Finding Keira's Joy

When I look back at pictures of Quint…our first few months together…I see so much love in those photos.  Two-way love.  Utter abandon of affection, joy, and trust.  He was, while strong-willed, an overtly loving and trusting soul.  He allowed Anton and I to cover him with our love and devotion and he absorbed and delighted in every bit of it. 

When I look back at pictures of Keira…oh…{sigh}.  I feel a bit removed.  Those first few months were difficult in so many ways.  Our love did not come as naturally for one another.  We were bruised – each in our own way.  Hurt, each in our own right.   Even a little bit miserable, if you will.  Getting through.  Trying to find a new normal.  Trying to find affection, joy, and trust.  And finding each one tucked away and hiding.  I look at the pictures and I see my girl – but I don’t.  Not the one I know now.

It took several months for a relationship to form between us.  And I would add that it truly has taken what has amounted to the whole year home for us to find  a solid rhythm.  A natural two-way street of honest love and delight in each other. 

Keira is a smart little girl.  We found this out in China.  She was intuitive in a way that we had not been prepared for.  Sensed things that babies her age didn’t seem to.  Understood things that my mind said she couldn’t possibly understand.  And her grief, as many of you remember, was palpable.  She refused to be comforted by us.  She instead, retreated within and held on to herself for dear life.  She wanted nothing to do with us.  And who can blame her?  In retrospect, you can see that better.  At the time, I was so hurt by her rejection of both of us – well, you know the story.

And if you don’t, you can read it here:

The Beginning

The Middle

The End & The Beginning

But here is a bit of transparency:  Keira is such a lovely child.  And I’m so glad that I can see her clearly now – and understand her better today than even yesterday.  Her joy is now palpable – replacing her grief in folds. 

I have gone back to look over the pictures of our time in China, only a few times.  It’s painful for me.  In many ways, I don’t like to re-live it by looking at the tough images of her grief.

But I was delighted to look with fresh eyes at some of the photos that really seemed to capture her contagious spirit.  Even in her despair – she was trying so hard to find joy.  I am moved beyond words to see her little spirit shining through – something I simply could not see while we were there in the moment.  She was so beautiful.  So ALIVE.  Such a fighter.  So raw.  My God, the things she had been through in her short little life…and all she was trying so hard to understand, make sense of, accept…on whatever level she was able to.  She lost everything.  She lost her mother and was unceremoniously dumped into the arms of a new one. 

Her resiliency on whatever level she could conjure it is breathtaking and I am humbled by the light in her eyes…

And friends – now that I have time with me and the fresh pain of those weeks in China tucked neatly away, I can honestly say that I regret so much.  Knowing this child the way I do now…loving her the way I do; it nearly breaks me that I was missing in action for her.  I regret that I was consumed within and unable to be the grown-up I needed to be.  It was survival mode, and I was in deep.  Her rejection at the time spawned such a world of heartache for me that I had not planned on – and so, I just shut down and counted the hours/minutes/seconds until I could be home again.  I willed myself to play nice.  Smile.  Make an effort.  I willed myself to be her mother.  To play the part, though I was feeling none of it inside. 

Maybe you hate even reading this right now.  Maybe it reeks of my selfishness.  And I would agree with you.  I was selfish.  And I was overwhelmed.  And I was beaten down.  Nothing, and I mean nothing – was as I thought it would be.  Nothing had prepared me for that kind of pain. 

And I want you to know that I have whispered apologies from the depths of my heart into her little ears for months.  Whispered my deep affection, my undying love, my sheer delight in her – hoping it will erase any of the selfishness she might have felt from me in those first weeks together. 

And I want you to know that I have fallen so deeply, so completely, so utterly in love with Keira Joy that there is no sense dwelling on the past any longer.  Our beginning was rough – and that’s the way it is.  But oh, the rest…what a love story.  Can I tell you?

She is everything.  She is absolutely the daughter I prayed for and the child I longed for and
the hope that stirred in my heart for so long. 

She is apple pie and vanilla ice-cream, all warm and gooey and perfect and delightful.

She is gorgeous – inside and outside and upside and downside. 

There is nothing I can say here – nothing – that can encompass her fully.

