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BYOB

     Why do babies wear clothes? Is it really just because us adults think that those little outfits are "sooo cute!", or is there really a purpose? Because I'm seriously considering taking all of Isaac's new clothes back in exchange for pairs of long socks and a baby Snuggy. This kid poops like it's what all the cool babies are doing and he's desperate to fit in... and as SOON as I change his diaper and get all the snaps done back up on the 45 layers he's required to wear, I hear the familiar gruntings of the second bowel movement begin. At that point, I'd be willing to buy stock in ugly Snuggies just to avoid the hassle of finding said snaps in the dead of night, working by the small glow of the baby monitor. Which brings me to my next point...
     The nurses lied. They should be punished. It's just not right to tell a brand new mother of an infant, "Oh, your baby sleeps through the night like a champ!" Two words, medical professionals of a hospital that shall remain nameless: You Suck. What they should've said? "Your child sleeps through the DAY like a champ... in fact, you'll probably think that he's in a coma, but at night, I'm sorry to tell you, he's going to be wide awake and ready to party." (All are welcome to join for tonight's party... Lord knows I'll be up. BYOB = Bring Your Own Bottle... or boob, depending on your feeding preferences). I brought up two bottles with me, figuring that we'd probably have two feedings in the night and then a couple of diaper changes. Well, I was sorely unprepared when Isaac wanted to eat FOUR times and then pooped continuously throughout the night. And it was also rather unfair that the little nugget refused to look alive at all during the day time, but then wanted to coo and explore and be all cutesy and fun at bedtime... those nurses told me to make nighttime feedings very businesslike... (suit and tie??) no monkeying around, no cooing, no baby-talk. Well, ya know what? That's just not fair, NOR is it possible! I couldn't refuse his cuteness at night anymore than I could wake the sack of logs up during the previous day!
     And so today, poor Cameron and Taylor have a very harried mother on their hands. I smell funny, look greasy, and the house is a disaster (because lets face it... when you drop something while you're holding a baby, it's just way easier to leave it on the floor than to try to pick it up!). So, for tonight, I will bring up FIVE bottles... four filled with Isaac's formula, and one HUGE one filled with espresso for Mommy. 

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Baby Isaac

     At the exact same time that Taylor was being adopted, baby Isaac was being brought into this world. It's almost poetic how things work out, isn't it? The beginning of two new lives all within the span of a few moments. The adoption went beautifully. Taylor was beyond excited to have everyone in one place specifically for her (the mommy side of me is having to remind the therapist side of me that this is NOT narcissism, but an average 4-year-old complex!). Cameron, however, was less than excited, rightfully speaking. The poor kiddo can't grasp the legal system any better than I can.... "When will it be my turn?", "Why does Taylor get to be adopted first?", "Why can't I be Cameron Costa?", "Does this mean that I'm going back to my old family?" How does a mother answer such questions? I don't truly have an answer for any of them. All I know is, that little boy deserves his moment. He NEEDS to have a day where everyone comes together for HIM... where he is the center of attention and where he gets to feel secure that he never has to leave our home, ever. (Well, until he's out of college, anyways.... THAT will be another conversation.)
     And then there's baby Isaac. It's amazing to have only 1 day to do the whole "nesting" thing. It's even more amazing to feel 100% connected to a child that you only just came to know about, whom you never met, and that may or may not be with you for more than a few months. Yet, here I am. The perfect picture of connectedness. Perhaps this week of adoption and babies being born has done something to my motherly nature, but estrogen is pouring out of me like a waterfall at this point. If I'm not crying over something, I'm checking on the kids as they sleep every few minutes... and the fact that I've turned into a hugging and kissing machine is another issue altogether!
     But, due to numerous legal and court issues (as well as ridiculous drama by all involved in this process), we were unable to see Isaac at the hospital until today. He was born addicted to opiates, so they are keeping him for observation. We were told to expect him home on Wednesday. And then Wednesday came and went, and we were told Thursday was the day. Thursday morning, after we paced the house 50 times, straightened the same towels on the racks for the millionth time, and even made whoopy to kill time (all 6 minutes of it), we received a phone call telling us that he wouldn't be home for 1-3 more days! UGH!!!! The anxiety of waiting was more than we could handle... so I promptly went back to work to distract my racing thoughts and aching heart. No one would give us information on if he was ok, and the hospital was treating us as if WE were the bad guys (because OBVIOUSLY the opiate-abuser in this entire situation is blameless...). Finally, this evening we were able to see him for the first time..... and he is beautiful! The nurses reported that his symptoms are much better and that he is one of the best babies they've had. I'm afraid that I monopolized most of the time with him (sorry, honey!) but we will get to go back tomorrow and spend some more time holding him.
     Things that I've learned in my short period mothering a newborn: 1) Swaddling is a lot harder than it looks. 2) Babies have even more gas than I do, and beating out a girl with IBS is pretty hard to do! 3) Circumcision is gross. 4) Babies smell like Heaven. 5) And I hate having an empty cradle next to my bed.... Hopefully, our new little fellow will be home Sunday.... and hopefully, all of our hearts will be protected as we enter this journey with new baby Isaac.

