Meadow's Moods

Of course she is smiling in the pictures. I only post the happy ones! It lends to the illusion I like to portray that we are a nearly perfect family who has nothing but cheerful, wondrous, full of glee, rainbows in the bright blue sky, birds are chirping as we all sing along just like Snow White, kind of days. You weren't buying it, were you? You shouldn't. It's not true.

Illness lingers on and there is no shortage of whining, moaning and groaning on the (pale-skinned) children's part. My goodness. That will wear on the nerves in a hurry. The nerve fraying tends to make me overall less patient, and patience is something I absolutely need copious amounts of to make through the labor intensive day. Which brings me to Meadow's moods.

One thing that girl possesses extraordinary skill for is pouting. I've never seen anyone able to sour-puss pout quite like that over such a variety of offenses! She can easily swing in and out of good and bad moods, back and forth and to and fro again and again, all day long. It's really remarkable. Much of the time I am utterly clueless about the trigger. Her inability to express herself in a language I can comprehend leaves me in the dark feeling quite helpless. Although it doesn't appear she will be openly articulating her thoughts even when English comes naturally to her because as she sulks she pierces her lips so tightly it would be impossible to utter actual words.

As I mentioned before, I do see great improvement in this area as I hold firm. She is moving on far more quickly than she first did. I'd be thrilled to say I have my act so together that I am dealing with this in a completely consistent, awe inspiring, perfectly-well-adapted-new-adoptive-mom fashion which causes people to repeatedly ask me, "how do you do it?" clap their hands and nod their head saying "simply amazing!" But, I can't.

What I am beginning to run slightly low on is the endurance to face it so frequently without becoming terribly annoyed and letting that show. Because consistent irritation with her attitude is not going to help me bond with her. That's just the truth.

I might even, perhaps, fantasize about saying something like "Buck up sunshine. You think everything should go your way? There are 9 people living in this house girlfriend and not a single one of us gets everything we want every moment of every day. Life is not fair and it's about time you learned that lesson to save yourself a big old bunch of heartache down the line. Sorry princess but, the world does not revolve around you and your delicate sensitivities. I am the mom here with a ton of responsibility on my shoulders, and a lot of balls to juggle all at once so help a woman out a little bit, suck it up, do your part for the team and quit wearing the pathetic long face everytime someone so much as looks at you sideways, would ya?"

(I'm positive I should not have admitted that. Not good for my *image* Judge me, if you'd like. It may brighten your day to savor some moments of smug superiority. You're welcome!)

Loving the kids you gave birth to when they are showing undesirable behavior is one thing. You adored them from the beginning, when they were helpless, tiny little things looking up at you as you held them in your arms. By the time they willfully act out, you're already nice and bonded. Forming healthy attachment as a parent to an older child with the habit of holding a disposition you'd rather avoid all together takes a level of maturity that I must develop.

I once asked an adoptive mom if it was easier to care for adopted children because of the endless reservoirs of compassion you must surely hold for them. She said, no, it was harder. Oh, I see.

The thing is, this isn't about her at all. She's just a young girl who has had a very hard road and learned methods to cope. It's really about me. Me getting better at doing what is harder.
Me developing the ability to glorify God, reflecting His goodness, grace, and tender mercy. Me loving others, in the trenches, through the thick and thin, the way He loves me, even at my most undesirable, when my pout is big and sour.

So, I'm working on it. And praying that He would grant me a humble and teachable heart, an obedient spirit to His call to love this child the way He loves her. My daughter. My precious girl. A gift from God. A beloved little lady.


This is Big Love baby. The type the stretches. The kind that takes you to a new level of service, one that requires the laying aside of self. The type that allows me to prove God is doing a work in me, one I could never do on my own.


Grow me up Lord, I need to grow up. I am here, ready, willing. Mold me.