She is bright, happy, warm, out-going, shy, lovely, funny, smart, caring, gentle, kind, strong,

independent, talkative, intuitive, sweet, charming, affectionate,

loving, brave, tender, polite, curious, devoted…

And I am so moved to tell you that she is deeply attached to all of us and we to her, in every possible way.

For all the times I have thought to post about her, I could never find the words.  The reason is, she is all of them.  I’m not just being a writer.  I’m not just being a mother either.  I’m speaking from my heart and telling you that this child was a gift from God and He knew…oh how He knew…the many places she would fill and fit into my heart.  Into her Daddy’s heart.  Into the hearts of all who meet her.  She has a way…an unspeakable joy.

And if you had asked me in China – if I ever could imagine writing this down for you to read  1 1/2 years later…imagine writing those words above about her, if I would have been able to accept it – I would have heartily said “no”.  I would have said it was impossible.

But don’t let’s ask that Christie.  She was blind with pain.

Let’s ask the one writing now…

The one with a better perspective.

Not the one who “willed” herself to be Keira’s mother.  No, let’s leave her in the past.  She’s better off there.

Let’s ask the one that Keira calls out to from across the room in that perfect tiny voice…

Let’s ask her, because she’s so much better acquainted with who Keira was & who she really is.

So much better equipped.

So much more in touch with the heart of this amazing little girl.

The same little girl who found a way to make those eyes sparkle
under the darkest and saddest of circumstances.

The same little girl whose eyes sparkle today.

And for that all I can say is it's exactly as it should be...

Keira Joy, I'm never going anywhere.

I'm so grateful we found a way to each other, half a world apart.

Against big odds, I think.

And the bottom line is that I love you with everything in me

and I will always be by your side to my last breath.

Because I'm your mommy and it's for always, sweet baby girl.

Always. Always. Always…

You are Joy.  Pure joy...

It starts…

Two weeks ago, while I was getting ready in my bathroom:

Q – “Mommy, me black!” (Like a proclamation)

Me – “Actually, I think you are a beautiful brown.”

Q – Looks at his arm with furrowed brow:  “Hmmm…browwwwwn. Sissy brown too?”

Me – “Yes, she is brown too! Isn’t her skin pretty?” Pointing to Keira.

Q –  Casually he answers:  “Yeah”.  Then staring at me for a long time:  “Mommy white?”

Me – Sighing:  “Yes, sadly, Mommy is a pasty white and not much looks good on me as a result.  You and sissy have the most beautiful color of skin and everything looks good on you.”

Q – With a very concerned look: “Mommy? Why me black? Why?”

Me – “Because God made you and me and sissy-girl in His image. So we are all exactly as He wanted us to look.” 

(blank stare at me)….”Well, He also must have known how good you’d look in Orange!”

Last week, Quint and I were discussing where we’re from:

Q - “Mommy? Where from?”

Me - “I’m from California. Not terribly interesting, I know. But still…it’s home.”

Q – “Why you do dat?”

Me – “What? Come from California?”

Q – “yeah”

Me – “errrmmm, well I didn’t have a choice. That’s where Nina and Papa lived when I was born. So when Nina had me, we lived in California and so I just lived there for a really long time.”

Q – pensive look and furrowed brow. “Me from Arifcak?”

Me – “yes, you are from Africa”

Q – “Mommy live Africak?”

Me – ……blank look….”no, baby…Mommy didn’t live there when you were born”

Q – “oh…Mommy not from Africak?”

Me – “no, Mommy not from Africak. But I went to Africa with Daddy when you were a baby, so that we could be together. Isn’t that wonderful?!”

Q – “mm hmm”…(looking confused and not really absorbing that information.) “Me play wif my cars?”

Me – “yes, let’s play with your cars…”

He’s a charming, bright, and curious little guy! 

But I do believe it’s finally starting…and so, can I ask that you pray for us as we navigate Quint’s beautiful story and humble beginnings with him over the next several years. I know it seems rather straight forward. But when you’re living it – it certainly seems more daunting – this role of protecting the heart, speaking the truth, and comforting the soul. I know my children are loved – but that doesn’t change the story’s beginning. It doesn’t change that they are “short” two parents and an entire extended biological family. As we move into the phase of understanding over the next few years, I am hopeful that God’s grace will permeate the air of our family, and allow us to use the right words in loving kindness.  We would covet your prayers as we learn how to love our kids more and more and meet them exactly where they are.

