Connected

The hip bone's connected to the back bone
The back bone's connected to the neck bone,
The neck bone's connected to the head bone....

If only this was really true. 

My hips no longer feel connected to anything. Clearly my neck bone has withered into rolls of swollen fat. I have more rings than a tree and I can only hope that everything leaves a beloved stretch mark so I can forever remember the awesomeness of this pregnancy. 

Added at my own risk.  This was taken yesterday. Those that know me know this is not a typical look....those that dont can judge. Enjoy. 

In my sleep last night I somehow injured the spot on my arm where my bicep used to be. It must be a phantom pain because there is clearly no muscle left there (or anywhere in my body.) I tried to pick up Evan this morning and my arm failed to give me an assist. Lucky for Evan he has a steel like grip that never fails him and my little koala hung on for dear life while my right arm hung limply by my side...aching.  My head bone failed to register the fact that my body is useless and I attempted to walk downstairs. This simple act clearly illustrated that my hip bones were no longer connected to anything. Ezekial is falling down on the job. Clearly.  They are free floating entities with minds of their own. They do not often wish to go in the same direction at the same time and produce wonderful groans from my mouth bone. 

My head bone is wishing it could fall asleep for the next two months and simply wake up with a body that is once again properly connected and functioning. ..with a new precious baby to show for it. 

Dem bones dem bones...gonna walk around. But maybe not for the next two months. 

**disclaimer. This is not a pity post. I should be offering this up or gaining some character from the experience. I refuse. Instead I am sharing my misery instead of a lovely update about Evan and Eli. Boom. With a soundtrack which Eli sings as "dem boings dem boings gonna bonk around."  Blame my head bone. 

What it looks like

It is not always pretty. Seemingly never easy and yet, it is the greatest undertaking I have ever attempted....some call it parenthood. I call it crazy.

We got home from our first family vacation with Evan last night. I was SPENT. My legs, ankles and feet were swollen to ridiculous proportions and I thought to myself "was it really worth it?" I swear I aged ten years in 7 days.

I watched the boys playing and running off their excess energy while I elevated my ginormous feet and for the first moment all felt normal. It didn't feel like I was getting used to having 2 three year olds in my house. It didn't seem too loud, too crazy, too much. My boys were just playing and I was simply enjoying them. Haha. It sounds so silly as I read this . .but I am in tears reliving the moment. I didn't realize what an effort the past three months have been, that even the little moments were a transition that required focus and energy. What a blessed little moment last night.

I love Evan the same as if he was my biological child. It took some doing, but it is there and I cherish my houseful of little boys. I cannot illustrate the love or explain why it took such effort.. . but this is the result and it is more beautiful than I can stand. I am such a lucky girl.

Evan when we met him.

Evan today. Grown out of his 18 month shirt! Yippee!

Goofing with his big brother

 And Evan soaking up the good life on vacation. What could be sweeter?

Part of the solution

Some of the paths that I have chosen to take have not yielded the results I was looking for. Some have caused great harm to myself and to others, all with the best of intentions. A couple of those experiences left me struggling  to pick myself up and move on without some help. I have never been one to shy away from asking for assistance. I wholeheartedly believe that some of the greatest gifts come from asking for help and I have personally experienced this on more than one occasion. This blog entry is my love story with a woman that has helped me in so many ways since 2008 I cannot begin to express my gratitude.

After my attack in Kenya, I was a wreck. Relationships were strained, my fiance could not fathom my need to protect him from complete strangers on the street. I was on constant alert and ready to fight any and every perceived threat. I was a ball of laughs.

Anyone that has suffered a trauma knows that insomnia helps nothing. I struggled to relax enough to sleep and that exacerbated matters to the point that I knew I needed help to get myself back on track. Enter the amazing Dr L.

With her expert acupuncture and assistance my body and my mind were able to come to terms with the attack and the resulting symptoms. I was able to sleep. I was able to eat. My fiance could stand me once again. I am indebted to her. (She also referred me to another wonderful woman that helped me with some EMDR therapy for my PTSD. Also awesome and highly recommended despite the fact that this portion of my healing was really hard and painful work.) I know many of you may shudder or simply dismiss the idea of acupuncture, but if you are open to the idea, I highly recommend it.

Dr L has been with me since, through pregnancies and miscarriages, watching out for me and guiding me when I ask for help. I have so much trust in her.

It was natural then, that I would discuss my sweet Ukrainian boy's health with her. She did her research and she recommended that I give Evan a massage every night. Lucky boy, right? Lucky both of us. Dr L  introduced me to Qijong Massage. This program teaches parents Qijong massage to assist them and their autistic children but she has seen this benefit a wide range of children. It is certainly aiding Evan and I in the bonding process and it is a wonderful addition to our bedtime routine. She is currently investigating the benefits of this treatment on children with Down Syndrome and Cerebral Palsy.

