The itsy bitsy wish

--- 1 ---

If I had one wish it would be for prayers to work like alcohol.
Perhaps you anticipate a nice cold one at the end of a long day. Start murmuring your first prayer and the warmth spreads. One or two prayers under your belt and you re instantly more confident. Your cares are far behind. Your dancing skills are now off the charts. You smile a little easier. Your spouse/boyfriend/significant other is already more charming and palatable. Pow. Just like that. Your decisions are infinitely smarter and easier to make. The power of prayer. I would totally be a prayer-a-holic.

--- 2 ---

Yes, I totally see the epic flaws in the wish above. If I had one wish I would clarify that it would work like alcohol when alcohol works. Not when it bloats your belly to a painful level. Not when it fuels your anger and gives you gas. You know. . .fun alcohol. Not messy alcohol.

Oh, more flaws. It's a silly wish, I guess. Prayer works. I swear by it. ...most of the time. Sadly, God tends to do what is best for me instead of what I want. Hard to believe, eh?

--- 3 ---

I am praying desperately that our house sells. Magically. Without me having to uproot my kids; upset our schedule and morph into a screaming banshee ever again. Selling a house with 3 littles at home is no joke. To my chitlins, it means empty that bottle of hand soap on your brother's head while he is sitting on the toilet. . . .

--- 4 ---

Over our night prayers, Eli pointed to the ceiling and whimpered. "Mom, please let that fly outside. Now. Please Mom!' He was squirming and I was struggling to bite my tongue and stop my eyes from rolling. The kid would love to have a T-rex as a pet but he is afraid of flies. Mmhm. Just the idea of a fly on our ceiling completely derails Eli. He cannot look away, lest the fly move. Terrifying.

I stood up and saw that it was carnage. The beautiful remnants of a misguided spider that once tried to cross my living room ceiling. Standing as a warning to all other spiders that might make the same mistake.
And yet, Eli could not tear his eyes away from the ceiling. Convinced that it was still a fly.

We got through our prayers but barely. . .

--- 5 ---

Speaking of Eli. We went to his first recital for Pre-school today. Oh, MYLANTA. The cuteness was unbearable. Singing and sign language. Baby unicorns are not as cute as kids singing and signing. Seriously.
Evan was beside himself wanting to get up on stage and perform for us all as well. This is good since half way through his performance Eli decided that singing and dancing needed to take a back seat to finding his pants pockets and sticking his hands into those newly discovered pockets and staring blankly into the crowd.

Regardless, it was still the cutest think I think I have ever seen.

--- 6 ---

I cannot find that spider.
The carnage is gone.
It is gone.
How is that possible?
I cant find it.

--- 7 ---

Um. . .need to go and toss back a few prayers. Drown my spider related fears in a nice tall glass of prayer and hit the sack.

Bottoms up!

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

It's Ombre, Hombre!

Ombre. All the rage. When my hair looked like this, I either shrugged and went on my merry way or I scheduled an appointment to fix it. Granted, the color fade happened a little higher on my head for a while, but the concept was the same. Now people are paying to have their hair look like this. The Kardashians are championing it..  so it must be. . .uh. . .good?

Photo credit: adrants via Visualhunt.com / CC BY-NC-SA

I am a do it yourself kind of person. My husband is a pay anyone else to do it kind of person. I am starting to see value in my husband's eagerness to avoid DIY at all cost.

When I bought this house I loved it. It was chock full of opportunities. I could really make it my own. I loved the projects! I painted and tore down walls. I laid new flooring and added my own touches. I really felt pride in my house.

Then I had Eli.

Projects became a little more frustrating. I started many, many projects and finished a few of them. If I let things slide, I was still able to make an impact and tackle a project or two.

Now we are looking to sell this lovely house and as I look around I am surrounded by all the half finished projects that I thought I could tackle after I had Eli. With the addition of 2 more boys. . .well tackling laundry is project enough. The definition of "home improvement" changed to keeping the boys from tearing the house apart.

With three kids. . .projects are a lesson in frustration. For all involved.

I decided to go for it anyways. One project I had started when Eli was small enough to be content in his jumparoo outside was the fence. It wasn't that I ran out of time or steam. . .I ran out of stain. The death knell for any project. . .running out of something. I can keep staining but I CANNOT make another run to home depot and THEN finish. Somehow that extra step derails me.

And so for 2 years our fence looked like this:

Clearly that would be noticeable to prospective home buyers. I must finally correct this.