A Moment’s Peace

Sometimes, when it gets quiet in the house, I get worried.  You know, like that rule about "7 seconds".  By the 7th second, every mother starts to panic or whatever? 

I have that.  I get really uncomfortable when I don’t hear chaos.  Or fighting.  Not because I like the squabbles (good heavens, NO), but rather because I need to know that the realm for which I have been nominated to have accountability for, is still running smoothly (despite squabbling).  That certain little people are not say; burning down the house, or filling up bathtubs with water, or destroying Daddy’s 30 year old comic book collection.  Stuff like that.

So when all fell silent the other day, I got worried.  I *thought* they were watching “Tangled”.  But it was too quiet.  Because even movie watching of any kind still usually entails lots of bickering and whining, etc. 

So I went to check.  Just to see.  Just to confirm which mess I would be charged with cleaning up.

And then it was like birds were singing.  Like the clouds parted and a rainbow appeared and June Cleaver herself popped out of thin air and gave me a love nudge and a wink and sprinkled Magical Mommy Dust on me.

Could it be?

They were actually watching the movie?

Together?

In peace and quiet and happiness?  Actually snuggling?

Get out of here.

Good grief!  What’s next?  Random acts of kindness and general tolerance of each other’s presence? 

I might pass out.  Send backup.

Never mind the shoe…

Aren’t they spectacular?  Good grief…I could cry.

I remember all to well when these images were just part of the dreams of what we wanted so badly for our life.

A family.

Children.

Keira Joy.

For so long…

Sigh…

So never mind the ill-placed flip-flop.  Who knows how that got there? 

Just enjoy the scenery…I know I am.

Three, beautiful three…

As I was glancing over the calendar, over the lists of things to do, over the commitments and items cropping up to be done – something special caught my eye. 

And that is to say, it was noted and ready to be celebrated.  It had just slipped our minds.  Maybe that’s a good thing in a way – we’re integrated.  We’re living our lives and moving forward and sometimes the anniversaries creep up and then suddenly, there they are. 

Many of you have followed us through this blog for several years now, as we have gone from being two to being a family of four.  Some of you remember these pictures.  Some of you remember these moments – rich with love and adoration, excitement and nerves.  You might remember when we introduced you to this little man…over three years ago.

     

More so, you might recall when we ourselves were introduced to him…3 years ago today





I have written umpteen times over the course of the past three years about the struggles being a new mother has been for me, about trying to cope with my new role, about finding a groove and settling in.  I have written  truthfully and from my heart about the difficulty I have faced all of those three years in coping with Quint’s strong will.  I have been transparent that not every day is sunny.  Not every day, amazing.  Not every day, all I hoped it would be.

But Quint has taught me so many things about myself that I hadn’t even counted on.  Like looking at your own reflection and seeing what needs to be different.  I could list them all here – but there’s not enough space.  He has certainly given me my mommy badge,  and then some.  And for all the tough moments, and the tears and frustration, and even pain, it has certainly been worth every second.  Every second, again and again.

Because there is one thing that is the constant.  One thing that is the source of my energy, dedication, drive and force. 

My love for him. 

From the minute he was placed in my arms.  Actually, from the minute I laid my eyes on him.  Up there.  In that picture I just shared with you.  That was my first look, and I was gone.  Just totally gone.  I felt love so deep in my heart of hearts, that I thought I might explode from it. 

And that part?  Well, that never changes.  I love him intensely.  And it’s that love that pulls me through the rough patches of parenting.  And I think God knew that, you know?  I think He knew exactly how deep a mother’s love would go and just how far it would carry her. 

Because this boy?  I love him beyond reason…I don’t see that changing.  Like, ever.

   

Son, you are part of us.  Always.  God saw that it was so.  I’m so grateful you are our son, and that God chose US to be your family.  That is the thought that constantly humbles your Daddy and I.  We got you!  Not so sure we deserved it, but oh what a blessing you have been and are to us.  What a life-changing, heart altering, amazing blessing.

Three years ago today…and for all of your tomorrows.