I have found that Evan is far more relaxed and affectionate already. I don't like simply identifying issues, I like to be part of the solution. That in and of itself is a blessing! If you have a adopted or have a child with special needs, this could be a very valuable and lasting tool in bonding and assisting your child(ren). There are trained therapists in many states and a list can be found here.

Adoptive mamas out there: look into it! http://www.qsti.org/QST_mission.html

The blessing of fences.

I live in an old house. In a wonderful old neighborhood. A stone's throw from our church. It is so idyllic.

A few weekends ago my sister came to pick me up, I was getting out of the house. Freedom! Yippee! As I got in her car, I saw a woman climb out the window of my neighbor's house and walk onto my property. I did not recognize her, so I watched her. This was not the first time our lovely neighbors have used our backyard as  their personal shortcut to where ever. I did not want to allow that practice to continue.

As I watched an older gentleman began to heft himself out the window as well. At that point I unrolled the window and kindly informed the woman that she was on my property and I would appreciate her vacating my property. Yes, of course I sounded that put together and proper. My sister and I continued to sit there as geriatric man struggled to get out the window. He hit the ground with a thud and had a hard time straightening up. What possessed him in the first place? As we continued to watch, I pasted my "oh, bad choice" look on my face and continued to watch. The woman laughed nervously and said "we were just trying to be sneaky." The man was still attempting to stand upright. "Yea. Great," was my response.

We watched them until they exited the front of our property and made it to the sidewalk and finally crossed the street.

As my sister and I continued on our merry way, I called my husband to let him know what had just happened. (And to toot my own horn a little bit. . .I handled that like a star!) Needless to say he was less than impressed with out illustrious neighbor.

A few mornings later, I awoke to screaming outside. Wonderful trespassing lady was in my yard again . .. but she was being kindly escorted out front by our local police. As I watched out my window, a DIFFERENT man popped his head out that very same window to follow her and was immediately apprehended by the police. (what the heck! Are both doors in that house broken?)

I know I am biased, but that man looked evil. Yuck. Gave me goosebumps. Bad news. There were numerous police cars around my house for over an hour that morning. It was not looking good for my house, but the boys LOVED it. Oh they were waving at all the policemen and the policemen waved back.

The policemen however, did not have the courtesy of telling this obviously interested homeowner WHAT our neighbor was doing on my property. . .or what the heck was going on. I watched them for the entire hour, isn't that code for "Hey officer, care to fill me in?"

That's okay. I have it all figured out. It must be crack. Or meth. Right? That crap is everywhere and it could be the motivating factor that had Grandpa Moses thinking he could climb out a window unscathed the other day.

My dear hubby visited our neighbor recently to get the scoop and to let her know that next time someone is on our property we will be calling the police. Turns out that our REAL neighbor moved out of the house when her mentally ill son brought some friends he met on the street home with him. She did not want to live with her son and his new homeless friends so she went and rented an apartment a few miles away, leaving the house next door occupied by her mentally ill son and his formerly homeless peeps. THAT is who I saw climb out the window. Awesome. There is a flop house right next door to me. . .a flop house whose only apparent means of exiting is by the window that borders my property. Wonderful.

As I was cleaning the kitchen today I saw that Ms Crack-Jailbird was back. Uh, I mean my lovely neighbor was home, and in the back yard. What was she doing? Whatever it is. . .it looked strange. I grabbed a chair to better see out my window and over our fence. I discovered it was easier to perch on my countertop, so I did just that. Eli walked in on me and said, "um, not safe, mama. not safe."

He was right, I got down. Booo hiss.

As I was making the boys lunch, I could see her head out in the back yard again. What is she doing? It looked like she was washing her clothing in a very large brick oven. Yes. .. like I said, strange. Once the boys were sitting and eating, I could not resist. . .I grabbed the chair again and climbed up on the countertop to see if I could figure it out. Nope. I gave it my best shot and am lucky she didn't see me pressed up against the kitchen window in my robe....

I start to get down. Oh wait. . .flames? Did I just see flames?

When I took Eli upstairs for nap time and I made the fantastic discovery that I had a wonderful bird's eye view of my neighbor's back yard from the window on the landing. Score. There was a fire. In an outdoor brick stove of sorts. What was she burning? SO strange. .. clothing? Is that turpentine next to her? What is going on? How can I justify the length of time that I have been watching this? Why can't I figure it out? Why am I not more embarrassed by my watching?

At this point I am tempted to go outside and be neighborly. Perhaps I should pull a Wilson and peak over the fence. "Hidey ho neighbor. I see you are out of jail. Whatcha burning?" I resist. I am glad the fence is there, even when it gets in my way.