So I loaded up my feral boys and took them to the DEPOT. And I bought stain. Surely I looked to make sure that it would match the already existing stain. Surely. . .but I DID have the boys with me.

And it was not a perfect match but since I was going to clean the whole back fence it should be fine.

So I scrub and scrub that old fence. Every free moment I am out there scrubbing and finally the rain lets up enough for me to stain the fence.

One epic day of paint-the-fence. Perhaps my arms would once again regain the thin Ralph Macchio-esqueness of my youth.

Here is how it went:

One child at school. ..one napping...one running like a Tasmanian devil outside ...ready, set and stain stain stain!

I get half done. My arms feel like over-cooked spagetti. The portion I have done looks uniformly dark. SCORE!

Stop to get child from school.. .arrange lunch and nap time. Whack a mole.

I earn about 20 minutes to continue staining and I stain in hyper speed. With my spagetti arms.

The boys wake up but Pookie is still sleeping. I cannot be in two places at once and if I let the boys outside, they would likely pretend they are birds...bathing in the open stain can. I force them to be inside until Pookie gets up. Funny story, the boys were SO happy about this that Pookie was woken up by their squeals of delight in under 2 minutes.

Herd the boys outside. Mama commences with staining. ..there is just a little bit left. Pookie is in her left arm. . .staining pad in her right.

Stain.

Stain.

Stain.

AND DONE!


I clean up and let the boys terrorize the back yard and themselves.

I watch Eli pee on. the. fence.

And then I see it.

The stain.

Does.

Not.

Match.

In fact it appears orange.

red to brownish to orange. All in a day's work.

Orange?

Who stains a fence orange? Hmm....mamas that cannot pick out the right color because their crazy children make it hard to think at Home Depot.

Is it any better than the before picture?

I should have shaken the can of stain after each break. It appears the stain settled quickly....DOH.

Hello prospective home buyer! Look at this wonderfully fashionable fence! It's ombre hombre. Sadly, no stain job would hide our neighbor's awesome window paint statement.

This house is gonna sell itself.

Because it's gonna have to.

Sitting and Typing

--- 1 ---

I am back! I have been horribly remiss in posting my Quick Takes. I just plopped my butt down on the couch and here I will sit until I can click post. Eli informed me that I look weird. Awesome. Sadly, my mind is a bit blank. I fear that sitting and typing is harder than it sounded when I committed myself to this endeavor. Sitting down is a silent notice for the boys to start hitting each other, growling and screeching, needing a snack, jumping off the couch or other craziness. But I have committed myself! Kids....do your worst.
Just kidding.
Please don't!

--- 2 ---

I have spent the past month packing and culling and fretting and packing. We are attempting to sell our house. Why would we ever attempt this with 3 kiddos under 5? Because we are bat poop crazy. My husband travels a TON so really. . .this mama is wrangling her wild animal children, packing and fixing her little heart out. So, yes Eli. . .I do look weird. .. with good reason!

--- 3 ---

Pookie Pants is pulling himself up on everything. The coffee table. The couch. His crib railing. Sometimes on his brothers. He cannot stand enough but with all that practice he hasn't yet mastered getting back down. So, 3 million times a day he pulls himself up on something and two minutes later comes the ear splitting scream of a child being tortured. Simply because he cannot get down. Uh Oh. He is looking at me with THE LOOK whilst in the jumparoo. This will likely mean a full blow out. Call the authorities. Mama said she is not getting up until she pushes publish. Who knew that could be so difficult.

Ahhhh....pooooopppp!

--- 4 ---

Eli just ran by saying "Um, Mom. I smell something. What do I smell?" Shall I send him hunting for the source?

--- 5 ---

Back in January I was on a wee roadtrip with Evan and I was searching for a cd to entertain both of us. I was DONE with the Veggie Tales cd that had been on repeat in my car for far too long. Evan chimed in when he saw the dark blue case of Italian music. Random. We laughed for the remainder of our trip and this became a fast favorite. This got me thinking what other of my faves will work with the kids. I got some more Dean Martin, a little Buddy Holly, Adele. They like them all and listening to them sing these songs makes my day but I quickly tired of all of them. So...the other night when the natives were restless and Mama was fighting the urge for wine. . .I popped in a little John Denver. The boys LOVED it but thought it needed a little more shovel and a little less pants.

