Our Impossible Adoption Story
If you're looking for the unbelievable account of how "impossible" became "done" in 5 business days, start here.
Part 2
Yesterday I took my formal parting from the imaginary young woman I’ve spent too long trying to become. I realized that, I think, there must be a thin line between inventing ourselves and discovering ourselves.
And I mentioned a couple of introspective walks.
On the first, I remember thinking at some point,
“I’m kind of melancholy.”
Not in that moment, just in general, and it was like a lightbulb turned on.
I am not that girl who lights up a room. I’m not the one that’s always bubbly, or the one everyone hopes will show up at a party. Not because I’ve failed. Not because I missed some imaginary mark, or because I’m not good enough to be her … I’m just not her.
I’m just not. (Especially if I’ve been alone most of the day. This extrovert needs to bounce off other people something fierce.)
And that’s okay.
Not that I’m always sullen and morose. A lot of people who know me might argue, because I like people and I like crowds – they make me happy. But in general, if you saw me the rest of the day, I’m kind of like that. Ask my husband.
The second walk was a little more striking. Read more…
A Formal Goodbye
I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching the past few weeks – sometimes intentionally, sometimes not – and this past Sunday evening I laid in bed, watching our miniature ceiling fan darken the ceiling over my feet, and realized – fully, completely, accepted and incorporated into every fiber of my being – that I am not the person I have spent three decades trying to emulate.
I am not the girl in the stories I read growing up. I am not any of the young women from my favorite movies. I am not the homemaker in the magazine or the mommy from that one blog or the wife from the sermons. I’m not the one on the cover or the Pin or the big screen. I’m not Jane or Julie or Jean.
And yes, I realize how sad it is that I finally had this revelation just months before my 30th birthday. I knew it, we all know it, but something happened, and it sank in deep, and I let her go.
But let’s be honest – there is this constant pressure to be her, whomever she is for you, which ever model or ideal you happen to like in this season of life.
The feminist poster-girl
The hippie chick
The hip young mama
The anti-religious Christian wife.
She’s awesome. Her hair and skin shine. Her kids are adorable, and dressed better than you, and well-behaved. Her husband loves her passionately, her house is beautiful and bright and always clean (except for the one basket of laundry, or a few toys on the floor – because she’s so fantastically authentic too), and her garden is always watered and weeded. She cooks well, she’s crafty, and her photographs are flawless. She just threw that outfit together and put a clip in her hair, but she looks amazing. Read more…
Down By The River
I called for a sabbath last Saturday. I needed it.
But by the time Husband helped a friend paint, and then we were late for a lunch meeting (that Meatball fussed all the way through), it was too late for an hour drive up to the lake beach we like.
So we hit up a forest preserve in the next town that we like too. There’s a great patch of grass, mostly in the sun but not without shade when you need it, that drops off pretty abruptly to a small, very clean, little river.
I got to lay around for an hour or so and read (remember books?!), while the boys went exploring down the river.
The Meatball is not very fond of cold water, but he did very well. Husband dipped his toes in for a while, then sat him on the shore, then butt-deep, then tummy-deep, then moobs-deep. He was splashing around and inspecting underwater plants before long.
(He was so into those slimy plants, he could hardly be bothered to smile at the camera, despite all my singing and snapping and splashing. “Whatever, mom – slimy rocks.”)
Oh, and he may or may not be a water-bender.
And then we hung out for a bit while Husband went to find water snakes.
Our little man gets so quiet and meditative when he’s outside (usually) that I always wonder what he’s thinking. It’s like he’s listening to something very gentle that I don’t hear. He’ll sit and watch the trees direct the wind, or he’ll concentrate on a puzzle (this time it was getting the plastic bags out of the dispenser), and be quietly content for some time – sighing occasionally like the story he’s listening to took a sad turn.
There were no snakes to be found on Saturday, sadly, but the boys did make a friend who invited them to help him look for minnows, and to compliment his swim shorts, and to go on a hike – the later of which they explained that his mom and dad probably wouldn’t approve of.
It wasn’t an all-day, but it was a nice late-afternoon. The mosquitos pushed us out as soon as the sun started to dip beneath the tree tops. I may have read more if I had been so distracted by these cheeks.
They’re just begging to be kissed. All the time. And I’m kind of a glutton when it comes to baby cheeks.
Vote and Win Free Stuff!
I wasn’t feeling super inspired when I (wrote the title of this blog post) put the header together for Spits and Wiggles – stock photo and a new font. I like the baby orangutang, and I think he turned out to be even more appropriate than I could have guessed, but … we can do better.
Thrice
If you haven’t seen the stick people comic strips, you can find them on the Comics page or on Instagram if you search for #SticksInStrips. (Apparently I’m frequently uninspired when titling things …) They’re fun. They’ve kind of become a thing.
(I’m hopefully finishing a fun project this month involving the sticks-in-strips. Shhhh!)
So I thought they’d make for a good header.
I wanted to do it right, though, so the Meatball and I stopped by Target for a brand new set of Sharpie pens (because I’m pretty sure mine got scooped in with Husband’s supplies, and I have no idea where they went). I did three, and now I can’t decide which to start with, sooooo …
Leave a vote in the comments for Header 1, 2 or 3, and when I close voting at the end of the week I’ll also randomly select a comment via digital dice for a $20 Target gift card.
In case you, too, need more Sharpie pens … or whatever you get from Target.
Let’s have a look at the contestants:
Header #1: Poo and Wiggle
This adventure was referenced recently in “The Truth About The Poop,” when I had to call for back-up on a massive dirty diaper … and a wiggly, grabby baby.
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Header #2: The Mandolin Slicer
That was the time I sliced the side of my finger off trying to make apple chips. It’s all here in “Baked Apples and Blood-Letting.”
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Header #3: Bath Time
This one is the short version of this comic strip.
So leave a comment here, and vote on which one should be the (first) new header! If you follow Spits & Wiggles on Facebook, you can vote there too if you prefer, but I’ll pick a random gift card winner from the blog comments on Friday evening. (Please note that whatever email address you submit with your comment is the email that the gift card will be sent to if you win.)
How To Give Children Hope
I get happy when our little Compassion magazine shows up in our mailbox. I can’t resist sitting down immediately and flipping it open.
The last one was based on the results of an independent study, conducted by Dr. Bruce Wydick, professor of economics and international studies at the University of San Francisco, and his team. They contacted Compassion, and other organizations that do child sponsorship, to ask if they could do this study to see – basically – if child sponsorship works.
Dr. Bruce Wydick … and a team of researchers spent two years in six developing countries where Compassion has offered its Child Sponsorship Program. In April, the prestigious Journal of Political Economy published their peer-reviewed research, which found “large and statistically significant impacts” of Compassion’s child development program.
The researchers found that adults who had been sponsored through Compassion as children were significantly better off than unsponsored children in the areas of education, employment and leadership.
The stories and statistics are amazing. You can read most of it here.
There was a smaller piece toward the end, though, that I just love: Read more…
Spits and Wiggles 