The Adventures of Adoption and Parenthood

I recently read the book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. And then I read the sequel Spark Joy. And then I bought the journal. And then ... I decided to start with the prescribed first category. As I read these books, I realized with a jolt that true happiness for me lies in organization and structure. And I had fallen away from what truly makes me happy. I have found very little joy in my life of late besides my children and even they are more trying than joyful at the moment. It's time to change my life and I believe whole-heartedly in Marie Kondo's methods. I think by purging and then storing properly, I will be well on my way to living joyfully.  Clothes:  I started with tops and piled them up on my floor. The mound was as tall as my 3 year old who last measured at 33". It was easily 4' across. I picked up the first article of clothing and said out loud, "Does this bring me joy?" The answer was a quick no and I...

Yesterday was Prima's birthday. She was excited about her presents and dinner out. It was announced at school during morning announcements. Yay! And then ... This morning she was off. She was saying mean things to her sister and wouldn't stop. She was very very distracted. She wouldn't help tidy up the family room. I had her sit with me in the dining room for breakfast instead of the kitchen so that I could talk to her. As we talked she melted. Big. I carried her kicking, punching, flailing self upstairs and got her blankets and wrapped her up. I held her and she screamed and shrieked and writhed. And it dawned on me. This is not only her birthday, but also the time when she was left abandoned as a newborn baby on the sidewalk in winter time. Her body remembers that. I can imagine nothing more terrifying than being an infant left alone on a sidewalk in the cold and nobody is coming when you cry from the cold and hunger and being alone. An infant has no ability to ...

Tonight as I sat on the couch watching Downton Abbey with Prima asleep in my lap and Segunda prat falling on the floor at her father's feet, I thought about my children's birth mothers. I thought, "They are missing this. They are missing these beautiful faces. They are missing the introspection of Prima. They are missing the hilarity of Segunda." But then I thought, are they? If Prima had never been abandoned, she would not be the same child she is today. I can say that with certainty. Every day she wonders who her birth mother is. Today she confirmed with us for the upteenth time that we would do a DNA swab when she turns 7. She is deeply hurt by other stories of abandonment. The movie Home was almost more than she could bear. Kung Fu Panda makes her weep. She sheds copious tears for her birth mother weekly. She worries over the feelings of others. She worries about fitting in. She laments the end of vacations before we have even begun the vacation. She loves her f...

[This blog post was inspired by a friend of mine who lives in hotter climates.] We hear a lot about the Mommy Wars. You know the woman who judges you for breast feeding. The woman who judges your for not breast feeding. The woman who judges you because you don't have your kid in a Mommy & Me Music Class at 2:00 p.m. on Wednesday when you are working and the toddler is at preschool. The woman who judges you for working. The woman who judges you for not working. The woman who judges you for not showing up to your kid's school to volunteer for the class party or not showing up for field day. And you don't hear anything about Daddy Wars. Daddies are not expected to take time off from work, they are not expected to show up at school for events, they are not expected to do doctor visits, they are not expected to talk with teachers about sensitive issues. Don't hear this as they don't. I'm merely listing the differences in expectations for mothers versus father...

Lately, my kids have been ... I don't know how to describe it ... let's go with ... challenging. Segunda has temper tantrums that are either super loud and long lasting or she makes no sound but throws everything in her reach attempting utter destruction. The no sound ones are a little freaky. Prima has been struggling with her emotions of late too. We aren't sure of the trigger, but she actually seems determined to let herself get out of control. You can see the cycle happening before your eyes and watch her head towards the cliff with purpose. I've read book after book and there are still more books to read. They all feel like homework assignments. And if you don't do your homework you are bound to fail. No pressure or anything. Most books agree that you are supposed to help your kids identify their emotion and label it for them and most of the time the kid is supposed to calm right down. I'm not sure if they have tried these techniques on actual children, b...

As you are growing up, you ask questions and you hear a lot of "you'll understand once you are a mother." Yeah, whatever. You hear "wait until it's your own kid." Uh huh. You hear "the love of a mother can move mountains." If you say so. We have a lot of solitary experiences in our lives even as others are going through a similar experience: living through cancer, battling with inner demons, divorce and it's aftermath, physical pain. But one thing I have learned is that motherhood isn't one of those experiences. There are days when I am in the thick of mothering my children that I'm suddenly struck by the generations upon generations of women who come from far and wide who have done exactly what I am doing at that moment. There were women in eastern Russia hundreds of years ago who fought with the children to get them clean. There were women in Africa who argued with their children over what they will put in their mouths. There were...

Tonight was Family Movie Night. We chose Home because Prima wanted to see it in the theater, but we never made it. So we watched in the comfort of our family room. Spoiler Alert - at the end when the girl finds her mom, Prima was a full on disaster. I admit, I didn't see that coming. "She found her Mom, and I don't know mine." My poor baby was hysterical crying because she doesn't know who her birth mom is. I know I write about birth moms a lot, but guess what, in my household, they're paramount. Without birth moms making the ultimate sacrifice, there would be no children. So, my great big 6-year old girl who is gorgeous beyond belief, who hates to be told she is cute or pretty, who scored a 100% on her math test, a 100% on letter sounds, and a 56% on her letter formation (just like this mama), who loves karate because it leads her to kung fu, who can't get enough of wonton soup, who adores chocolate, is crying the most heart-rending tears imaginable o...