--- 6 ---

I am in the trenches of parenting. Packing. Raising. Keeping  my sanity. I am rarely able to get online to keep up with the awesome people I have met there. Phone calls are a luxury. Getting a blog written and published. .. even if it is gibberish is an AWESOME accomplishment.

My new digs. .. so open and airy!

--- 7 ---

Diaper duty is calling my name. Eli found the source.  It was as I feared. A full body effort. Saint JP2 pray for me and my family!

Photo credit: Lawrence OP via Visualhunt.com / CC BY-NC-ND

Happy Friday everyone!

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

Try. Try. Oh, so trying.

"A sacrifice to be real must cost, must hurt, must empty ourselves. The fruit of silence is prayer, the fruit of prayer is faith, the fruit of faith is love, the fruit of love is service, the fruit of service is peace."-Mother Teresa

I hurt. Each day seems to be a lesson in frustration, failure, exhaustion and tedium. There is no silence. No peace. No time. No sleep. I dread mornings. I dread endless nights. I dread.

There is Literally. No. Quiet.

I know this blog sometimes serves as a journal of sorts and this will certainly be true today. I am not espousing life changes for anyone but me. This is where I am. ME.

I am currently taking a class based on The Connected Child by Karyn Purvis. I have read the book several times but this class is actually making it resonate with me. The resonance is both enlightening and painful but I am hopeful that it will bear great fruit. 

In class tonight I got personal when I piped up with the eloquent "I have read the book. I have read MANY books. I know what I should do. What I should say. How I should connect. I know. But I am SO tired. I literally do not get a break and with my husband traveling, exhausted doesn't come close to describing my current state. So, I know and yet often times, I just cannot seem to get it together. To do what I KNOW I should be doing. I am just so tired."

Really, what I said was "WAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Oy. I am hanging my head. Nothing makes me prouder than a good old "woe is me" statement. ..especially said to a room of strangers. Awesome.

The responses of my classmates were awesomely supportive and informative but when I got into the car after class I kicked my own butt. 

Of course I am exhausted. I am a mother. No one becomes a mother to get more rest. To have quiet time. For breaks or relaxation. To look and feel put together. To have their needs met. Oh, wait. .. some people might have kids to meet their own needs but that is a different blog post....

So why do I spend my time lamenting the lack of all of the above? 

Daily life has been difficult recently. I find myself disillusioned. Jealous. Blech. Tired. Short. Irritable. . .and all around wonderful person to be around. My poor kids. 

I keep telling myself that I could be a much better mother if I could just get some sleep. If I had a break every now and then. If I could just hear myself think. If it just stopped raining. If I had a fenced yard. All of it...utter crap. Sure. . .EVERYONE could be a better ANYTHING under the perfect conditions. Sadly, life does not offer optimal circumstances. Pull up your big girl panties, Becki....You Are A MOTHER. You CHOSE this; your kids did not. 

Your job is not to make yourself more comfortable. Your job is to raise your kids. WHATEVER it takes. . .even if it takes EVERYTHING you have. . .THAT is what you do! I know you want to sit and play Candy Crush for a few minutes, but your kids need you again....so put down the game and get on with it!

“Do not think that love in order to be genuine has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired. Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.” ― Mother Teresa

I want to give my children what they need. To be the mother they deserve. To sacrifice and to love unconditionally. To lift them up. Repeatedly and without fail. And yet. . .I fall short. Time and again. 

Sadly, I am human. My frailty and selfishness get in the way on an hourly basis. I have needs. Surely they should be met! What about me? I spend all day meeting needs that are not my own. I often don't get breakfast before lunch. . . I want to scream. . .WHAT ABOUT ME!?! Our society supports selfishness as the norm. I feel justified. I ask myself "Why" far too often. I feel put out. This is normal, I think.... but I also think it is wrong. It is so counterproductive.

My children are children. It is their nature to be need machines. They make childish decisions. They break everything. There is always SO much noise. They make epic messes. They do not know why. Asking why is a lesson in frustration. There is no why. Why even ask? 

Yes. . .boots, socks AND jeans covered in mud. I looked away to put Pookie in the stroller. Just for a second! I was rewarded with mud. Squeals of delight and lots of mud.  

“God doesn't require us to succeed, he only requires that you try.” ― Mother Teresa

I am hereby removing "why" from my vocabulary. This is my first step to truly becoming the Mother that I want to be. The mother they deserve me to be.