Love you forever, little man

Happy Family Day to us!

Volumes of Love

My husband is an amazing man.  Oh, sure…I’ve said it before.  Many times.  But there are times it bears repeating.  Times when he reminds me all over again why he’s always going to be the one.  And times when the most selfless gestures speak vast volumes of love to me in unexpected ways.

See these flowers?  Aren’t they simple, but elegant and beautiful?

AB didn’t buy me these flowers.  Oh, no.  I bought them for myself.  Just because, you know?  I guess they make me smile and they make me feel cheery when I look at them. 

And a few years ago, this might have been how Anton would have served me.  Might have been one of the more prominent ways that he would have shown love to me.  He would have brought me a lovely bouquet of flowers and I would have gushed over them, and put them in water, much like what you see here.  I would have been happy and felt spoiled.  I would have given him a kiss and told him how I love him and how happy he makes me.

And there are times he still does this.  No, this isn’t to say that I never get flowers. 

But flowers aren’t cuttin’ it these days.  They aren’t making the list.  They aren’t even rating, really.  I think he knows this somewhere on the husband radar. 

Tonight Anton walked in from a long day at work.  He appraised the situation.  He looked at me with my frazzled wild eyes, hair tousled in all the wrong ways, wretched stress seeping off my core and the background noise of our children whining and crying over who took what toy from whom…as it had been going for hours.  It was one of “those” days.  I was looking steadfastly for the proverbial towel.  I needed it.  I needed it so that I could, with all my might, throw it in.

Instead, I asked how his day was and we talked about very casual things for a few minutes.  He was a little under the weather, his day was long, he was ready for Summer. 

And then, unexpectedly, he offered this:

“Why don’t you take off for a few hours.  I’ve got this!  Go have dinner somewhere.  Go shop.  Go read at a bookstore.  Go to Starbucks.  Just get out of here and have some time for yourself.  I want to take care of you.”

I gaped open-mouthed.  “But you’re not feeling well?!  I should be staying here to take care of you!  I can’t leave you here with the dynamic duo when you’re not feeling well.  You’ll die!  They will out-smart and out-last you, baby.  They are WILEY.  I should stay.” – this was all true.  He was not feeling well and they are wiley.

No.  He wasn't having it.  He was fine, he said.  The kids would be fine, he reassured me.  You need time away from this, he reiterated.  I was ushered out and left to my own devices until whenever.

And so I meandered around some stores.  Bought some lovely earrings.  Sat in silence (utterly BLISSFUL silence) through a long and delicious dinner.  No one asked me anything, except if I wanted more or this or that.  No one needed.  No one grasped at my legs.  No one whined in my general direction.  No one sought me out.  No one followed me when I got up to use the restroom.  (that right there alone…)

Sigh…

Volumes. Of. Love.

OODLES of it.

I was happy and I felt spoiled.  When I got home, I kissed and hugged him and told him how much I loved him and how happy he makes me.  Then I took his temperature, gave him medicine, and put him to bed.

Seasons of life certainly bring about changes in the way we show love to one another.  Certainly bring about shifts in what speaks love to us.   And that’s part of growing up in each other as well.  Learning to read between the lines, learning to meet the other person where they are.  Learning to be selfless, as AB was tonight – though he was feeling so poorly. 

That’s love.

I’m so grateful for a husband who senses on his own accord how to meet my needs exactly. 

I’ll buy my own flowers.

On Not Being Partial

I’m not partial to adorable children.  Heck, I’m not even partial to children in general.  But these two?  Come on now…

Fine, you tell me how to keep from being HEAD OVER HEALS and I’ll get right on that…

Or wait?  Why fight a good thing??

Aren’t they darling?!?!

Until big brother tries to “choke” baby sister. 

Ahem. 

See, we’re just darling right up until that point.

And look at his face.

Seriously.

No regret.

More or less “get this, Mom!”

Don’t know whether to laugh or seek help.

** I may or may not love yellow and happy flowers in the Spring.  I'm neither confirming nor denying.  And I'm simply stating that it's highly possible that being that's it's Spring, I might not have been able to keep myself from a bloggy re-fresh to match my "rumored" love of yellow.   Yes.  Perhaps that's quite "possibly" what has happened over here at Bushel & A Peck.  Ahem.  I. Am. In. Love. with this one.  Can't help it.  No help for it.  Are you in the mood for a Spring Blog Makeover?  Come see me...

