you said “My brains are telling me jokes” and it was just one of those moments that will stick with me. Maybe not the words, but certainly the sentiment. You are so full of simple joy, son. It is infectious and refreshing and I hope that joy stays with you and sustains you always.

Love,
Your Mother

Tadaaa!!!!

Couldn’t you just die?

A close-up. There are some ribbons to spice it up a bit.

Truly, this project was so easy I may start making them as gifts for other little girls we know. I had enough left over from the first one to make a slightly smaller one. I think I could make a lovely one with less tulle than I used in the first tutu – I packed the tulle really tight so it would be extra poofy, but even half of what I put on would probably still make a sufficiently poofy skirt. So there you have it. You have the recipe for a fast, easy and relatively inexpensive craft that is guaranteed to make a little girl in your life happy. You’re welcome!

I have had my sewing machine since my Oma passed away 8 years ago. But it has only been used occasionally and very infrequently for genuine sewing projects. The machine is easily 50 years old and it punished me for neglecting it by chewing up thread and spitting it out in a tangled disaster that could not really be called “sewing”. Before Christmas I was contemplating how much longer I could keep the old girl around when she was no longer co-operating with me. But I was told that old machines could often be salvaged with a simple tune-up.

Lo and behold the old girl is back and she works like a charm. So when I was compelled to direct my creative juices towards a specific project, I decided to attempt to sew a dress for Avery. Can you believe the arrogance?? Because I can sew a straight line I thought that I somehow possessed the ability to decipher the ridiculously complicated hieroglyphics in a sewing pattern and somehow translate that into an actual garment! Complete madness!!!

I started out all peppy and excited about the project and managed to assemble all the right materials despite a very much less than helpful fabric store clerk who insisted I needed less material than I had interpreted according to the back of the pattern. After I explained sloooowly half a dozen times, what was clearly shown on the pattern I was able to get what I needed (Dear Fabricland Clerk, YOU are supposed to KNOW what you are DOING!!! Thanks for nothing!).

After bringing all the materials home I did just exactly what you would expect. I got right to work like a busy little beaver I shoved it all in a cupboard and ignored it for several weeks.

I did eventually muster up the guts to open up the pattern. After looking it over for a bit I concluded I needed an engineering or architecture degree to decipher the directions. So I did just exactly what you would expect. I studied the directions until I figured out how to begin I shoved it all back in the cupboard again.

After some time and several handfuls of xanax I was able to fudge my way through and although I think it probably wasn’t completed quite according to the specifications (how is it possible for a simple dress like this to have twenty pieces???), it turned out all right.

Avery questions my choice of fabrics, she’s not sure if they “match” but accepted it because it is primarily pink and she can’t resist pink. What do you think?

The hubby says it reminds him of the dresses Maria sews from curtains for the Von Trapp children in The Sound of Music. I’m not sure yet if this is a compliment or criticism.

And now the sewing machine and I are going to take a little break from each other and see if we still want to work together in a few months. Or maybe next winter. We’ll see how long it takes.

I don’t want or plan for this blog to become all about adoption.  But right now it’s a significant portion of my life and is overwhelmingly in the forefront of my thoughts as we prepare the documents we need to send across the ocean. I haven’t been writing much because I don’t want to write the same things over and over and because I don’t have a whole lot to say. But the blog isn’t forgotten. Thank you to those of you who continue to read even when the material is sparse.

After a recent roadtrip which included multiple trips to McDonalds I have realized that many of you congregate at your local Golden Arches. I’m not sure why. I would have thought people such as yourselves would have higher standards, but whatever. The point is, your attempts to subvert the accepted line structure at fast food establishments are totally obnoxious.

McDonalds is set up with a system. A system which customers are expected to follow. It’s simple, really. The restaurants generally have several lanes which may or may not be staffed. When you enter the restaurant you are expected to pick a line. You may or may not pick the fastest line and you pretty much suffer the consequences of your choice. Pick the line where the newest pimply, hungover teenaged employee is struggling to enter orders into the computer and you end up waiting a long time. Guess what? That’s life.

The fact that you may draw the short straw does not give you the right to commandeer all the lineups and force all your fellow patrons to get in one line to advance as a cashier becomes available. You may wish that’s the way it worked, but you may or may not have heard that you can’t always get what you want. True story. I looked it up.

You should be faced with the irrationality of your behaviour when you have to explain your line-up philosophy to every person who walks in the door while passing moral judgment on everyone who challenges your authority, lest each person try to avoid your long lineup and get in a different line, as would be LOGICAL. You should realize this is not the right course of action. But I recognize that your need for control has polluted all rational thought which is the only reason I’ve refrained from starting a fistfight during our several recent encounters, even though I am strongly convinced that a punch to the face would bring many of you back to reality.

Get over yourselves.

Love,
Shannon