Parenthood is hard. But is it also the most rewarding adventure. I resolve to shut down the voice in my head that demands selfishly. I devote myself once again to meeting the needs of my children with love and patience. I will try to enjoy myself more in the process. And I will pray for rest. I will also try not to pout when I don't get any.

Above all, I will try. 

I will breathe a little slower. 

Stress a little less. 

I will look my kids in the eye more often.

I will.

Try.

Nothing else is more important.

“God doesn't require us to succeed, he only requires that you try.” ― Mother Teresa

Slugs and Snails

About a month ago, my lovely sister in law sent me tights. For my son. I giggled at first remembering how novel it was to see Evan in tights when we would visit him at the orphanage. Granted, Evan would often sport tights in really boyish colors like pink and pastel purple. Despite this, when I got home, I had regrets that I had not purchased some tights while in Ukraine. 

Making quite the fashion statement!

The tights that my sister in law sent were adorable. Made by an Irish Company called Slugs and Snails, these tights are incredibly soft and cozy. Thick but not excessively so. The first time I put them on Pookie I knew they would be a staple in this wardrobe. He wore that pair two days in a row and I knew I needed to purchase more. 

These are much more practical than socks right now. Socks last an average of 23 minutes on Opie. He takes them off and chews on them, they land on the floor where ever we happen to be. Quite a hassle, to be honest. Now that I have these tights, it is less of a hassle. Anything that makes life even the slightest bit easier is a WIN! 

This first pair has seen loads of wear and washing. They are as cozy as ever and are standing up to all the crawling that Pookie is doing in them. with minor pilling.  If you are not opposed to boys in tights, I highly recommend these. They can be found at: http://www.parentsandco.co.uk/shop/slugs-snails-sky-blue.html

We're boys! We're boys in tights! 

Opie

I am a ball of emotion today. For the past three days I have been living in the past. Reliving the harrowing manner in which my baby came into this world. Reliving the lonely and awkward ambulance ride, being transferred to hospital that I did not know with doctors I had never met. The medications that blurred my vision and slurred my speech. The pressuring of doctors to do things their way without listening to me. Oh. .. I need to let go of that experience and focus on the result.

Today my tiny miracle is ONE YEAR OLD. I am celebrating but part of me wants to shut out the world, my husband and kids included. I want to crawl back into bed and spend my day with Opie. I want to rock him and snuggle him. I want to sob. One year ago today it was me and Opie against the world. Oh, how I prayed. Opie and I were fighting for his life like I had never fought before.


My husband was there. People were praying, I know. God was clearly there, though at the time I was beginning to despair and fear the outcome of my labors. There were doctors and nurses, however those medical professionals were not listening to me. It was up to me and Opie. (And God, of course.) Opie and I were in a scary, scary fight and we were alone.

This past year has been exhausting. Once one battle was won, another began. So many nights spent fervently praying for his safety and strength. So much life has been crammed into this year that I honestly do not think that I have had the chance to really process the trauma that preceded Opie's glorious arrival.

This is likely partially why I want to clutch him so close to me and just sob the day away.




I want to celebrate him and his warrior spirit. To shout to everyone that I know. . .this is NOT a normal birthday. This is a MIRACLE! To sob with gratitude for his presence in my life. Even when he wakes me up 4 times a night. I am so thankful. And here I sit. And sob.

One year ago today. I was too scared to cry. Too focused on the battle at hand. Too angry with the medical team that was not fighting with me....today, I am processing so many emotions and LOVE trumps them all. Let my tears cleanse the heart and fear from my heart.

So fitting this Lenten Season.

Out of my trauma came life.

Out of my fear, joy.

Out of my illness, a strong little baby.

Love really does conquer.

I am so incredibly blessed. It humbles me to my core.

Oh, baby boy, it is not enough to say Happy Birthday.

Happy Miracle Day to my amazing little guy. As terrifying as our battle was, I would do it again everyday...just for the pleasure of knowing you.

Oh Boy(s)!

Today my heart is both heavy and joyful. An update on the boys is overdue. I neglected to post Evan's Birthday photos. It could be that we were all too busy partying down with Goofy and gang. . It could be that life with 3 boys takes all that I have. It could be that I am tired of posting blogs only to discover that it is riddled with typos and grammatical errors. 

Enough excuses. Here is a quick update. 

Eli is getting far too old for my liking. He is obsessed with dinosaurs and airplanes. He know so much about the solar system and wildlife. He is a leader at school and is really a strong willed, intelligent boy.  He loves his brothers and is still learning to share and be a big brother. I am starting to believe this is a life long lesson....and Mama needs patience.