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Family Changes

     An early-morning post is rare for this Mama.... but since I woke up 5:15 am, contemplating life, love, and family, (and since this is the only time my house is still enough to think straight) I decided that I'd send my contemplations out into the internet's abyss.
     Today, we adopt my daughter. MY daughter. It still seems so scary to think that 7 months ago, it was just my husband and I, with our 3 dogs and crazy basement-cat, living our lives and thinking we probably wouldn't have children. And then seconds later, not just one, but TWO children arrived at our home. And it's taken all 7 months (and it will take at least another 7) to figure out how this works.... how to be a family, how to love a stranger fully and completely, how to resolve conflicts with people that are not yet rational and that are short enough to kick your shins. In these 7 months, I have waivered. I have doubted, friends. I've questioned my abilities as a mother, wondered if I was skipped over in God's great handout of maternal instincts, and pondered the permanency of adoption. All of this questioning, wonderment, and pondering has left me at this one place....
     I am happy. Sure, I'm frazzled, forgetful, disorganized, and usually very tired. But peace has settled in the midst of it all. HOPE has found its place in my heart. And love has found its place in my arms. Today, Taylor will become my forever love. Qualified as a mother or not, my fear is being trampled down because this girl is MINE. She's ours. And she's exactly what I need in my life. Her spunky, no-nonsense personality has a way of tip-toeing on my last nerve and breaking down the walls of my heart at the same time. At this very moment, I couldn't be happier.
     Which brings me to the next big change for our home. The next reason that I found myself lying wide awake in the dark of my room, thinking about where to go from here. At this present moment, Cameron and Taylor's mother is being induced to give birth to her fifth baby..... and our family will be the recipient of this precious new creature. There are many details that are still unknown. Paternity testing? If the father is found, will he want the baby? If he doesn't, will his family? Will baby boy's mother get him back just after I've attached to him? Will I attach to him? What if it's not a "him" and I just spent $500 buying things for a "him" after getting the news last night? What if I'm never the same again after meeting him? What if that's a good thing....?
     But, in the middle of my contemplations, I found myself sitting in the shoes of my children's mother. Her shoes have taken her on a difficult path through life. Yet, even through her trials and errors, I believe she loves her babies. And today, she gives me, another Mommy, her only daughter. For keeps, no take backs. The papers will be signed and her role will finally end. On the same day that she's forced to part with one child, she gives birth to another, only to pass that one on as well.
     Over the months, I have felt many things about this woman... but right now, sitting in her shoes, I feel a deep sadness for her loss. So, as we rejoice today in the expansion of our family, I also say a prayer for this Mommy that is grieving. May her memory fade enough to let me in, and may her heart be comforted by the fact that she will always be the first "Mommy" that my children ever loved.