Hubby gets home from his work trip today. The laundry is not folded and put away....dare I explain? Welcome home, hun. I am sorry the laundry is still sitting there. . .I was busy minding someone else's business and maybe losing my mind in the process. *uneasy chuckle*

Give that Mama a hug!

I will admit. I did NOT get it. Please do not stone me for this admission. I did NOT understand why stay at home Moms were so different from me. I did not understand why I heard so many complaints from them. I was jealous of them, I thought NOTHING could be greater than spending all day every day with my beloved  children. What could be greater??

And then I quit my job to join their ranks.

It took two years and the addition of another child to make me understand. Stay at home Mamas. . .please accept my heartfelt apology. You work SO very hard, for no pay, no accolades, no vacations, no perks and little empathy from the world.

Now, I know I cannot speak for every stay at home Mom, as every family is different, but I find it safe to assume that the majority of SAHMs work very long hours. Coffee breaks are not a given, and IF you get one, they are not the relaxing, enjoyable events that they once were. Lunch break? Scarfing down pb&j with your kids, trying to maintain some semblance of order at the table and reduce the noise level a few decibels is not really a break at all. Quitting time? Don't even get me started with that. I miss quitting time immensely.

When I worked, I took my paycheck for granted. As nice as it was to receive awards and promotions, I felt I had worked my tail off and earned them, thus also taking them for granted. Now, I know that I will not receive any pat on the back, raise or positive recognition for putting Eli in time out for the 15th time for climbing up the window sill. He does not care that I am merely trying to keep him safe, or that I spent my entire day trying to keep him from harm, and that doing this while also doing laundry is quite incredible. Nope, he is not going to thank me, far from it.

My dear husband works very hard to support his family and to allow me to remain home to raise our family. As much as I try to explain it to him, he is where I was before I left my job, he is on the outside looking in. . how can I complain about how grueling my days are? This is what I wanted! What I fought for!

So, the next time you see a SAHM at your grocery store, at the park, at church. . .give her a MASSIVE high five!

Why?

Because even though it took me a while to pull my head out, I GET IT!

Because odds are she has not gotten a pat on the back in a while.

Because her job pays very little, has no paid time off and the uniform SUCKS. Odds are she is working harder than she ever did for a paycheck.

Because she is not perfect but she tries so very hard to do her best for her children every single moment. Her job pushes her buttons unceasingly and attacks her self confidence more often than she will care to admit. Mistakes are just part of the territory, they do not make her a bad mom, they make her human.

Because even though she may think about quitting her job every single day, odds are, she won't. She loves her job far too much to actually quit. Odds are she takes this job far more seriously than any other job she has ever held.

Because maybe she learned the hard way, that staying home with your children every day is not easy or simply filled with cuddles and giggles.

Because diapers do not change themselves.

Because her daily soundtrack would make you shudder. (One can only listen to Sesame Street, Caillou, Thomas the Tank Engine, Wild Kratts, Word Girl or any other show and theme song for so long before wanting to stick your head in the oven.)

Because her child may be the teen driving behind you when you are out for a Sunday drive.  If they gun their engine to pass you and your 80 year old self, they likely have more unique ways of handling their frustration other than flipping the bird. (Eli is already mimicking some of my road rage antics. It is pretty entertaining and so very PG.)

Because taking her tantruming and annoying children to your grocery store may be the only outing she has had in a week.

Because everyone needs a pick me up every once in a while. Winning at Words with Friends only goes so far. . .A DQ Blizzard goes a little further as a boost but still. . .As a society we are not good at looking out for others anymore. I personally think that should change. Community. A smile and a pat on the back goes a LONG way and it is simple enough to do.

Because I am the MOM and I said so!

Oh the slippery slope

I often have the best of intentions. With our house hunkered down fighting yet another bug, I have had little energy to do much but ponder things, including these good intentions of mine. I started 2013 with a plan. A solid, family focused plan. It was going to work! How could it not? My goals were clear and attainable, the result an obvious improvement. 2013 was going to rock.

Well, it seems that 2013 has had plans of its own for me, and my little clan. We have been hit by one illness of a kind followed by its cousin and nephew and so on. I have already, repeatedly admitted that I am the worst pregnant woman on the planet. If I am pregnant, that is all I can do. . .I have no energy for anything else. I used to berate myself for this which only made me even more miserable. I need to work at not excelling at everything, or expecting excellence of myself. (I know that sounds really pompous but it really much sadder than that. I am struggling with my identity since leaving the professional world.)