Evan's language is growing by leaps and bounds. He loves to talk and talk and talk. And sing. And most recently, beat box. He has no clue what beat boxing is but that does not stop him from busting it out all day long. He is one tiny bundle of joyful noise.
He is such a happy and affectionate boy. I think he tells me that he loves me at least 30 times a day. I revel in the fact that he has someone to say it to and someone that will answer back emphatically "Oh, and I love YOU!"

He shares so well and is so affectionate and gentle with Opie. He warms my heart! Our adjustment and bonding has had its ups and downs but I think we are making progress. Wonderful, hard earned progress.

 Eli and Evan were clearly meant to be brothers. Their bond is incredible.

Opie is a miracle that just keeps amazing me. He is growing and crawling, babbling nonstop. He is such a happy boy. He is starting to fit into the clothing that I had purchased for Pasha. Each outfit brings a pang of sadness for the boy I thought was to be mine. I am sure there is healing in that pain but I worry about him still. Is he happy? Did he find a loving home? Sweet Pasha, changed my life and my family and I am grateful for that, but still a little sad as well. 

Boys love and need their Mamas. All boys are Mamas boys. They thrive with the love and care that a Mama gives. It is not anything grandiose. They blossom under the loving gaze of a parent, the open and attentive ear encourages them to think and speak. The simple, constant presence of someone that loves them is immeasurable in the life of a child. They will want to emulate their Papa eventually...but their Mama....in those early years is so important!

I never thought I would be a Mother, but I am blown away by the transformation that my children have brought about in me. Their accomplishments are victories. Their pain is my pain. I honestly want so much for them to learn and grow in faith, confidence, maturity. The goal sometimes seems all consuming. They are my boys and I want so much for them. I see so much promise!

This is not a parenting blog. Sheesh. Everyday I feel like I make major mistakes. I am still learning but I apply myself daily and resolve myself to keep trying, even when I feel like a failure and want to give up. Giving up is not an option. My boys need their Mama, as imperfect as she is.

Which brings me to Brett. Brett breaks my heart. We pray for him every night and I beg God that a Mama sees the promise in him and rushes to his side. This boy; a world away is still waiting for his Mama. For Six long years he has waited. The wait does not appear to have dimmed his light. He is friendly and approachable. His formative years without a family have impacted his coping mechanisms. He needs a Mama to soothe his aching heart and allow his joy to grow. 

Brett is a stunning little boy with CP. An adoptive parent has seen him recently and reports His mind is keen and his spirit is evident in the pictures.

 "We saw Brett again today. He seems like such a neat kid. His groupa was out for a walk, they are all mobile but her was in a big stroller. He smiled and waved, the most outgoing of the bunch and probably the oldest."

This amazing little warrior is in a race against time. Most children his age are no longer in orphanages. They are transferred to adult mental institutions around age 6. If he is not mobile before that, he may be destined for a life in bed. Every moment of every day in a beg. Look at this boy. He is meant for SO MUCH MORE!

I pray daily that God sustains  him and that his Forever Mama rushes to his side. To demonstrate his importance. Boys NEED their Mamas! THIS boy needs a Mama!

Brett

Boy, born September 2007

Brett is a handsome young man who was born with CP.  He is very smart, he gets around on his own by crawling, but he is not able to walk.  Therapy will do wonders for him!   He deserves to have a family!

From a volunteer who knows him:   He plays with other children. He speaks with separate words. He understands the addressed speech. The boy is curious, likes classes. He loves when his nurse reads for him, he likes making pyramids.

Update December 2012:Brett is very smart and curious. He has some learning and language delays associated with institutional life, but he does speak in complete phrases around people he trusts. He enjoys cars, coloring, and games. He got very excited when we showed him pictures of dogs and other animals, so he might do well with pets.
A family considering adopting him should be prepared to deal with some institutional behaviors and traumas. This is the area where Brett might need the most assistance in understanding rules, family, and nurturing relationships.His physical disability limits his lower body, specifically his legs and feet, but he is very strong in the upper body and crawls very quickly.  He is a very active kid who needs some physical therapy, appropriate equipment, and perhaps braces to get where he needs to for walking. He is able to pull himself to standing. The orphanage has worked with him on potty training and he seems to be doing well with it.

More photos available, married couples only.

$7612.80 is available towards the cost of my adoption!