Maybe you need to read this…

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” –Matthew 11:28-30

I love that scripture.  I love that Jesus is constantly reaching out, across the ages, to comfort me where I sit in my jammies, typing away on my laptop and trying to make sense of my days.

Perhaps I can’t think of anything uplifting to talk about.  I mean, I could.  That is to say – I could conjure up a whole load of malarkey about this or that.  OR I could choose to see the blessings and write about those.  Choose to be thankful and list those many things off.  And I am.  Thankful and blessed.  Truly, I am.

But I’m also cloudy.  And writing it here, it’s not for you.  Sure, you may read it and take it or leave it.  But me?  I’m writing it down to remember.  To remember it even a couple years from now.  Because, actually – it helps. 

See, I kept wracking my brain about what to “talk” about and over-thinking what uplifting thing I could share with you.  And then I realized – maybe that’s not what you need to read anymore than I have it in me to write.  Maybe what you need to read is that life can be so, so difficult at times.  And that, despite the many blessings we have – still, our human frailty shows up in unexpected ways and knocks the wind out of us.

Maybe you need to hear that some parenting days are like butter on toast…warm and gooey and lovely and comforting.  And others, are so hard they make you weep.  Some days are the kind that buckle your knees and make you wonder what you think you’re doing raising little people.

Maybe you need to read that someone, another mother much like yourself, sits in her own space and wonders how this even happened.  These mini-me sponges who can be so amazing and so unbearable in the same moment.  That there is another mother out there who, maybe like you, doesn’t always enjoy it.  Doesn’t always see it as “the best thing that ever happened” to her. 

And I don’t care if that makes me unpopular with like, 2 of you.  Because I happen to know from experience that just about EVERY MOTHER has felt at one time or another that this parenting thing?  Not all that it’s cracked up to be.  Also?  The pressure to be the perfect mother?  Unbelievably difficult to shoulder. 

Maybe you needed to be reassured that every day really is like “Groundhog Day”.  No, it’s not your imagination and yes, it really does feel like it will never end.  It really does seem like some days they are out to get you AND your goat.  It really is the same thing over. and over. and over. and over.  And yes, you will be this tired for many years.

Maybe you just needed to know that feeling overwhelmed, making mistakes, and feeling like your messing up your children for life is part of a bigger picture – called motherhood.  And it’s completely normal to feel that way. 

Maybe it helps to think that while you sit in your kitchen, your living room…even your bathroom…trying to get your head clear and imagine a time when you might be able to put cohesive thoughts and sentences together again in adult company, another mother – actually thousands of mothers – are doing the same thing at the exact same moment.  Sharing your burden, without even realizing it.  Sharing your distress.  Understanding where you are and how you are feeling.

Maybe you need to hear again and again that “this too shall pass”.  That there will be a day…not so far off…quite quickly in the grand scheme of life…when they will be grown and you will wonder where the time went.  You will wonder why it went so fast.  You will miss their little feet and their small voices.  You might regret how fast they went and grew up and left you for the big world.  You might cry.  You might feel cloudy again. 

And maybe you just needed to hear all of that so you can put it all back into perspective again.  So you can get up tomorrow morning and do it again.  And the next day.  And you can keep on keeping on.  So that you can know you’re not alone. 

Not now and not ever.  And not through any single stage of this thing we call motherhood.

Maybe you needed to be reminded that His yoke is easy and His burden is light.  That He will give you rest.  That He is gentle.  And loving.  And humble.  And He loves you – exactly where you are.  Spit-up stains, sleeplessness, frayed nerves and all. 

Maybe you needed to read that today.

Maybe I did too.

Today alone…

I can list several things that didn’t go according to my make-shift parenting manual: (and this is truly all from today! – be glad I’m not listing yesterday’s trials!)

1.  My son woke up at the crack of dawn and proceeded to climb in bed with me and shout “wake up, Mommy…mornnng tine”

2.  That same son played “drop the toy you can’t live without behind the headboard”, and consequently unplugged our lights, chargers, and clocks in doing so. “Mommy! An acccccccccccident"!”  Uh huh.  Sure.