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Fall Cleaning

     It was a phenomenal weekend. Plain and simple, it was the weekend that I needed to feel like me again. That is, as a woman and a person.... not a wife, not a mother, not an employee, not a taxi-driver. I re-found my soul, the core of who I am, and it felt amazing. With the fellowship of friends and an awesome church service, I was refreshed and rejuvenated. What's better yet? I found my kids to be much more tolerable (dare I say enjoyable??) in the midst of it! Now, it obviously helped that my mother-in-law had the kids for Friday evening and most of Saturday (three cheers for patient relatives, right?).... maybe we all needed some time apart. I sometimes forget that they may get just as sick of me as I sometimes feel of them! My husband always says, "How can I miss you if you never go away??" Maybe he's onto something. (Just don't tell him I said so.)
     I knew it was going to be a great day as soon as I woke up. This has nothing to do with my parental psychic powers and everything to do with the fact that when I came out of my room this morning, my children were cleaning their rooms. (I feel the need to pause for effect to let that set in for a moment....) THEY WERE CLEANING THEIR ROOMS!!! And I'm not just talking about making beds and shoving toys into their closets. Oh, no! When I cautiously peered into the first bedroom, I saw both kids sitting in the middle of the room, adorned in nightgowns (yes, my son wears an over-sized nightshirt to bed half the time... I can't seem to break him of this, but that's a post for another day), garbage can between them, and they were literally spring cleaning!...in the fall. Now, you have to understand, this is truly a big deal. I suffer from borderline OCD (self-diagnosed, yes, but I'm pretty sure there's merit to it... just ask my husband). And with this "mental illness" of mine, I have the tendency to, oh, freak out on occasion when the kids make confetti with their coloring pages and then leave said confetti all over the floor. Or when Cameron insists on keeping garbage in his room because NOTHING can be thrown away without a crying fit. Or when Legos get left in the patterns of the carpet, waiting to shove their grooved tops into unsuspecting tootsies.
     So when my kids smiled at me and said, "Good morning! We're cleaning our rooms and throwing away garbage!", you can imagine the sweet, sweet joy that coursed through my veins. It was like the spike of coffee mixed with the calmness of sleepy-time tea. Exhilaration meets Relief. Euphoria at its finest. But the best part wasn't even that they were cleaning.... but they were HELPING each other clean. There may or may not have been angels singing (I'm pretty sure I heard the opening chords of the Hallelujah chorus coming from under the bed....), but Lord knows I sure was! Well, right up until the part where Taylor decided that her room was clean and that Cameron was more than capable of cleaning his own room without her assistance... you know, since he did such a nice job on hers. I reminded her that it's rude to have someone help you and then not help them in return. So she said it's not that she didn't want to help, it's just that she realized she's still pretty tired. I enthusiastically suggested that a nap after church would be just the ticket for her drowsiness.... and then she decided that she really wasn't too tired to help him afterall. Good choice, little one, good choice.
     They may not be my blood, but I was all too aware when they picked up my bad habits (darn nail-biting and fear of those pesky spiders....). I should've known that the bad, as well as the good habits, can be passed on. Especially when those habits are as neurotic and obsessive as mine. If only this worked on husbands....

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Cry Till You Laugh

     So, I've decided two things. First of all, you mommies and ladies out there rock my face off. Seriously. My "monster day" left me feeling broken and weak.... and then the rallying of encouragement, prayers, and advice that you poured out onto this tired gal was exactly the healing balm that I needed. I once heard it said that if someone gives you their two cents, you should pay them back with a nickel because one should never forget interest or gratuity. Well, you ladies are all worth your weight in nickels and I love you to pieces. Whenever you need someone to be a lending ear, shoulder to drench, or phone to scream into, you just let me know and I'll be there in a heartbeat!
     The second thing that I decided was this.... The next time I need to take a time-out to cry, I'm not going to feel badly. Why, you may ask? Well, because everyone else in my house cries on a daily basis, that's why! This enlightenment hit me tonight somewhere around the third crying fit I was forced to endure, courtesy of the short people that live down the hall.
     "He won't let me pick my own grapes from the bag!!" WAAAAA!
     "But I don't KNOW how to do my homework!" WAAAA!!
     "I have to play by MYSELF?!?!" WAAAA!!!
     "I wanted spaghetti, not chili!" WAAAA!!!!
     "But I changed my underwear last week, I don't WANNA do it again!" WAAAAAA!!!!!!!
      But to think, I felt distressed for sobbin' a little when I had an all-out emotional crisis. Well, at least I was wearing clean underwear when it happened. But I think that tears are a sign of good parenting (bear with me on this one). Afterall, if someone's not crying, then no one's learning a lesson, right? And in this house, education is highly important, so I make sure that we all cry at least 3 times a day... in fact, you can plan your meals around our family's emotional break downs. Sometimes we even throw a 4th one in for good measure at bedtime.... it helps everyone sleep better when they just get the tantrum out of the way. And no, my husband doesn't "cry" per say, but I know him.... I can see it. He's just cryin' on the inside.
     Sometimes (I hate to admit it... scratch that, no I don't), a little part of me feels a teeny bit of satisfaction when they cry. I smile to myself as I say, Ahhh.... I'm not the only one miserable right now....! I guess it's just nice to know we're all equally frustrated, tired, and on the same level of basket-case-ness. In fact, I'm pretty sure the kids wouldn't even fit in with my side of the family if they didn't have any predisposition to tears.... (See? I CAN find something to bond with my children over!) Some people laugh until they cry.... but not this Mama. I plan to cry until I laugh. And I will be laughing soon. Promise. 
 

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