I didn't not realize that at some point I began to judge myself based on my accomplishments. This was easy when I had a successful career.When I left that career to be a Mama, this became a tad more difficult. I found it difficult to pat myself on the back after a long day unless I had mowed the lawn, mopped the floor, taken Eli to the park, organized a closet, completed a load of laundry and made dinner. .. all the while maintaining a sunny disposition. hahahah. For real. For a while there, my house sparkled and I was miserable.

In reality, if I had succeeded in doing all that I thought that I should complete in a day, by 4:30 I was a troll. I had no patience, no humor, no smile. It was not worth it. I scaled back a little bit. Being pregnant and ill whilst transitioning Evan, I cut back some more. This did not sit well with me. Was I really okay with simply keeping myself and my kids alive? Hip Hip Hooray! Another day and we are all in one piece. .. No. This does not feel like success.

madness. my days are pure madness.

With 2013 I decided I needed to amend my idea of success and be a little more gentle with myself. I am very sick with this pregnancy and I am exhausted with the transition of having two toddlers to wrangle all day long. (I know! Excuses, excuses!)  Pushing myself to get loads done around the house was depleting my little store of energy and again reducing the humor and patience I had for my kids and my spouse. I resolved to focus on maintaining my sanity and patience with my kids and my spouse..  .if the laundry sat for a while, and the floors were not sparkling the world would not end. It would not relegate me to the halls of inadequate mothers. (This is what I told myself when I made this resolution. I hope it is true.)

Oh yes. ..see the bags under those weary eyes? Mama is tired!

For the most part this has worked. I have much more patience with my children despite my continued exhaustion. However, this relaxation of my daily duties has extended to my personal appearance; a side effect I did not realize would present so quickly and so obviously
It is a matter of fact that I make here. I am not shocked or embarrassed about recent events. Perhaps I should be but I cannot  be bothered.

Once upon a time I used to get dressed every day. Now, I can spend the week in modified pjs. Once upon a time, I would never leave the house without at least a touch of makeup on. NEVER. This used to grate on my dear hubby's nerves. Well, no longer.

Friday night, the dinner hour was upon me. . .Hubby could not be fussed with telling me what he wanted for dinner. I needed to grocery shop but did not feel up to it. I decided to go and get something. It needed to be gotten quickly so I went as I was. No makeup. Hair.. .shocking. Outfit, equally shocking. I was in pj pants, my father's XL Steelers pullover jacket and my bright red TOMS.

Photographic proof.. . out of the house. Steelers jacket. . .sans makeup.

I called my sister giggling all the way to the restaurant. I could not believe I was out in public looking such a wreck. I obviously got over it.. . .even though I did not leave the house today after church, I cannot explain this lovely get-up. Hubby had to good sense not to remark upon it, but perhaps he should have?

I know the angle is quite flattering. My husband is a lucky man.  :)

Will there be a time when I will have the energy to care about moments like that? Will pride in my appearance return? Lucky for me, my kids do not seem to mind at this moment, but I am sure if this carries on until they are school age, I will hear about it. Surely by that time my energy and pride will have returned. Or have I fallen down that slippery slope, never to return? Can it get worse than this?

what? gasp!

A new post? Yes, your eyes are not deceiving you. It is true that I have been spending the majority of my time making lemonade these days. That keeps me very busy.

I am not naive. I did not think that this adoption would be smooth sailing. I was prepared for a bumpy road. I really thought I was. To be honest it has not been too bumpy, more just a MAJOR adjustment. I really did not realize that adding one more person would create a whirlwind of laundry and noise, messes and work. So. Much. Work.

That sounds like complaining, but as stay at home moms know...sometimes just speaking the facts about our day sounds like complaining. With good reason. It can be a thankless, difficult job. That being said, it is definitely a job I signed up for 100% when I quit my career. I knew.  Um, kind of. What I did not know was how getting pregnant again would be the ultimate monkey wrench in my day.

I vacuumed today. I want a gold star. All you mamas....if you vacuumed today, I am giving you a gold star. It should not matter that when I was done with the sofa and the rug, I continued onto the linoleum in the kitchen, and the tiles in the bathroom. At this point, I am just pleased the floor is cleanish. To be honest, I kind of want two gold stars for this stroke of genius.

I am slowly letting go and realizing that being a mom means more than cleaning floors and showers. It is more than making dinners and lunches. Granted, it is nicer to spend your days and nights in a clean and tidy house, but will I even notice those things if I have completely lost my mind? Not likely.

I still miss this girl. The happy go lucky, footloose, fun-seeking girl....really, I miss the days when my hair did not look like a helmet. . . .but I refuse to give up on this lady: She is working harder than ever and still finding joy where she can.

See? Helmet hair. . .always!

Moms, I hereby give you permission to sit down, relax and pat yourself on the back. . .simply for making it through the morning! Revel in your helmet hair, your kids do not care.