3.  He then locked himself in the bathroom and proceeded to get on the potty for an, ermmm, extended session – if you catch my drift.  Then couldn’t get off said potty to get the assistance he needed.

4.  My daughter used her play comb on the dog and somehow it got stuck momentarily.  Long enough for the dog to walk around with a pink plastic comb stuck to her head.

5.  Two reports came back from two different schools for Mr. Q on this fine Tuesday:  First he dumped his lunch on the floor.  On purpose.  Put yogurt in his hair.  On purpose.  Then he pinched a kid.  When asked why, he made a “grrrrr” sound followed by a vehement “Mommy! Boy push me!”  Ok.  We’ll give that one over to self-defense.  But yogurt?  In his hair?  People.  Please?

6.  At some point, and I can’t pin-point the “when” – Quint lured his sister into our very small kitchen pantry and closed the door.  With her inside.  Screaming.  And him, on the outside.  Giggling. 

7.  A session of “let’s play outside” turned into chaos when somehow – someone under 3 feet tall smuggled out an entire backpack full of play food and decorated the backyard with it.  I’m not naming 3 year old names though.

8.  After the pizza came out of the oven, I sliced half of it and plated it up.  The other half succumbed to Q trying to do his own version of slicing with the pizza cutter.  I swear, I turned my back for less than .05 nano-seconds.  Criminy!

9.  A big brother might have taken it upon himself to smash his sisters hand in the cabinet, in trying to keep her out of it.  “Mommy!  An acccccccident!”  Uh huh.  Sure.

10.  A little sister took it upon herself to “wash up” and went to the bathroom, stood on the stool, turned on the water, pumped the kid soap – oh say, 15 times – and lathered herself up head to toe.  And the counter.  And the floor.  And the cabinets. 

Which was temporarily funny enough to capture on camera.  Until she decided it would also be fun to “wash her eyes”…

I can’t make this stuff up people…

Bedtime could not have come soon enough today.

Those of you with toddlers can relate!

Those of you who remember all too well the toddler years – can send me your pity. 

And I wonder why I have no time to write anything of substance on here.

Kaleigh

Yesterday was Mother’s Day around our nation, and I hope you celebrated it well and with those you love, as I did.

But it was also another anniversary of sorts, and I’m still a bit raw from the remembrance.

A year ago, we said goodbye to our little Kaleigh.  You can read about that HERE and HERE.

I don’t think there are enough ways to describe the genuine attachment and deep love that we felt for her.

And since I’m already crying, trying to type this out, I’ll be brief…

 

She was a spirited and a dear little soul.  She was sweet and ornery.  She was faithful and loving and my dear friend to the last possible moment.

I still remember the look in her big brown eyes when I asked her to lay down that last time.  Friends, it makes me weep.

I think God knew so very well what He was offering us, when he gave us the gift and companionship of animals. 

There is something so deeply tried and true, innocent and kind about them.  He must have known how badly we would need that special kind of love and faithfulness in our broken world.

I have to believe in my heart I might see her again on the other side – because I do believe that God cares about what we care about.  And only God can know how much that little dog meant to my heart.

I can’t believe I’ve had to part with sweet Kaleigh for a year.  It feels longer and it feels like yesterday.

It breaks this mother’s heart all over again…and it’s still so painful.

Just a dog?  Never.  Not in a million years.

So much more…through and through

Happy Mother’s Day

I want it to go on record for the world. 

Mark this down. 

Someone take a note!

I LOVE MY MOM WITH ALL MY HEART!

Whew…I feel much better…

Mom?  I love you.  With all my heart.

Happy Mother’s Day…I’ll be seeing you SOON!

Ten Years is a long time

and as I already mentioned – I woefully failed to post that Anton and I have been married for a decade in April.

Don’t let my lack of posting fool you though.  It was the perfect celebration in many ways – none the least of which was a trip to the Opera, an art Museum, a quiet and very romantic stroll through a sculpture garden, a return the restaurant where we dined for both our engagement and the night after our wedding.  Then a few days later, it was a small overnight get-away (the kids got pampered at a friend’s), another lovely and romantic dinner, and a chance to sleep in until 10am the next day.  Oh, I die….

It was heavenly.  He did it right.  He did everything he POSSIBLY could, given his frantic production schedule, to remind me that I’m still the one.

And I say all of this, because people – sometimes we need a reminder in the middle of the chaos – that we’re still the one.  Am I right?

It was a beautiful celebration that spanned a week.  I could not ask for a better husband in all the world – and I mean that with all my heart.  His Mama done raised him right…(wink…that’s you Mama B! – love you!)

Happy Anniversary, Man of Mine…I adore you!

Say who what now?

It’s been a difficult few weeks.  Not gonna lie.   Lots of sick running amok.  Lots of tantrums and the usual there with Quint’s speech and the physical aggression.  And I need a vacation, but that’s SOOOO off the radar at the moment.  Anton has been working an insane amount of hours.  Our house is a train wreck.  Don’t ask.  I can’t do it right now.  I can’t.  It’s a lost cause and I’m not fighting that right now.  I love you, Mr. House.  Really I do.  Let’s just look at all that dust as a way to keep yourself warm, what with a drop into the 40’s today.  (from 92 on Saturday.  yes.)

Lots of wanting to post certain things on the blog, and realizing my limitations to care for myself (sick) and two sick kids.  And, I failed in the biggest way to note that we celebrated ten years married a week ago.  And for that I feel so sad…how could I miss that mark on the blog?  What a shame!  I might need to make up for it with a post, just because it will make me feel better.  How about Easter?  Totally failed on that one too.  And here’s the sad part – my kids did not get to do any celebratory things because of being sick and time and scheduling.  FAIL.  There’s always next year?  Maybe?….(trails off as she hangs her head)

And there’s this:  It’s so much pressure to feel like I’m letting you down somehow, when a week has gone by and I’ve been posting nothing.  Pressure.  I hate that I let myself feel that way.  It’s not you, obviously – since I don’t even have comments any more.  But I still feel this need to keep you all in the loop.  We’re going to call that my desperate need for community in the midst of the storm.

Someone asked me if I’m depressed.  Ummm, yes.  I think that’s kind of apparent, no?  But I don’t feel clinically depressed.  I feel situationally depressed.  Make sense?  Meaning, between everything we have going on right now – I am a little down.  On the other hand, life does hold meaning – I love my family – and I am quite content in my spirit that God has His merciful hand on us no matter what.  I know happier days will be coming – and that this too shall pass.  Depressed?  A little bit.  Hopeful?  Always!!

Many of you have reached out to ask about Quint and the latest is that he’s doing pretty well.  His speech/sensory issues are a work in progress and I suspect will take quite a while to sort through and out.  His recent illness concerned me because what started as a cold for the rest of us – morphed into something far worse for little Q.  Instead of getting better, he started regressing and getting fevers and waking up in the night.  So I took him to the doc of all docs (we kinda think his ped is spectacular) and that’s when we got to the “say what” portion of our week.  After two bouts of the Croup, two separate cases of draining ears and infections, and a few colds thrown in for good measure…

Quint needs surgery to remove his tonsils, adenoids, and needs tubes in his ears.  A fairly common surgery, but one that  we hope will render some really great results for Quint.  Many of you know that he came home from Ethiopia with puss draining from his perforated eardrums.  More recently, we noticed that when he gets a common cold – it’s once again turning into puss filled draining ears.  His nose has given him grief for three years – with what feels like constant drainage.  I can’t imagine how he struggles.  Not able to articulate how he’s feeling – and yet being so miserable.  How frustrating for him!

So, we’re now on a path for surgery and saying prayers that this will be a big difference for him.  Maybe for the speech.  Maybe for the sensory?  I don’t know, and don’t claim to know how all of these things might tie in to make a very frustrated child feel more aggressive and have trouble speaking.  But I’m holding on to a small hope that maybe – just maybe – this might make a big difference for him.  Just a hunch…

So there it is.  And with that, I’ll leave you with this darling little picture taken this weekend while spending a fab-o time with our besties.  It was a Royal weekend after all – and you can’t tell two 3-year old boys that they can’t dress up with their sisters…no matter what the costume is!

Cheers from the funny farm…